大象传媒

THE ARMY POST OFFICE IN WW 2

The story of my time there from 1943 to 1946 by Dorothy Pope nee Pelmear

Although brought up in Middlesbrough, during the war I was working in Harrogate in the Accountant General鈥檚 Department whose offices had been evacuated from London to Harrogate because of the blitz, when I was called up into the ATS in November 1942. My basic training course was at Ripley Barracks, Lancaster. It is amazing how few people today know what ATS stood for, especially the Media, who should know better I am sorry to say. We have heard many funny and sometimes derogatory versions of what it was thought to be. In WW1 the Women鈥檚 Auxiliary Army Corps [WAAC] was formed from various other women鈥檚 voluntary organisations such as the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry, ambulance drivers and clerks. On the 3rd September 1938 the WAAC became known as the Auxiliary Territorial Service; women who served in many military capacities. After the war the name reverted to the original except it now added Royal, - Women鈥檚 Royal Army Corps [WRAC], a great honour. Sadly the Corps was a victim of the army re-organisation and was disbanded in 1993 and the women became part of the Army and joined the Regiments alongside the men. The WRAC motto was 鈥榮uaviter in modo; fortiter in re鈥�. 鈥淕entle in manner; resolute in deed鈥� An apt description I think. General Sir Robert Adam in his introduction to the book, 鈥楾he Women鈥檚 Army Corps鈥� written by Shelford Bidwell in 1977 said of the women. 鈥︹��. 鈥榌Their] vital work which helped us to victory in both world wars.鈥�

After a friend and I had volunteered for the Wrens and being told that because we had no next of kin in the Royal Navy we could only join as either cooks or stewardesses, and we wanted to be Teleprinter operators, we turned the Navy down. 2 weeks later on the 8th November, 1942 we both got our calling up papers for the ATS. Also enclosed were an RTO Travel Warrant and a postal order for 4 shillings, [20p] for expenses. I was required to present myself at Ripley Barracks, Lancaster, on Friday the 27th November. My friend was posted to Neville鈥檚 Cross in Durham and I never saw her again.

I still remember very clearly the day I left. My Aunt with whom I was then living, went with me to the Station, and was weeping as she waved me off. I guess she thought she would never see me again. Either that or she was weeping with pleasure, at the thought of not having to feed me any more.
More frightened girls joined the train in Leeds, and we soon became buddies in arms, comforting each other that maybe it would all be better than we expected. Most of us had never been away from home before, not like today鈥檚 young generation of globe trotters. The fear of the unknown was very much to the fore. Arrived in Lancaster, we were met by an ATS Corporal who marched us, complete with our worldly belongings in small attache cases, through the streets to the Barracks.

Ripley Barracks was a large, impressive, and stately stone built building set in extensive grounds, and pre war had been an orphanage. It was commandeered in the early months of the war by Western Command as an ATS Training Depot. On arrival we were herded into huts in the grounds, to be registered, given an Army No. and Pay Book, and I was to be known as W231334 Private Pelmear. D.
In another hut our heads and bodies were searched for lice and fleas and if found guilty, given a paraffin oil shampoo, and some other obnoxious stuff, and segregated from the rest. How humiliating for those found to be infected. Next we were marched to another hut and kitted out, with 1 khaki greatcoat, a hat, a pair of shoes, a jacket, a skirt, 3 khaki shirts, 3 loose collars, 3 vests, 2 coarse calico bras, 2 ditto corsets, 3 pairs of khaki Celanese bloomers, 2 pairs of blue and white striped pyjamas, 3 pairs of khaki lisle stockings, a tie, and to finish off the ensemble a waterproof groundsheet. Needless to say few of us received clothing that fitted properly and in the Dormitory later we fell about laughing at the sight we made wearing the bright pink bras, long vests, khaki bloomers and corsets. Fortunately we were all in the same boat, so no-one felt singled out for derision.

