The Girls in Blue

by Fenella J Miller

  *

  Joan and Nora arrived looking equally smart in their new uniforms.

  ‘We’ve got to polish all the buttons, and the belt buckle and make them shine, before we go back downstairs,’ Nora said.

  An hour later they rejoined the other recruits in the recreation hall and Jane was pleased to see that the five of them had the shiniest buttons. Nancy had shown them all how to apply both spit and polish and a great deal of elbow grease to the task and they’d all achieved a magnificent result.

  An announcement blared out over the tannoy, telling them to report to the desk to receive their numbers.

  Yet another RAF sergeant, again in his middle years, was waiting for them.

  ‘There’s something you need to know,’ he said loudly and his voice carried wonderfully down the line of expectant girls. ‘From now on you answer to your number. You eat by number, get paid by number, go on leave by number, get put on a charge by number; if you don’t know your number inside out, you’re in big trouble. You need to learn it immediately.’

  He handed her a slip of paper and she hastily moved aside whilst opening it. She was now Aircraft Woman Second Class number 472374. It was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. There was no chance that man would ever find her as she was now anonymous.

  Over tea and a couple of ginger nuts they recited their numbers to each other and she was confident none of them would ever forget them. The evening was spent sewing on name tapes.

  ‘Tomorrow we can go into Harrogate to shop,’ Charlotte said as she bit the thread on the last tape.

  ‘We are supposed to be sending postcards saying that we’ve arrived safely but I don’t think I’ll bother. I’m going to wait until we’re posted,’ Jane said.

  ‘I don’t expect to get any letters from my horrible family so I’m not going to do it either. What about you, Nancy?’

  ‘I ain’t too clever with writing and such but I’ll send a card anyway. We’ve got to bundle up our civvy clothes and send them back as well.’

  ‘I certainly can’t send my things to the vicarage. I’m not sure what I’ll do with them.’ She hesitated and then continued. ‘Do you think I could send them to your address, Nancy? Maybe there’s someone your ma could give them to.’

  ‘She’ll get a few bob for them and it’ll make all the difference. I ain’t proud and neither is she.’

  ‘In which case, I’ll do the same,’ Charlotte said.

  *

  The following morning everything was different. The room was immaculate, every bed stacked as it should be, four of them ready for inspection. Joan still hadn’t spoken and she was the only one not smartly turned out.

  Before they were allowed to leave, they were to have their first drill instruction and were going to learn how to salute. This didn’t seem too complicated and she was actually looking forward to spending a morning becoming a proper WAAF.

  The unfortunate sergeant given the task of teaching them was practically tearing out his hair after an hour. Half the girls didn’t appear to know their right from their left and they kept colliding with each other or walking in the wrong direction. She was weak with laughter and he was practically apoplectic with rage.

  Eventually he abandoned the drill. Now came the lesson on how to salute. ‘This shouldn’t be so difficult,’ Charlotte whispered to her. ‘I can’t believe that any of us will have trouble grasping this.’

  How wrong she was. The palm of the right hand had to face forwards, straight fingers and thumb held tightly together so that no light could be seen between them. The longest finger had to be placed exactly one inch behind the side of the right eye on the temple.

  She was paired with Nancy and Charlotte with Nora. Joan hadn’t been seen since breakfast.

  ‘Righto, you go first, Jane. I ain’t too sure exactly what we got to do.’

  On her first attempt she poked herself in the eye. Nancy’s first go pushed her cap off the back of her head. Eventually they mastered the technique and were dismissed.

  Some of the girls were meeting up at the YMCA as their passes were until 21:45, nine forty-five, but Nancy advised against it.

  ‘There’ll be blokes up to no good, looking for a bit of the other; better we stay away.’

  Jane wasn’t entirely sure what this meant but was happy to comply. Mrs Evans had said Nancy would need protection but the reverse was true.

  ‘Then shall we go to the pictures? Might be months before we get another opportunity,’ Charlotte suggested.

