by Vicki Beeby
‘Blimey,’ Jess said, taking in the gardens and trees and even a small pool twinkling in the sunlight, ‘you could fit the whole of Poplar in here.’
‘We’re in the building across the lawn,’ Evie said. ‘There’s a canteen up on the third floor in the main house.’
Jess looked back at the house. ‘Looks like it would take most of your break time to get there.’
‘It’s no fun in the dark,’ another girl told her. ‘I’m always terrified I’ll fall in the pond.’
‘I thought we’d be in a bunker.’ Jess wasn’t sure how she felt about working somewhere that seemed unprotected against attack.
‘The Filter Room used to be in a bunker up at Bentley Priory,’ Evie answered. ‘But I hadn’t been there long when it was taken over. We found out later it was used for planning the Normandy landings. We got sent down here to Hill House.’
The guard at the entrance saluted them as they showed their passes. Jess’s nerves returned as she put her pass away and followed Evie inside.
Shoulders back, chin up and smile, she recited in her head. It was one of the first things she had learnt as an actress and was the best way she had discovered to trick herself into feeling confident. She glanced at May and gave an approving nod when she saw her friend correct her own posture and raise her chin. The Christmas they had put on a pantomime felt a lifetime ago, but May had clearly remembered Jess’s lessons.
The other Filterers, Evie included, went through the inner doors into what Jess knew must be the Filter Room. However, the Filter Officer, Flight Officer Laura Morgan, took Jess and May aside. ‘Good. Neither of you look like you’re dying of nerves. While I’ll do what I can to support you, of course, we need Filterers who can work quickly and accurately with the minimum of direction. You might think Rudloe Manor and RAF Watnall were busy, but this is something else again.’ She put a hand on the door then glanced back at the two friends. ‘We stagger the changeover here to minimise disruption.’
Jess nodded. She was used to this from her previous posting.
‘You two will change in last. Take the time to observe the Filterer you’re relieving and familiarise yourself with the tracks and Chain Home stations in your area.’
May and Jess followed Morgan through the doors that led to the Filter Room. Immediately Jess was struck with the hum of noise. She was used to the chatter filling a Filter Room from her other posts – so different from the near silence she had worked in as an Operations Room plotter. The layout of the room was the same as the other Filter Rooms she knew, with the large map table showing the coast, divided into grids with coloured arcs radiating out from each Chain Home station. Above was the balcony occupied by the Controller, the Filter Officer, and the Movements Liaison Officer, who co-ordinated information on the movements of friendly aircraft. The Tellers, who reported the filtered information on to the Operations Room, and the Speed Orderly had their own corners.
By force of habit, Jess glanced at the pulse clock and colour code indicator as she took her place then studied the tracks on display, making note of the times each had been placed. The Filter Plotters were clustered around the table, speaking into their headsets. Each Filter Plotter was connected with one of the Chain Home stations displayed on the map, and communicated with that station’s RDF operator. Whenever they received information of a new track from the RDF Operator, the Filter Plotter would place a counter on the map showing the position, then place numbers showing the range, height and estimated number of aircraft and also whether the track was ‘friend or foe’. Jess, who had done a stint as an RDF operator herself, knew friendly aircraft carried a transponder that caused a ‘double blip’ to appear on the screen. The number of aircraft was estimated from the size of the dip the signal returned on the cathode ray tube the RDF operators viewed. It took skill and experience to estimate these numbers, and it was part of her duties as Filterer Officer to get to know the Chain Home Stations so she could assess the accuracy of their readings.
Of course, different Chain Home stations could receive signals from the same flight, meaning two tracks on the table might represent the same aircraft. It was the Filterer Officer’s job to assess the tracks and decide if they showed the same information. If they did, the Filterer Officer combined them into a single track, placing a ‘halma’ – literally a plastic piece like those used in the game of Halma – for each individual track. She also had to make a judgement on the correct information to give for range, height and number of aircraft. This process was called filtering. It was vital to perform this quickly, as the information could not be passed on to the Operations Room – and thus sent out to the various sector stations around the country – until the information had been filtered.
Jess’s nerves faded as she observed the table. It might be busier here and even more pressured, but she knew her job and she could handle it. She caught May’s eye and saw the same relief in her expression. She gave an encouraging smile.
After that there was no more time to think. Laura Morgan directed her to take her place, relieving the Filterer she’d been observing, and now Jess was in the thick of things. Thankful she’d had the time to get to grips with the situation, she quickly combined a track already on display with information that had been reported by the next RDF station along the chain. It had been identified as a friendly flight – probably a bomber raid returning from a mission. Soon other friendly aircraft were reported following the same course, confirming Jess’s opinion that this was a returning bombing raid. She had tracked many such flights in her time and knew that although the bombers set out en masse, they tended to get spread out on return, depending on how much damage they had sustained during the raid. She knew to keep an especial eye on any stragglers, as they could be severely damaged and in danger of needing to ditch in the sea. If their signal disappeared, the relevant Operations Room would need accurate information of their last known position so help could be sent.
There was one such straggler Jess was concerned about, although it hadn’t appeared from the same direction as the main flight of returning bombers. Instead it had been picked up just off the coast near the border between the Netherlands and Belgium. She was sure it was a single aircraft, and it emitted IFF identification, the signal that it was friendly. It was heading for the coast of East Anglia, but losing height. Jess felt a twinge of anxiety. In all likelihood, the aircraft had sustained damage.
‘Ask Bawdsey for another reading on that track,’ she said to the plotter.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ replied the plotter and spoke to the RDF Operator at Bawdsey over her headset. A moment later she moved the track a little closer to the English coast, but the altitude was another thousand feet lower.
‘It looks like he’s going to end up in the sea,’ Jess said. ‘Tell Bawdsey to keep an eye on it and let us know the instant they lose the signal.’