Later we were led into the main hall for supper, and then to our particular dormitory, and bunk beds.
The bedding consisted of 3 flock stuffed 鈥榖iscuits鈥� which put together formed the mattress, 2 coarse linen sheets, 2 khaki blankets and a hard pillow. Oh, what luxury. I cannot believe that when I went home on leave I could not sleep on my feather bed and slept on the floor. All the room lights went out on the dot of 10pm by an unseen hand [found out later it was the Corporal in charge of our dormitory in her cubicle by the door]. Many of us did not sleep and some were heard weeping into their pillows. The double bunks were 2 to a curtained off cubicle in the long dormitory.

Our mess for the first few meals was in the main hall, but very soon we ate in a hut where our meals were cooked outside in field ovens by the catering corps trainees. We felt sorry for the girls out there in the cold and rain, but the food was often inedible! Not at all like home cooking. When the Orderly Officer came round some of the braver girls complained, but it cut no ice with her! The cloisters around the main building were supposed to be haunted by the 鈥楲ady in Grey鈥�, so none of us hung around there after dark; we scuttled back and forth like hunted rabbits.

On the second morning, Saturday, we were awakened by our dormitory corporal, who was stamping up and down and hollering at the top of her voice, telling us to make haste to the ablutions [washroom] and get dressed. After breakfast we were marched to the Medical Room and given a smallpox vaccination and injections against Tetanus and other things. Everything except the plague I think. Back to the dormitory we were exhorted to sweep out and clean up the dormitory as well as clean our brasses and shoes. Anything to keep us moving, but next day we were allowed to rest on our bunks, but try and keep the painful arms moving. Few of us felt like dancing the polka, our arms were sore and we felt sick and sorry for ourselves.

Monday morning the training began in earnest no matter how ill we felt, and it was a woebegone looking lot who were paraded on the drill ground. For three weeks we drilled, had lectures on King鈥檚 Regulations, security, our general behaviour etc. and taught the mysteries of Daily Orders, besides how to keep our kit clean and in good order. We spent hours in the evenings polishing our brasses with Brasso and button sticks, and our shoes with Cherry Blossom and spit. I never did find out how spit made the polish shine better. There were strict rules about our dress being immaculate at all times, if not you would get extra duties like double drill or washing out the toilets. We did guard duties and hoped that neither the enemy nor the Grey Lady would visit us at night. If a German had appeared I don鈥檛 remember us having anything but a torch to defend ourselves.

During this time we took exams, some written, some practical, to decide which branch of the Army you were best fitted for. The Royal Artillery 鈥榩racticals鈥� were the hardest as you needed good eyesight, quick reactions and good co-ordination. My co-ordination was non existent so I failed the exam spectacularly. The rest of the tests were a piece of cake and I was mustered into the Royal Signals and was to go on a 6 weeks Teleprinter course in Putney at the end of December. Unfortunately I fell ill just a few days before I was due to leave and was hospitalised. When I returned to Barracks I found I had missed the course and there were to be no more for the time being as they had more girls than places. I was asked to go on a Wireless Op鈥檚 course, but I turned it down and asked if I could re-muster into the Royal Engineers and go with the four girls left in my draft who were waiting to go into the Royal Engineer鈥檚 Postal Service [R.E.P.S], we were friends anyway, so I was pleased to be accepted. Whilst waiting to go to Nottingham we were kept occupied at Bowerham Barracks a regular army barracks in the town. Here we altered, and stitched buttons on the men鈥檚 great coats, much to the amusement of the resident soldiers. It was boring in the extreme, and we were constantly harassed by the men who thought we were a huge joke.

CHAPTER 2

The Army Postal Service played a very vital part in time of war, helping to keep up the morale of the servicemen who were fighting in all parts of the globe. It has never been given the credit due to it, even though both men and women postal workers lost their lives in the course of their duties, both in this country due to enemy bombing, and overseas. General Montgomery was heard to say that his soldiers could march for 3 or 4 days without food on the strength of one letter from home. During 1939 -1945 over 5,000 men and women, [R.E.P.S. and 5 companies of A.T.S.] worked in the various offices in Nottingham.