  ‘I’ve not seen Wizard of Oz,’ Nancy said eagerly. ‘What about you, Jane?’

  ‘I’ve never been to the pictures. I’d be happy to see anything at all.’

  *

  They returned to the Majestic in good time and after cocoa and a bun retired to their room. Joan’s locker was clear, the two hooks provided for her spare uniform empty.

  ‘I thought she’d leave. As we volunteered we can change our minds anytime. Do you think Nora has gone as well?’

  Nancy checked and the locker was full. ‘No, she ain’t left. Wonder when we get to hand in them parcels of clothes?’ She pointed to the lumpy brown paper and string bundles waiting on the floor by the door.

  ‘The tannoy said after breakfast. Then we’ve got drill and then some sort of medical thing,’ Charlotte said as she looked at the notes she’d made in her diary. ‘Think we’re going to be inoculated – hope you don’t mind being a pincushion.’

  5

  The ever-present and noisy loudspeaker informed them they were to take their parcels to the mailroom immediately after breakfast.

  ‘Does anyone have any idea where the mailroom’s situated?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Haven’t the foggiest, but I expect someone will know. Let’s hope it’s not outside as its tipping down out there,’ Charlotte answered.

  Unfortunately, they had to cross a large expanse of concrete to take the parcel of no-longer-needed clothes. As drill was to start in half an hour, they couldn’t hang about waiting for the rain to stop.

  ‘We’ve got these cape things, so we shouldn’t get disastrously wet. I’m game if you two are.’ Charlotte had got her parcel beneath the voluminous wet weather garment and she and Nancy did the same. They set off at a run.

  She was halfway across when she stepped into a large puddle, lost her balance and dropped her parcel in the water. She recovered it immediately but the damage was done. The paper was sodden, the clothes not much better. It couldn’t possibly be posted in this condition.

  Either she could return and try and find some more paper and risk being late for drill or see if the person in charge in the mailroom would accept it as it was. She decided on the latter. She’d been dithering long enough to be drenched to the skin – this wouldn’t go down well with her superiors either.

  Her explanation was received with indifference. ‘Get it done properly and bring it back. Dismissed.’

  It took her far too long to find another piece of brown paper and rewrap her parcel. Perhaps it would have been better not to change out of her wet clothes, which took up a further fifteen minutes but she was prone to bronchitis and didn’t want to risk getting ill.

  Eventually she was able to hand it in but was then disastrously late for drill. At least it wasn’t raining now so she wouldn’t get wet a second time.

  She approached the area at the back of the hotel where drill took place with some trepidation. No point in procrastinating. If she was going to be put on a charge she might as well get it over with.

  This time the manoeuvring and marching was slightly better than yesterday. She joined the end of the line and completed the session without putting a foot wrong. Should she go and apologise to the sergeant or wait until he summoned her?

  The group was dismissed; he disappeared and she was left to wonder if her absence had been noted at all.

  ‘Jane, they did a roll call. I’m afraid you’re in for the high jump,’ Charlotte told her as they headed for the medical room for their
various inoculations.

  ‘I guessed as much. I suppose I just wait for someone to summon me. I dropped my parcel and it took ages to get it sorted out.’

  Nancy appeared to have bonded with Nora who came from Stratford so, although not quite an East Ender, she had a similar background to hers.

  There was no time to dwell on this as immediately after lunch she followed her friends to the medical rooms where the doctor proceeded to stick several needles in her left arm. This was done so quickly she had no time to ask for it to be done in her right as she was in fact left-handed.

  By the evening her arm was throbbing, twice the size it should be and red-hot.

  ‘That doesn’t look good, Jane. Mine’s just a bit pink and sore,’ Charlotte said. ‘Is it very painful?’

  ‘What do you think? I’ve got some aspirin in my toilet bag – I think they might help a bit. It’s a good thing we haven’t got anything else official to do as I doubt that I could do it.’

