The news from Europe was very grave. Whenever a BBC announcer came on with news, he identified himself in a special way, to make sure no false news could be aired. No more weather forecasts were given; the weather was a military secret now. We no longer enjoyed the beauty of moonlight. On bright nights, the Home Guard now patrolled the beaches with guns watching for paratroopers.

    Norway fell in less than a week. The R.A.F. had been sent to aid in their defence, but were overwhelmed. Among the relief units was my older brother, who later told us of no supplies being able to reach them at Arnhem, where in the bitter cold all they got to eat was a crate of oranges! It was quite impossible to get an orange in England!

    By 1940, the Nazi juggernaut had crushed all resistance in Belgium and Holland. Our ships were assembling in the Channel to rescue the B.E.F. from the French beaches. It was obvious that they would have to be withdrawn. These brave men had been fighting for 24 hours, without respite. Their supplies and ammunition were gone.

    A strange and wonderful fleet quietly assembled along the Southern shores of England, never seen before in her long history. Every man who owned a little boat joined this wonderful procession. The evacuation began on May 10, 1940. My older brother by then was stationed at Dover Castle. He described the unceasing efforts of the male and female ambulance drivers, who made endless trips to the incoming ships to take the wounded to local hospitals. Throughout the whole month of May, this frantic activity went on at Dover. By the 31^st only the rear guard was left on the shore. Every vessel that was seaworthy came from all over England to help. They picked up our precious men under the constant bombardment of the hated Nazis. There were Dutch oyster boats, little pleasure boats, even a London fire boat. Many others too numerous to mention answered the desperate call to pluck England’s brave sons from the cold waters. Twenty trains a day left Dover, carrying the wounded to inland hospitals.

    By now the people of Dover could hear the gunfire, and see the flashes from the French shore. Our radios were left on all day, every day. Finally it came, on the 1 o’clock news from France. France had asked for an Armistice. There was a terrible silence. … We all knew what that meant. But no one wanted to speak of it. Now the Nazis were on the coast, just 25 miles away from us. Suddenly, that silly song came to my mind, "We’ll hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line." We used to march to it. Now that Line was gone and so was the Maginot Line. For the first time in my life, I knew what fear was! Cold and sickening in my stomach. Now Hitler’s mighty war machine was within gunfire of our shores!

    The bulletins were coming in all day on the radio, instructions and warnings. Leaflets were distributed, "What to do in the event of an invasion." Churchill, of course, delivered his "Ditches and Hedgerows" speech. We were to expect parachute landings, we must never give a stranger directions, all signposts were removed, all railroad station names taken down. Power stations and reservoirs were carefully guarded. Barbed wire and tank traps were erected on the beaches. The silver of the barrage balloons shone overhead, and after dark the searchlight beams probed the sky. These made new categories for the ATS personnel.

    The R.A.F. was now bombing German targets, and the Nazis were shelling Dover. Those small pleasure boats were now busy detonating mines in the Channel with machine guns.

    Once more, I was on the treadmill, with endless lines of men to serve with the first food they had seen in days. All they had been given was the Army’s hot sweet tea, a supposed morale booster! The trucks came in droves to the Higher Barracks, filled with men who had stood for hours, up to their waists in the icy sea, waiting to be picked up by some craft hastily pressed into service, hoping it would hold together to reach Dover. Many men had very little uniform left. They were covered in mud, soaked in seawater, blood and oil. Among them were some of the 50,000 French that our Navy had rescued, hungry, cold and dejected. Obviously this influx ended my assignment at the Officers’ Mess; all hands were needed in this desperate hour. We seemed to work endlessly, and not with the cheerful atmosphere prevalent at Plympton. This was a defeated group, officers and men, all mixed in together, many not even speaking English. That they escaped from France at all had been a miracle, but they, of course, thought their effort had been in vain. A huge quantity of equipment was lost, too. The lessons learned on those fateful beaches were paid for in fearful bloodshed.

    All the children were evacuated from London by train. The roads were all busy with dispatch riders and convoys. We heard the anti-aircraft guns down by the sea, and the throbbing sound of the German planes above.

    On the radio Vera Lynn serenaded the "White Cliffs of Dover" between announcements of how many of our aircraft were missing over Germany.

    I worked at the Other Ranks mess for some time after Dunkirk. This made it necessary for me to walk from Rowancroft across the city at 4:30 a.m. The city looked so peaceful in the clear winter moonlight.