On the 29th January 1943, a cold wet miserable day, we 5 girls entrained for Nottingham where we were met by a most disagreeable ATS Corporal, who had only recently received her second stripe. I won鈥檛 give her name, but many years later we met at a Reunion and she was most surprised to hear we thought her rather grim! However, we forgot about that and had a good chat with her and her husband. I鈥檓 sure we were so miserable when we arrived that day, anyone would have been in our bad books. We were entreated to climb up into a 3 ton lorry, a very difficult operation for us in our skirts, with lots of leg and khaki bloomers showing. To many guffaws, wolf whistles and rude words from the men already in the truck, we finally made it and were driven to our first billet. An old house in Alfred St. off Mansfield Road, it was heart breaking. It was a six roomed house with no hot water, no heating, and the bathroom and so called kitchen were disgusting, with a rusty bath and sink, and only cold water if you could persuade some to issue from the rusty taps. Fortunately we were only there a week, and were then transferred to Elm Road, only marginally better than Alfred St. Four of us were in the attic where the small fireplace opened out to the sky; there was no chimney! Boy was it cold and draughty in there.

A week later we were moved again, but this time into Musters Road, at West Bridgford. These were large detached or semi detached houses and modern as they had only been built a few years earlier. The inhabitants had their houses commandeered by the MOD for the duration of the war. We never did find out where they went or if they were compensated, I do hope so. The rooms were spacious, the bathroom and kitchen clean, and best of all, heated water to bath in. There was a cellar where the rationed coal was kept, but we were only allowed a bucketful for the fire in the common room in the evenings, which was lit by the billet orderly. Eventually we became more proficient at obtaining, by hook or by crook, the finer things in life and often lifted loose tiles from the wooden floors in the office where we worked. The tiles we carried back from work in the winter evenings to light a fire in our bedroom, or maybe anything we could find in the cellar. Everything was grist to our mill. Funnily enough we were never caught, or else the duty officers never suspected what we were up to, though how the missing floor tiles were accounted for I do not know. We had a large garden, albeit neglected, but we could sit out there in the summer and write our letters home. More on this later.

Nottingham became the Home Depot of the Army Post Office, having been moved there, first from Mount Pleasant, London, at the outbreak of the war, but because of the fear of disruption due to enemy action, and also restricted space, it moved to Reading and shortly afterwards to Bournemouth. Because the ports from which the bulk of the surface mail was sent were Liverpool and Glasgow, the final move was made to Nottingham in May 1941. Nottingham in those days was a small compact and rather lovely University City, with the river Trent running through the outer suburbs. The fact that all the Army and Air Force mail was dealt with in their city, was supposed to be highly secret, but the population would have to be blind and deaf not to know what was going on. Many people in the city welcomed us into their homes for a little TLC, and we can never forget their kindness. Nevertheless the city was rarely bombed even though there was a big ordnance factory at Chilwell on the western outskirts of the city. Many offices and factories all over the city were requisitioned, among them the Vyella shirt factory which had been built only a few years earlier, and an old lace factory known as Hickings, which was on London Road opposite the canal, city incinerator and Notts County Football ground a little further along the road; I occasionally went with a friend to watch County play. The Head Post office in Huntingdon St. was shared by the Civil and Army Post Office, and a depot in Queen St. was taken over by the transport section.

Mail from all over the UK was collected several times a day from the two railway stations, the LNER Victoria station, now a shopping mall, and the LMS Midland in Carrington St. The bags were delivered to the appropriate offices, Hickings being letters, both airmail and surface for destinations abroad, parcels going to various other offices around the city. Here in Hickings where I was employed, after the initial opening and sorting of the bundles into skips, the letters were taken to the 鈥榬oads鈥� as the aisles were called. Each road was made up of about 10 frames, 5 on either side, each frame consisting of 48 pigeon holes. The ground floor was mainly surface mail, the first and second floors a mix of surface and airmail, each frame allotted to a particular battle area. For instance, there would be several individual frames for the Middle East Force [M.E.F.], Central Mediterranean Force [C.M.F.] South East Asia Command [S.E.A.C.] India, North Africa, etc. as well as the Colonies and small islands once coloured pink on our Atlases. Each frame had different coloured labels for their particular area of war. Within the frames, the pigeon holes were labelled with the various regiments, unit and squadrons in that particular battle zone, or the many training centres abroad, especially the RAF fighter crews. Wherever there was a service man there would be a Field Post Office. The Royal, and Merchant Navy鈥檚 mail was dealt with by their own Post Offices.

