大象传媒

September 3rd 1939:

War is declared. Church bells are tolling, and we are shocked, for we all hoped it would not happen.
I was 14 years old, and although we saw and heard German bombers going over. They were heading for London, so few bombs landed round us.
Then came the Battle of Britain in 1940. We had dogfights overhead, night and day. Our little Spitfires and Hurricanes weaving and diving with the Hienkels and Messerchmitts in pursuit and trying to protect their bombers from being shot down.

March 30th 1944:

A letter from the War Office, I have to report to Maidstone for a medical. It was a bit of a shock, but I should have expected it. I passed my medical A.1. which was good, then had a construction of Meccano put in front of me. I was to take it apart and put it back together again 鈥� no problem 鈥� I finished in record time.

April 4th 1944:

I get my calling up papers and have to report to Queen鈥檚 Camp at Guildford for A.T.S. training. First stop was at the stores where an N.C.O. looked you over and decided what size uniform. We didn鈥檛 try anything on for size, I had 6陆 size shoes given to me, shirts, ties, collars, underwear, pyjamas, kit bag, bedding, gas masks, shoes and button cleaning kits, enamel mug and cutlery.
We were shown our barrack rooms; put all our gear away, made our beds up and most of us wept. We were already feeling very homesick. Life in the A.T.S. had really started.
Lights out at 10p.m. if you weren鈥檛 ready for bed, too bad, you had to fumble round in the dark. We were feeling low, when in came a girl from the next barrack room, creeping in by torchlight, she understood how we were feeling, she had been there a week and it wasn鈥檛 so bad really, she said.
Then she started to sing 鈥淏egin the Beguine鈥�, it was so beautiful and she had a lovely voice. She wished us goodnight, and crept away. Well that really started us off. I don鈥檛 think there was a dry eye in our room. I have always loved that song, and it brings tears to my eyes every time I hear it.
It seemed no time at all before Reville was sounded. In comes our Sergeant, all spit and polish and shining, putting on the lights, shouting, 鈥淭ime to get up鈥�, it was 6:30 a.m. We groaned and pulled the bed covers over our heads, only to have them yanked off again.
We had an awful lot to learn that day. After washing, we struggled into khaki bloomers (real passion killers), lisle stockings, struggled with our shirts, collar, stud and tie, skirt and jacket. Then we folded all our bedding, dead square with the pillow and piled it neatly at the head of the bed, kit was laid out at the foot of the bed for inspection. Our buttons had to be polished and our shoes, we were shown how to get a good shine by putting on the metal polish and then run a lighted match over it, great, we managed to do that without setting fire to the uniform. Next it was the shoes, put on the shoe polish, spit on it, and brush hard, sounds revolting but it worked.
Now we were ready for the parade ground and inspection by and officer and Sergeant. This we dreaded, for most of us got a telling off, because we weren鈥檛 鈥渃orrectly鈥� dressed and it was something trivial like a crooked tie. I could have wept when I was brawled at one day, 鈥淟ess polish on the lips, Private, and more on the shoes鈥�, I have never forgotten it, I wished the parade ground would swallow me up.
Then it was the drill, not funny when your feet are killing you, your collar is choking you and you have a large bruise on your throat from the collar stud.
You were marched up and down the parade ground until you got it right, 鈥淎ttention, at ease, by the left, quick march, about turn, right wheel, left wheel, right turn, left turn, halt, mark time鈥�, all orders fired at you and it was chaos at times, when some forgot their left from their right then we all fell over each other laughing. Again we were bawled at and made to do it again and again, until Drill Sergeant was satisfied.
This went on every morning for 5 weeks, always I was in trouble because my cap wasn鈥檛 straight, or my hair too long. Few of us kept our caps straight, for every time we saluted, we always managed to knock our caps until we got the hang of it.
Through all this, there was a wonderful feeling of comradeship and I found this through all my days in the forces, we all supported each other.
We had an awful storm one night. I had always found them scary and hid under the bedclothes. Jasmine suggested I climb in bed with her, she didn鈥檛 like storms either. We must have fallen asleep, because we were rudely awakened by the Duty Officer shining a torch in our faces and ripping the bed covers off, I can see the funny side of it now, the two of us lying there sleepy eyed, in our blue and white striped winceyette pyjamas, the picture of innocence; 鈥淕et back to your own bed, what on earth do you think you were doing?鈥� says she.
So I sheepishly crept back to my own bed. What a lot of fuss about nothing we thought. We were horrified next morning when the other girls, more worldly wise than us, explained to us about lesbians and gays. How na茂ve Jasmine and I were and how foolish and embarrassed we felt, not knowing such things, but we were learning fast.