    Cooks were excused Church Parade, NCO Duty and Fire Guard. Once again, "C" Company was divided, part of it sent to the Citadel at Plymouth. However, on recommendation I was sent to take over the Southern Command officers’ mess in Tavistock. There were four officers there and the Group Commandant, Lady Francis Acland. Beside the four officers at the headquarters, there were often large luncheons for all of the officers in the Group. The staff consisted of myself and two orderlies. This assignment was supposed to be a promotion, but I missed my friends in Exeter. The two orderlies were from a Cornish company. When I could get a pass I went either back to Exeter or into Plymouth. One of my friends was stationed at Plumer Barracks in Plymouth, so I would spend the night with her. I knew many old friends also among the Royal Engineers there.

    Some summer evenings we walked to the Golden Hind, or the Blue Monkey, both roadhouses where we played darts and drank some Devon cider. All the local buses stopped at 10 p.m., so if I didn’t stay at Plumer I had to catch an Army vehicle. Once, the only thing available was a dispatch rider. The only place he had available was the rack on the back where he carried the pigeons!

    We heard every day of the air battles over London and coastal Surrey, Essex and Sussex, but up to now we had been spared. Sometimes we heard the Naval gunfire off Plymouth. The number of aircraft overhead increased. "Our aircraft missing" began to mount in numbers. Lord Haw Haw was now boasting about our aircraft casualties, and the voice of Axis Sally goaded our troops.

    The R.A.F. was fighting gallantly, but losses were mounting, and the aircraft could not be replaced. The air raids on the East coast were increasing. My sister was stationed at Ipswitch, Suffolk, in the Navy, a very hazardous area. Food supplies were getting dangerously low, and there were long queues everywhere.

    By now, in 1941, the outlook was very grim. I had my 21^st birthday at Tavistock. The Group Commander gave me a blue leather fitted writing case which I used throughout my service, and later gave to my sister.

    I had to hunt up fresh vegetables, etc., from the local farmers, to augment the officers’ rations, and serve meals as close to the previous standard as I could. I learned to work miracles with the dried egg, meat and fish paste and the Army issue of canned herrings. Many odd things were hidden in curry, or cheese sauce! On the day of the group luncheon, there could be up to 50 guests. They were perforce served a buffet, most of the food being cooked the day before. I became acquainted with all the officers in the group, which was an advantage later on.

    We were now issued with much smarter uniforms, a belted tunic, of much finer material, and nice stockings. Our new dress hat was very attractive, of the "Glengerry" type, of chocolate brown, with lime green piping, and the cleft was a rust colour, with our cap badge it was quite attractive. Whenever we went out we had to carry the bulky respirator slung over our shoulder. It contained the gas mask, earplugs (against blast) and the anti-gas ointment, for mustard gas. It was a punishable offence to stuff anything else in the case, and we could be stopped by the M.P. for inspection. We also had to carry our steel helmets at all times when out of the barracks. All this, weighing about ten pounds, was slung over our backs, which made us rather unpopular on crowded buses and trains!

    In 1941 I was sent on a further Training Course at Heathfield Camp, near Honiton; when I passed the tests I was eligible for higher pay. By this time I was getting two-year proficiency, and good conduct pay. At Tavistock there was a company of the Royal Army Signal Corps, and with them, we used to play the inevitable table tennis and darts at the local Recreation Hall run by a church. There was one radio operator who was sometimes my escort to the movies, or other entertainment, until he was transferred to the Scilly Isles. We corresponded with a lot of the people that we met at different stations; of course many of the letters were cut into ribbons by the censors. I spent most weekends in Exeter, often taking surplus food, to eke out the meager supply that my parents existed on.

    When I had been at the H.Q. for two years, I was sent on another trade course, and on passing it, I got extra pay. On completion of the course, I was given charge of the ATS mess at Raglan Barracks, Plymouth, which I liked very much. As a corporal I was now in charge of the ATS Mess there, with two orderlies, one of whom, to my embarrassment, was a sergeant. There were 30 women eating in the Mess, all clerks working on the base. The quarters were comfortable, even to hot water in the rooms. The mess had been badly run, the equipment neglected. The first thing I did was have an inventory taken. Then I submitted a list to the Quartermaster for replacements.