CHAPTER 3

After 6 weeks training, we girls of the new intake were put to work in different offices around the city, sorting the millions of letters and parcels. I was employed in Hickings, the old lace factory which the Army had commandeered. In the basement, white camouflage nets for the Russian front were being made and the steam rose up through the floorboards of the ground floor, making a terrible smell! Every day we took our lives in our hands as we negotiated the perilous old wooden staircases. They were tinder dry, some of the treads were missing and they were full of knot holes. The Factory Inspectors would have had heart attacks, [if there were any during the war, though I doubt it] and the whole place condemned. As a matter of interest, some years after the war, the reasonably new Vyella factory was pulled down to make way for a By-pass, and the Hickings factory took on a new life by having another floor added, and the whole place renovated. No doubt with new tiles that we had 鈥榓cquisitioned鈥�, and hopefully, new staircases.

In the office we were under the command of the REPS officers and NCOs but out of the office our own ATS Admin Officers were responsible for dealing with our well being and meting out punishment to those who offended, such as not wearing our caps outside, or failing to salute an officer. We were under the same regulations as the men, no relaxing rules because we were the fairer sex! After kit inspections where missing articles had to be explained, there would be a few of us on 鈥榡ankers鈥�, i.e. confined to the billets after work, and given domestic tasks to do. Sometimes there would be a conflict of opinion between the male and female officers, but generally it worked well.

There were several other buildings all over the city, where the girls worked night and day on parcels mail. The girls found it difficult to flick parcels into the correct gaping open mouths of the mail bags which hung on huge frames, and they spent some time in getting it right, but as usual, in the end they were more dexterous than the men. There were also some specialised smaller offices dealing with registered mail, [that office was a secure cage on the first floor in Hickings] and another office for parcels not properly packed. These last would be repacked and sent on their way. The saddest job was returning mail to the next of kin of servicemen who had lost their lives in the fighting, or on troop ships lost at sea, in particular after the debacle in Malaya and Singapore in early 1942. Mail that was already on it鈥檚 way by ship, had to be returned to Nottingham and the sad task of sending mail back to next of kin with covering letters was a particularly harrowing job.

Another office was the Location鈥檚 Section, which was highly secret work. This was where details of the movement and whereabouts of every unit in the British Army were kept, and only a few people worked there. Information would come in from the War Office and Air Ministry and the Postal Section HQ of the various expeditionary forces. A second set was kept elsewhere in case of loss in Nottingham. When a draft was about to be sent overseas the men were given a code [known as the Draft Indices] which was printed onto their kit bags, and only those officers in Locations knew for which theatre of war the code stood. Until the troops landed they could only guess at where they were going, but mail arrived at the same place with them. This job was voluntary as the work carried great responsibility, and the small office had no windows, one heavily locked door and was like Colditz to get in and out, even having to be locked out and back in for a toilet visit, having first gained permission to go! I was offered work here but turned it down; as though it carried Sergeant鈥檚 rank, I would have felt too claustrophobic.

We girls in the letter office worked 3 shifts through 24 hours so we worked nights every three weeks. My section was billeted in Musters Road. The area at West Bridgford was near to Trent Bridge Cricket Ground, and our mess was in the Cricket Pavilion, our medical room in the commentator鈥檚 box, and worst sacrilege of all, we drilled on the hallowed turf! What would Denis Compton et al have thought of that? The mess used by those at Vyella office when on night duty, was in the basement of the Palais de Dance, a well known Mecca in the city. It seemed strange to be eating dinner in the middle of the night where perhaps some of us had been dancing a few hours earlier!

At Hickings, the office was as busy as a beehive, and closely resembled one, with hundreds of pigeon holes stacked with letters. During training, each of us was responsible for one frame and we new girls started quite slowly, until we were able to hit the right 鈥榟ole鈥� practically blindfolded. Our speed going from about 200 an hour until we reached the desired 1,000 items an hour, with a target of 8,000 per shift. As we became proficient and passed the test to become postal workers first class, our pay was raised from the basic shilling [5p] a day to 14 shillings a week [70 pence]. Sometimes we worked on the airmail letter roads, and at other times the surface mail if a dispatch was imminent.