  She’d forgotten about her misdemeanour until an NCO stalked in. ‘ACW 472374, on your feet.’

  She jumped to attention and then her head spun and everything went black. When she came around she was in bed – someone had made it up for her – and Charlotte was sitting beside her reading a book.

  ‘The doctor said you’d had an extreme reaction but would be fine in a day or two. It’s a good thing really.’

  Blearily Jane opened her eyes. She didn’t take in what her friend had said as she had other more urgent matters in her mind. Her arm was agony, and she needed the WC immediately.

  ‘Can you help me to stand up? I must go for a pee.’

  When she returned and flopped into bed she recalled what Charlotte had said. ‘Why do you think it’s a good thing that I’m so unwell?’

  ‘The NCO said she hadn’t decided whether to put you on a charge as the drill sergeant said you were the best of the bunch when you did arrive. The fact that you’re so ill from the injections made her feel sorry for you.’

  ‘I won’t be able to go downstairs for dinner – I don’t suppose you could find me a drink of some sort?’

  ‘Voilà! Nancy and Nora managed to find a thermos flask and get the canteen to fill it with tea – no sugar. It’s eight o’clock – I suppose I should say 20:00 – and we had our tea ages ago. There’s a plate of half-decent sandwiches and a sticky bun if you fancy them.’

  ‘Tea would be wonderful but I don’t want anything to eat. They mustn’t go to waste so why don’t you eat them? You seem to be able to devour everything on your plate and yet remain lovely and slender.’

  ‘My family are tall and thin and we all eat like horses – not eat horses, I hasten to add, although I’m quite certain that they do that in France.’

  *

  Over the next two weeks they became a homogenous whole and were no longer raw recruits who didn’t know the left foot from the right. Jane enjoyed the camaraderie and knew that she’d made lifelong friends with Charlotte, Nancy and Nora.

  ‘It would appear that we’re being split into two groups and posted to either Pannal Ash or Ash Vale,’ Charlotte told her as they sat reading in the recreation hall.

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Both places are in Harrogate somewhere. I just hope we don’t have to march there lugging that great kitbag full of stuff.’

  ‘It won’t be much of a march as most of us will have to drag it behind us. The bag’s almost as big as Nancy.’

  ‘I’m not going to worry about it now. Everything’s tickety-boo as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe how well we’ve adjusted to all the rules and regulations. I’m rather enjoying being a WAAF, aren’t you, Jane?’

  ‘It’s like being in boarding school only better, as we get paid.’

  ‘I do hope we get posted together, but I doubt it. We’ll stay in touch, won’t we?’

  ‘I think there’s a good chance you and I will remain together but that Nancy and Nora will go in the other group. Haven’t you noticed that the NCOs are segregating us for the different activities? The groups we tend to be in consist of the ones more likely to get the complicated trades,’ Jane said.

  ‘Have you decided what you want to do? I think I’d like to be a wireless or radio operator but I’m not entirely sure what the difference is between them.’

  ‘I think one is to do with listening and using Morse code and the other speaking directly to pilots and so on. However, I’m not really sure.’

  Nora and Nancy had gone to fetch them all some cocoa and overheard the conversation. ‘Me and Nora are going to ask to be in equipment or catering. I reckon that way we’ll be mixing with all sorts.’

  ‘Now we’ve completed our basic training we should get given our trades and then be sent somewhere else for specialised training,’ Jane said.

  ‘I don’t reckon we’ll need much training for what we want to do. It’ll be different for you two.’

  ‘I was saying to Charlotte that we must keep in touch. I’ve got your home address, Nancy, so even if we don’t write to each other after we’re posted, I’ll send the occasional letter there so your mum can let you know where I am.’

  ‘I ain’t too clever at reading, but me ma reads all right. There’s another lot arriving tomorrow so we’ve got to be downstairs ready to leave right after breakfast and that ain’t at the usual time but six o’clock. That’s the middle of the bleedin’ night.’

  ‘Then we’d better get packed as soon as we’ve finished our cocoa.’