    I had not been there a week when I burned my arm badly with hot grease. I was the only one there, and had to stay to serve lunch. When I did get to the hospital, I found that the medical officer was a white-haired old colonel of the Medical Corps who, obviously, had no use for women in the Army. He seemed to think that I did it on purpose to get a few days off! He missed no opportunity in the days that followed to rip the dressing off, as if he were peeling a banana, heedless of the skin that came off with it!

    My return to duty was a relief. The first day I was back I was visited by the mess sergeant of the artillery battery on the post. He had heard of my experience with the M.O. and sympathized. He was very helpful in dealing with RASC drivers who brought the daily deliveries of rations. Several times he asked me out for an evening, but it was not good policy to make dates with the people at work. The barracks was located in a very rough quarter of the city, and the buses stopped at ten, and there were many unsavory bars in the area, so sometimes I was glad of an escort. The bars were off limits to service people, but they were full of civilians. Once in a while, the sergeant and I walked on Plymouth Hoe, which was very beautiful in the bright moonlight. All the warships had left now, and it seemed strangely empty. This sergeant even proposed to me, but even though I liked his company, this was no time for permanent commitments.

    The room I shared with two other girls was directly under the gun emplacement and the anti-aircraft fire really shook the building. The sirens would wail, the guns would start firing, and sleep was impossible. The barracks were heavily fortified, and at night only one gate was left open, guarded by a machine gun emplacement. Everyone was challenged, and the sentry was ordered to shoot if he got no reply. I usually waited until someone else was going in; I could imagine losing my voice at the crucial moment!

    By this time the city was a nightmare, compared to my previous visit. The streets were very dark of course, and there was rubble and ruins of buildings. The population dreaded the nights: they left in droves, every evening, to drive to the moors, away from the city. The moonlight, which made it easy for the enemy to find his targets, had become very unwelcome. Travel was very difficult, the once-wide streets now paths through tons of stone and masonry; crumbled homes and stores were now the unhallowed graves of the unfortunate inhabitants. Many of the barracks and bases were bombed, and the men and women in them lost their lives.

    The Royal Artillery, Navy and Marines put up a tremendous barrage. Their defence was superb, in fact, because we saw so many of the flaming Dorniers fall into the sea that it later became our shoulder patch, a flaming Dornier in orange and red, on a black background. The worst of the damage was done in a period of two weeks, and when it dwindled the Services and the citizens began to clean up the carnage. The grisly job of digging out the poor victims was undertaken by the Royal Engineers, civilians, and German POWs; the stench was indescribable. The ancient heart of the city gone, her stately Guildhall, Post Office, and the two main churches were decimated. This was one of the infamous Baedecker raids, spite raids, by men who had been tourists in the same city in peacetime, and knew where all their targets were. This was the same way they eventually bombed Exeter, Coventry and York.

    At this time, I received notification that I was transferred to Exeter. I was to report to "A" Company, a clerical company attached to the Royal Army Pay Corps. I wouldn’t have chosen this assignment; I preferred to serve with a combat unit. The Pay Corps is composed of men of low physical grades, trained as clerks. Some of our women were much better soldiers!

    The company occupied five requisitioned houses in the city; I was sent to one of them, Fairpark House. The staff included another corporal, myself, and one cook. I was told the assignment was temporary, and I was soon sent to Rowancroft again. There had been extensive alterations to the old house and it now housed a platoon of "A" Company. The officers’ mess was no longer there, more bathrooms had been added, and there was a new sergeants’ mess. I had a staff of two cooks and an orderly (one orderly had formerly been a Welsh sheep herder, and spoke very little English when she was conscripted, but she gradually learned).

    I instituted many changes there. The mess was very poorly organized. I initiated shifts, and got permission from the Messing Officer for each cook to get a day off. I posted duty rosters, and submitted menus for a week at a time. The biggest challenge was getting the equipment properly cleaned. The officers of a clerical company are not very efficient on inspections.

    There were still many recreation facilities in the city, and the canteens were still flourishing. A friend of mine from G Company at Plumers was now transferred to Exeter, with another company at Topsham Barracks. Not long after my return, my cousin, who had joined the Navy, came home on shore leave. He was the same age as me, and we had grown up together. I was so happy to see him home safe for a while. We went out for the evening with two other friends. On the way back to the barracks we all sang songs; unfortunately, our Commanding Officer came by in her staff car, so I was restricted to quarters for a week.