Every so often there would be a shout from a Senior NCO, either Sgt. Major Sam Sewell or RSM Cooley, 鈥淢EF mail going out, get moving!鈥� This meant that that zone鈥檚 surface or airmail was going out in - say 鈥� 2 hours, and then we had to work at top speed to get all the mail sorted, tied in bundles and labelled. We were continually harassed by the male NCOs to work even faster; and woe betide any slackers. I learned a lot of words I had previously never known! From each pigeon hole the bundles were tied with string and labelled, thrown into a skip and then re-sorted into relevant destination mail bags by the men, the sacks tied and sealed with lead seals, and then onto the trucks waiting to take the outgoing mail to either of the 2 Rail stations in the city. The men had to wait for a specific train and load the sacks into the parcels van, and pick up more incoming mail from the civil post offices around the country. So it all started again. Airmail in those days went down to an airfield in Eastleigh, Hampshire, and from there flown to which ever country that particular mail was destined. The surface mail went to either the ports of Liverpool or Glasgow, depending on the destination overseas.

We were eventually issued with battle dress top and trousers, which were much more comfortable to work in than the regular service dress. After some weeks I was transferred from general sorting, to Miscellaneous Section on a specialised job on what was called the Civil Road, to replace a sapper who was going overseas. He was not particularly enthusiastic about teaching me the work he had been doing, but some months later I received a pair of wooden soled sandals sent from him out in Egypt! My job entailed sorting mail for some of the more obscure places in the world as well as civil and naval mail which had been mis-sorted to the HPO. It was a day job so I did not have to work nights. When the tide of war began to go our way, we ATS girls were medically examined for overseas duties. I passed A1 but because I was my widowed Mother鈥檚 only support I was not allowed to go, much to my disappointment.

Christmas time was always terribly busy, and our hours on shifts would be extended, but we sang as we worked, and knew that what we were doing would be appreciated by the thousands of men and women overseas, who were unable to share the holiday with their families. Some weeks before 鈥楧鈥� Day all leave was cancelled and we knew something big was going to happen. A few days before June 6th some of us were transferred to the office at Vyella where all the British Liberation Army [BLA] mail for Europe was to be sorted. Incidentally, R.E.P.S. sappers and the letters for the men who landed on the beaches on 鈥楧鈥� Day were already aboard the ships the night before, landed on the evening of 鈥楧鈥� Day and distributed the mail to the men on the following day. Sadly there were some casualties.

We girls worked up to 13 hour shifts sorting the millions of pieces of mail; it seemed like a never ending task as the piles of letters in front of us never seemed to get any smaller. As one got through a row, another 2 would be piled on top, every one of which had to be cleared for an outgoing mail call. As I was only just over 5 feet tall it took me all my time to see over the top of the pile.

In 1944, 3,000 men and women despatched 340 million letters, 95 million packets and newspapers and 13 million parcels in two and a half million bags to the troops overseas. Both offices had Rediffusion relaying the 大象传媒 Worker鈥檚 Playtime programme, Radio Luxembourg and later the American Forces Radio Networks [AFN Munich and Stuttgart] on the continent, so we knew all the latest pop songs and sang along with such people as Vera Lynn, Anne Shelton, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and all the other pop singers of the day. It certainly helped to relieve a rather monotonous job. We were visited by the Postal Unit鈥檚 Colonel, at that time Colonel Ross, who came especially to thank the girls for their great effort and long hours put in. I remember saying that we really did not have much choice, but nevertheless we appreciated his words.

As things settled down after the initial heavy mails, we from Hickings returned to our own jobs and in my case, the familiar routine of working with mail going to out to unfamiliar places. Even now I can remember some of the destinations in the Sudan, West Africa, India etc. names which previously I had only heard of in Geography lessons at school. At this time, for reasons unknown to me, I was promoted to the dizzy rank of Lance Corporal and was put in charge of the Miscellaneous section, a cause of amusement for all 20 of us as we were friends, and I was given no training for command. The morning parade in the office was like something out of Dad鈥檚 Army, I never knew what reply I would get from some of the girls. It certainly would not have gone down well with our female officers, had they been there. As for our male officers, they mostly ignored us so long as we did the work, only the NCOs treated us the same as the men, and could be terrifying! We hated 鈥榚m! Regimental Sergeant Major Jim Goldie, a Scot with red hair, could be rather testy, but not with the girls, with whom he was firm but fair. If he caught one of us slacking he would say, 鈥淣oo then, wot yer doin鈥�, standin鈥� there at the fittin wi yer knittin鈥�, get sortin鈥�. We of course were definitely not knitting, as there were no seats, we stood for the whole 8 hour shift, except for breaks at lunch or dinner time.