Then it was Gas Drill, we were shown how to use our gas masks, which were different from the civilian ones. We were marched off to a large warehouse and told to put our gas masks on. I thought they smelt vile and wanted to rip it off. The doors were closed and I heard a hissing sound. I felt a real panic when I realised it was gas. We were told to remove our masks to get a whiff of what the gas smelt like and then with eyes streaming we put them on again. The doors opened and we couldn鈥檛 get out fast enough.
The Sergeant instructing us wasn鈥檛 wearing a mask at all and was dancing round thumping his chest and taking deep, deep breaths, his way of dealing with gas inhalation I suppose. He obviously couldn鈥檛 talk to us with his mask on. I often wondered how many times a day he had to do that.
We all survived our 5 weeks training and it was time for a posting. We scanned the list outside the barrack room hoping we weren鈥檛 going too far from home, and there it was, Private E. Head, 302540, posted to Nutfield Priory, Redhill for M.T. training. I was to be a Driver. I thought there must be some mistake here, I didn鈥檛 know an accelerator from a clutch and brake. My special 鈥渂uddy鈥� Jasmine was also posted there, which was nice, so I had someone I knew with me. We had a weekend pass and I went home to show off my uniform. Mum and Dad wouldn鈥檛 believe it when I told them I was going to train as a driver. The weekend passed so quickly and I had met up with Jasmine on Redhill Station where we were met and taken to the Priory.

Nutfield Priory:

What a beautiful place it was, with Large grounds and masses of rhododendrons, all in bloom, I loved it there.
We were taught all about engines, and how they worked, I really enjoyed the mechanical side of it. The basic daily checks, before taking a vehicle out we called 鈥淲OFLTB鈥�. Water, Oil, Fuel, Lights, Tyres and Battery. I鈥檓 afraid we didn鈥檛 stick to that routine once we had passed our tests, as long as there was fuel in the lorry.
Our first lessons in driving were in a truck on blocks so the wheels didn鈥檛 touch the ground. Changing gear by double-declutching, without grinding the gearbox. Listen to the engine, I was told and get the timing right, I think we all made a hash of that at first. We were told never to leave a vehicle parked without demobilising it by removing the rotor-arm, they were only small and I always wondered what I would do if I lost it, I never did luckily.

Doodlebug Alley;

It was while I was stationed here, that I saw my first 鈥淒oodlebug鈥�, Hitler鈥檚 secret weapon. The Priory overlooked a valley where Nutfield aerodrome was and this was their target. I heard what sounded like a plane in trouble and then an explosion. I sat at the window trying to see what was going on and saw this peculiar 鈥減lane鈥� with fire pouring out from the tail. The engine stopped and down it came and exploded. After seeing several, I woke the girls up and told them something scary was going on outside, but they told me to go back to bed and don鈥檛 be daft. I couldn鈥檛 tear myself away from the window and sat there most of the night, they were evil looking machines and I became quite frightened by them.

Next morning, we were gathered together and told about this new weapon and for several nights we took our bedding downstairs to sleep, but life goes on and we soon got used to seeing them and carried on as usual, holding your breath each time one came over and hoped it would keep on going. If the engine stopped we ran for cover, our brave pilots would intercept them over the Kent coast and try to get close enough to tip the wings and send them back over the seas. No wonder they called Kent 鈥淒oodlebug Alley鈥�.
We had a late night pass to go to a dance in Redhill and were really late getting back to the Priory, knowing we would be in trouble, one of the girls left a downstairs bathroom window open. With a lot of giggling we all climbed in, when suddenly the light was switched on and there stood the Duty Officer, 鈥渁nd what is the meaning of this?鈥� she said sternly, we all looked very sheepish, when she laughed, and told us the front door had been left open for us. What a relief, we wouldn鈥檛 be on a charge after all.
The Priory was said to be haunted by a Nun. Whether it was true or not I don鈥檛 know but we believed it.
One night I was on Fire Watch Duty, and the siren sounded, I had to go up to the top floor which were the Officers quarters and normally out of bounds to us. I had a torch with only a glimmer of light left and crept up the stairs in the dark when I became aware of an apparition coming towards me silently, I gave an unearthly scream waking everyone up thinking it was the ghost. I felt so foolish when the ghost turned out to be my own reflection in a mirror at the top of the stairs, I was ribbed something rotten about it but it really had given me an awful scare.

I thought when we left the training centre there would be no more 鈥渟quare bashing鈥�, I was wrong. We had a very long driveway from the main gates to the Priory and this was where we did our drill.
I remember one time we were marching towards the gate and never heard the command to about turn and on reaching the closed gates we all bumped into each other. Turning our heads to see what was going on, the rear of the platoon had heard the command and were smartly marching back, Drill Sergeant was standing, hands on hips and fuming, while we struggled to get in time again and march back trying hard to suppress our laughter. Extra drill was our punishment.

To be continued as FRIMLEY GREEN

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