    It was the usual pitch dark night, and after we saw my friend home, we were crossing the street and were hit by a car with no lights. We were knocked down, and all I could think was that my cousin had come through the war at sea, only to be killed on the street at home. I heard the screech of the brakes, but the driver could not stop in time. The next thing I knew, I was under the car, being dragged along, and there was oil and mud in my hair. I felt for my cousin when the car stopped, and his hand was cold and clammy, I thought he was dead. The police ambulance came and took us to the hospital, where they dressed our injuries, which were not too serious. I had a torn uniform, and a long abrasion on one leg, and my cousin had a cut over his eye that required stitches.

    The next day the ambulance came and took me to the ATS Reception Station where our Medical Officer examined me and put my leg in an oiled dressing; the skin was gone from the knee up. I was at the station for six weeks. I had many visitors during that time, and my dear Mother cooked me special food, no doubt depleting her own rations to do so. My cousin came up from the Naval barracks in Plymouth and brought fruit. Another surprise visitor was the artillery sergeant from Raglan, bringing books and chocolate. It was very embarrassing; he repeated his offer of marriage, but I declined. I did receive a letter from him once more, to say he had volunteered for the bomb disposal squad at Canvey Island in Essex. This was one of the most hazardous stations in England, known as Hell Fire Corner, under constant fire, day and night. He wasn’t there long before I heard he had lost both legs. My sister was stationed there in the Navy.

    I was very shaky after my discharge from the hospital. I thought I would get sick leave. Instead, the C.O. put me on a charge, relating to the singing incident. I was confined to barracks for two weeks. It was during this time that Exeter got its first air raid. For some time I was given different assignments when people were on leave, a fate I had escaped until now. The company was getting larger every week, with the advent of conscription, and the quality of the recruits was worsening rapidly. The camp at Honiton was now taken over entirely as an ATS training centre, and the city was quite crowded with recruits. For the first time, it was necessary to station a unit of ATS Military Police in this area. The police themselves were all new recruits. It was not a category older members would chose.

    I was once again sent to ETC for another grade test, which I passed and added another increment to my pay. The service had changed a great deal since 1939. Now we were an integral part of the regular Army, directed from the War Office by our own Commander, Dame Helen Gwynn Vaughn, and we were under all Army regulations, subject to court martial and arrest. At this time, A Company acquired a new C.O., a woman I had known in the 1^st Devons, and also at Tavistock. It was not long after the arrival of this officer that one of the recruits tried to commit suicide, by drinking Lysol. Before the new Army regulations came in, those who were unhappy would desert, but now it was a court martial offense. The woman in question recovered in the hospital and was discharged and assigned to factory work. Sometimes those people were sent to a defence factory of the Land Army.

    The Hotel Richmond in Exeter had been taken over as an ATS barracks, and I was assigned to take charge of the cooks and orderlies there. The mess contained 60 clerical personnel and three sergeants. At the bottom of the garden there was a company of the RASC. These men were very pleased to see us move in. Very soon we made a deal with them: We would cook their food, and they would see that we would get prompt delivery of rations! Some afternoons we would make tea for them and they would bring some pastries. They were a very pleasant group, and sometimes we would accompany them to dinner or a movie, "fish and chips" were the only food outside. We were all quite partial to "Pym’s No. 1" at the Old Cavalier Inn, near the cathedral, before it was blown to bits in an air raid.

    As soon as the Richmond was organized and working smoothly, I was again transferred. After another trade course at ECTC, this time for 1^st Class Rating, I had reached as high as I could get. This was the period when the Army was accepting applications for transfer to the more technical jobs on the Ack Ack stations, to train as Kine-Theodolite operators (a new device for photographing and tracking the anti-aircraft fire to improve accuracy), radar operators, range finders, and searchlight crew. I passed the adaptability test and was approved for training. I was very excited at the prospect of such interesting work, but my Commanding Officer refused to release me, because of my high trade rating; all units were short of qualified cooks.

    The air raids were more frequent now, all along the South coast. One of the Pay Corps offices here in the city was hit. We were doing a lot of air raid and fire drills, and we had to take our turns on the Fire Picket every week. There were a lot of gas drills too, and we had to report for duty carrying our respirators for practice. Sometimes we would forget and try and taste food in them.

Stories                                   One Woman's War, Page 4