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This story has been contributed to the People's War by the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Learning Centre, Gloucester, on behalf of Clare Smith with her permission.

I was 13 when war broke out and I lived in what is now Mill Lane but was then known as Church Lane in Cranham, near Painswick.

At 18 one could be ‘called up’ but I volunteered to join the Observer Corps and trained to be a ‘plotter’ in the Ops Room of 24 Group which was based in the old Spread Eagle Hotel in Gloucester. We worked in conjunction with the RAF and there were personnel present who decided from our plotting when it was advisable to sound the warning sirens of a possible air raid. ‘Forewarned is forearmed’ was our logo.

A plotter’s work was of no use without a ‘spotter’ and these personnel worked outside across the county on a ‘post’, a position of safety and shelter with uni-directional lines to the Gloucester centre where we worked. During quiet periods we knitted and wrote letters. Once trained, those out on a post learned aircraft recognition and how to estimate aircraft heights. At night this was not at all an easy job unless it was clam, clear weather.

Many of our plotters were part-time, business menfolk, and they nearly all smoked. We descended down to our positions at the table through a suspended layer of varieties of stale tobacco smoke. Some of the men with excellent aircraft recognition went as a sea-borne contingent on ships taking part in the D-Day invasion to ensure ‘our’ gunners didn’t shoot at ‘our’ aircraft.

I was on a night watch and it was very exciting to see how the planes and gliders built up into hundreds, circling, like flying ants in summer, before heading off to the Continent. It was a time of high excitement and anticipation.

One of the best of our plotting times was enabling a crippled aircraft to get home or land, hopefully safely, when they were without radio contact. There were also interesting times when we realised an aircraft had been abandoned by its crew due to damage, set on a course by its captain, whereupon relived of its weight it flew on and on until it ran out of fuel. There was then a good chance that inland it would not crash into a suburban area, endangering civilian lives. We also plotted training aircraft flying north across the county then counting them ‘coming hom’ later in the day.

During my time serving with the Observer Corps we received our true recognition and were designated the ROYAL Observer Corps. Sometimes we were invited to go out to a ‘post’ to see how our job in the centre linked up with those out (mainly) in the countryside. I for one could not estimate a plane’s height!

When our ROC services were no longer required, there was a great ceremony in London and, I believe, North Weald. Three women observers from 24 Group were invited to attend with our Group Commandant and I was one of them. This was a bit of a nerve-wracking ‘on-you-best-behaviour’ event! It also gave me my first flight in an aircraft. We duly signed our ‘blood chit’ before take-off in a Dakota that had been a paratroop carrier. It was noisy, the seating far from comfortable, but excitingly it flew us over London. I was very happy until, chancing to look out of one of the ‘portholes’ along the wing of the aircraft I could see the rivets in the wing’s leading edge were all loose and jiggering and jumping about. After that I was very quiet until we landed.

The great thing that came out of our days serving in the Corps was the comradeship and friendship. For many, many years we met up annually, the latter years in the old Fleece Inn in Gloucester.

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