Our off duty hours were well catered for, we had our own ATS Fife and Drum Band who marched with us on special parades. One of my friends who was in the band told me that she only joined to get time off for practice, and that in civilian life she had never played any instrument. Never the less they did a good job and were always smartly turned out. We also had a very good dance band formed by a few men who had played in dance bands pre-war. Bob Whitham, who had been a civil post office counter clerk, composed music and lyrics for our own concert party, and had one of his songs recorded by Billy Merrin鈥檚鈥檚 band, a popular dance orchestra of the day. I still have the old 78 recording of 鈥淭he Trees in Grosvenor Square鈥� sung by Rita Williams. The leader, who was a saxophonist and pianist, was Corporal George Carver a native of Newcastle, who was also my boss at work. My late husband and I kept in touch with George and his wife until recently when sadly, George died too. Some of the girls were very good singers and dancers, and along with some of the sappers put on really professional concerts for us. I remember some of our girls who appeared in the concerts. Edna Rutherford, Nan Christie, Mickey Green, Nan McDonald etc. There were also Sports Clubs for the men and girls, and football and cricket teams. We had plenty of cinemas and a good theatre to visit, as well as the dance halls in the city, and as two of my friends and I had our bicycles with us we often went for cycle rides out into the lovely Nottinghamshire countryside.

CHAPTER 4

In 1945 when the war in Europe was over, the houses we were billeted in were returned to their pre war owners and we were moved out to the now deserted Ack Ack camp at nearby Clifton Village. We were in prefabricated iron huts, with outside showers, wash basins and toilet facilities. Heating was from a coke stove in the centre of each hut, which filled the place with smoke and sometimes we had no fuel to keep it going, so we piled great coats onto our wooden beds to keep warm at night.
There was also a Rediffusion loudspeaker and we were lulled to sleep by the velvety tones of a man鈥檚 voice from AFN Munich, Stuttgart, singing 鈥淥ut of your Dreams鈥� from Carousel. Then an unseen hand would switch it off at about 11pm. We were bussed into work each day, but in February 1946 there were disastrous floods in Nottingham so on a couple of days we were unable to get through. We didn鈥檛 mind that of course.

As the tide of war went well for the allies, some of the men were sent back to this country and were transferred to Nottingham, working beside us, filling the places of other postal workers going abroad, such as a quite big contingent of REPS who were sent out to India and Singapore from the office. As demobilisation got under way after the end of the war, the married girls and older men, some of whom were volunteers around 60 years old began to leave and National Service men arrived to carry on the good work in peace time. I was demobilised on March 1st 1946 after over 3 years in the Army Post Office and went back to my civilian job in Harrogate in the Accountant General鈥檚 Office. A year later I married and returned to Middlesbrough to live.

All in all it was a satisfying job, perhaps not as dangerous as the brave Ack Ack [Anti Aircraft] girls, but still a necessary job, and we helped keep up the morale of those men who fought overseas for us. From being a very na茂ve young woman I learned a lot about life, and never regretted my time in the ATS and particularly the Army Post Office. Now the service is part of the Royal Logistics Corps, and known as the Postal and Courier Service. As long as there is an army and air force there will be postal workers, as now in Iraq. I believe the Royal Navy and Diplomatic mail is also now handled by the Army Post Office.

We have had a thriving Army Post Office Association since 1985 and though the numbers are diminishing, it is still going strong and in June this year we will celebrate the 60th anniversary of the end of the war in Europe and Far East, with several ceremonies in Llandudno where our APA reunions are now held. We may be old in age but still young at heart and cherish our comradeship of those sometimes sad years. I still have friends from those days, and we correspond with each other or even visit. Happy memories.