  Charlotte was right. It wouldn’t do to be late on their last day here. The NCO had already told them they had to put their dirty sheets in the laundry box and then collect fresh linen and restack the bed ready for the incomers before they departed. This would mean getting up even earlier.

  *

  The lists were up when Jane staggered downstairs bumping her kitbag behind her. She was wearing her greatcoat, groundsheet-cape and tin hat and her gas mask was dangling round her neck. She propped her things against the wall before going in search of the others. Her three friends, who’d got there before her, were studying the lists of names on the noticeboard. They turned and from their expressions it wasn’t good news.

  ‘Not as I thought, Jane – the three of us are going to Ash Vale but you’re going to Pannal Ash.’

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘At least you can stay together. Hopefully, we’ll meet up in town as both places are still in Harrogate.’

  ‘That’s the spirit, Jane. You have to take your kit out and put it in the correct lorry. We march to our new home but those wretched bags will travel in style.’

  Only then she noticed there were only one or two drunken kitbags in the entrance hall. She grabbed hers and dragged it behind her. Two cheerful airmen were waiting outside.

  ‘Pannal Ash or Ash Vale, love?’

  ‘Pannal Ash, please.’

  ‘Give us your cape and tin hat – you don’t want to be wearing those. It’s a three-mile march.’

  All her kit was clearly labelled with her number, as was her kitbag, so she was happy to hand them over.

  They slung her belongings into the designated vehicle. The sky was leaden, the wind bitter, and she shivered. It was only the beginning of November, scarcely winter at all, but it was cold enough for snow today.

  She’d been glad of the distraction as by the time she returned to join her friends she’d regained her composure and was certain they couldn’t possibly see how upset she was about being sent for further training on her own.

  Her appetite had deserted her but the others devoured everything put in front of them with enthusiasm. She settled for a slice of toast and a mug of tea. There was a tub of hot water and a couple of cloths for them to rinse and dry off their irons – this was what their personal set of cutlery and mug was called – they never had to put them away dirty.

  Far too soon the tannoy told them to muster outside. Her friends embraced her, which she found difficult, but she managed to respond with a brief hug
for each. After a final flurry of farewells, she fell into the column of girls who were marching to Pannal Ash.

  Despite the biting wind and small flurries of snow they marched with gusto, three across, arms swinging in unison and not a single person out of step. If it hadn’t been for the constant thump of her gas mask against her side she would have enjoyed being part of the group. She exchanged a raised eyebrow with the girls on either side of her.

  It would have been fun to have marched through the centre of the town but the place they were going was in the opposite direction. There were a few pedestrians who waved and clapped when they went past but most of them kept their heads down and went about their business.

  Three times they were tooted at by passing motorists as they were occupying half the road, but the sergeants leading the cavalcade ignored the cars. Eventually, the cars overtook, their drivers scowling sideways at them.

  There was a war on, surely being a few minutes late for work was less important than allowing them to walk safely to their new posting?

  *

  RAF Catterick

  Flying Officer Oscar Stanton had been a flyer for over a year when war was declared so had been told he was likely to be promoted fairly rapidly as more volunteers joined the ranks. It had taken him a less than the usual year to get his wings – he doubted the new bods would get as long. The Luftwaffe had practised their skills on the poor sods in Spain so the RAF were already at a disadvantage.

  His reverie was interrupted by his closest friend, Roy Cross, also a pilot officer. ‘Just been told we’ve got a twelve-hour pass. We’re going into Harrogate.’ Roy looked expectantly at him.

  ‘What you’re trying to tell me is that you want to go into Harrogate as long as I can drive you. I might as well use the car as long as I can. Petrol will be non-existent for us by the New Year.’

  The Austin Seven was his pride and joy and he would be sorry to put it in mothballs for the duration. Next time he got sufficient leave he would drive it home and leave it in his father’s garage. It should be safe enough there as they were in the wilds of Suffolk and unlikely to be bombed.