Ex. W231334 Pelmear D. L/Cpl. R.E.P.S.

ADDITIONAL MEMORIES

The other girls with whom I travelled down from Lancaster Training Centre to Nottingham, were Eileen Dawson from Colne, Lancs., later Mrs. Victor Gates; Lilian Johnson, from Mill Hill now Mrs.Vincett of Peterborough; Joan Rippard from the Hull area; and Millie Simpson from Uxbridge later became Mrs. Seal. Of these, I am still in contact with Lilian, and till recently, Millie, whose husband died 2 or 3 years ago. I would love to know what became of Eileen and Joan. I tried finding Eileen, but was told she may have gone to Canada with Victor who was a civil engineer. Eileen and I used to visit the families of 2 sisters in Arnold, I to Mr. and Mrs Sulley and Eileen to Mr. and Mrs.Fish, both living in the same road.

I now know that the second house in Musters Road where I was billeted was Room 9, No. 104. Thanks to little Celia Livermore, who put that at the end of her contribution to my autograph album in 1943. I wonder what happened to her? Celia was Welsh and like most of her countrymen loved singing. Every night in the billet she would turn my future husband鈥檚 picture to the wall whilst she undressed, and then in her glamorous blue striped pyjamas turn it back and sing to him 鈥淪ome Enchanted Evening鈥� from South Pacific. In my room at that time there were 2 other girls who were my friends. Cherry Heap from Macclesfield, she was married, her husband [a teacher in Bradford in peacetime] was an officer in the Army abroad.
Also Dodie [Dorothea] Pace from Whalley Range, Manchester, a sweet good natured girl who read her bible every night and put the rest of us to shame. Her family were members of the Plymouth Brethren, and so Dodie had never been to a theatre, cinema, dance hall or pub. We introduced her to them all! After the war, she trained as a nurse at the Brethren鈥檚 Mildmay Mission Hospital in London, which later became known for its compassionate treatment of Aids victims. She married a doctor and they went out to Kenya to work. They had three children, later moving to New Zealand where sadly Dodie died of cancer. We corresponded for some years then lost touch, so a few years ago I contacted the Secretary of the Mildmay hospital and asked if anyone knew what had happened to her. Some of the older staff remembered her, but did not know where she had gone after Africa. By sheer co-incidence, another girl, Eva Errington with whom I had worked in Hickings and who I met again at one of the Re-unions, happened to speak to Dodie鈥檚 sister in law in Carlisle, who was able to tell us that she had died in New Zealand. I then informed the Secretary of the Mildmay so that Dodie鈥檚 friends there would be told the sad news.

I was Lilian鈥檚 bridesmaid in 1943 on her first marriage, but sadly her husband was killed in 1944 after 鈥楧鈥� Day. Lilian left me behind when she was made up to Sergeant, and was moved to another section, but we found each other again through the APA. We are in constant touch and I visit her and Phil as often as I can when I go down there to visit my cousin in Uppingham. Phil has just celebrated his 90th birthday.

During our time in Nottingham, Lilian, Dodie, Eileen and I often used to go to the Albert Hall to the orchestral concerts. We sat in the cheapest seats behind the orchestra, so we would be deafened by the drums and brass, but we loved to be able to see the faces of the conductors. We saw all the famous orchestras, conductors and musicians there, and when the concerts were over we would go along to our favourite eatery, the Toc H. Club in St. James Street. Here we feasted on dripping toast with baked beans, much better than the toast and cocoa in the mess.

Does anyone remember the concerts in the Congregational Hall I think it was, when the US Army concert parties would entertain, and very professional they were too. There were a lot of Americans in the city, and I remember seeing my first black man when the GIs came to town. We first saw them on an open piece of ground in Carrington St. There were dozens of huge trucks parked there, all driven by black GIs, and I remember how frightened we were of them. Those days were very different from today when so many 鈥榝oreigners鈥� are integrated into our communities. We soon became used to seeing them around.

I hope this brings back memories of some of the friends we all made in those years in the REPS. Thanks to you all, male and female 鈥� it was good to know you.