Although the table was busy, Jess managed to keep an eye on the straggler, knowing quick action could mean the difference between life and death to the pilot. It held out for much longer than she could have expected, making it to within a mile of the Essex coast before the signal was lost. This was the bit Jess hated. She had done her job and knew a rescue launch would even now be setting out towards the last known position of the ditched plane. The trouble was, she would probably never find out if the pilot had made it. Once the information had been sent to the relevant Operations Room, that was the end of her job. Nevertheless, she spared a thought for the unfortunate pilot whenever there was a lull in the action and hoped he had been found alive.
Chapter Three
There was little time to ponder the fate of the ditched pilot, however.
‘Ma’am,’ said one of Jess’s plotters, ‘the RDF operator has reported a Diver.’
There was no time to lose. ‘Diver’ was the code word for a flying bomb, otherwise known to the public as a doodlebug or buzz bomb.
‘Diver, Diver, Diver,’ Jess called, alerting the rest of the Filter Room even as she plac
ed a halma. Seconds later the plotter placed a revised position, enabling Jess to see the course of the flying bomb. If it wasn’t stopped at the coast, it would reach the heart of London.
All the time she was concentrating on the plotting table, she was aware of the Filter Officer watching the action from the balcony, assessing her performance. Working swiftly, she extrapolated the course and read out the co-ordinates of the point where the bomb would cross the coast. Jess knew one of the tellers would get on the line immediately to alert the nearest gunnery positions. The guns had been moved to the coast from London to tackle the flying bombs. Shooting them down over London would be just as dangerous as allowing the bombs to fall, as the flying bombs would explode where they fell. Their best hope was for the flying bombs to be shot down as they crossed the coast. If they got through, their only hope was for fighter aircraft to flip the bomb over so it was diverted out to sea. This was a difficult and dangerous manoeuvre.
Jess, mentally extrapolating the bomb’s course, saw it could strike in the East End. She had a fleeting thought of her Auntie Vera and Hannah before pushing her fears for them to the back of her mind. She could best protect them by doing her job, and that meant not dwelling on her fear but concentrating solely on the tracks.
Even so, her mouth went dry as the track approached the coast and she waited for the plotter’s next update.
‘Still no signal, ma’am,’ the plotter said with a shake of the head when Jess asked. A moment later the Observer Corps reported that the flying bomb had been destroyed.
‘Nice work,’ she said to the plotter.
That was all the celebration she was allowed, for moments later another ‘Diver’ report came through.
* * *
‘That was relentless,’ Jess said to May when A Watch came off duty and walked out into the sunny grounds of Hill House.
May nodded and flopped down onto the grass. ‘I thought the Filter Room at Rudloe Manor was busy, but this was something else.’
When they had arrived that morning, Jess had been too focused on surviving her first day to take much notice of her surroundings, but now she could appreciate the location. ‘I have to say, this makes up for the hard grind,’ she said with a sweeping gesture that took in the gardens, the extensive lawn and lake. ‘It’s even better than High Chalk House.’
She lay back on the grass, allowing the sun to warm the muscles that were stiff from hours of intense concentration.
Footsteps approached, swishing through the grass. They stopped not far from Jess’s head.
‘That’s pretty much how I felt after my first watch,’ said a familiar voice. Jess squinted up at a face framed with red hair that glowed in the sunlight.
‘I ’ope you don’t expect me to salute, cos I’m too tired to budge,’ Jess said to Evie.
Evie chuckled and sank onto the grass between Jess and May. ‘I’ll let you off just this once.’
‘Is it always like this?’ May asked, shifting to give Evie space to lie down.
‘Oh no.’ Evie took off her cap, shook out her hair and lay back with a sigh. ‘Sometimes it’s much busier.’
The three friends lay in companionable silence for a while. Jess gazed up into the sky, empty save for a few high white clouds. It was hard to believe the peaceful sight could be so deceptive, and a flying bomb could be crossing the Channel at this very moment and heading this way. Right now, though, she comforted herself that the only sounds she could hear were the whirr of grasshoppers and the chatter of the other off-duty WAAFs sunning themselves in the grounds.
Finally May broke the silence. ‘How did we do?’ she asked Evie. ‘I have to say, I was so glad it was you keeping an eye on us. Laura Morgan seems nice, too. I would have been far more nervous if there had been an old dragon up on the balcony like the Filter Officer we had at Rudloe Manor.’
‘You both did brilliantly,’ Evie said. ‘And I have to tell you that the old dragon at Rudloe Manor sent a glowing report. Don’t worry. Neither of you would be here unless you’d already shown you worked to a high standard. I knew you’d do well.’ Evie sat up, took off her tunic and brushed the grass from the back. ‘Anyway, we’re not on duty again until tomorrow afternoon. What would you like to do in the morning? I could show you around Stanmore. There are lovely walks around the common.’
May agreed, but Jess shook her head. ‘I’d love to, but you’ll have to take me another time. I need to visit Auntie Vera. I don’t mind telling you the number of flying bombs we picked up were a real eye opener.’
‘Jess,’ Evie said, a note of warning in her voice.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word of what I’ve seen in the Filter Room.’ Jess sat up with a groan and brushed the grass from her own tunic. ‘But the flying bombs are hardly a secret, and I won’t be easy while I know Vera and Hannah are in the firing line. I wish I hadn’t told them it was safe to come back.’
‘Why don’t we come with you?’ Evie said. ‘I know Hannah’s shy, but are we really so terrifying? I’d love to meet her. And your aunt.’
Jess felt her expression freeze. Before she could respond, May chipped in. ‘Me too. We’ll be kind to Hannah. If anyone knows what it’s like to be shy, it’s me.’
Jess wished she hadn’t used Hannah’s timidity as an excuse. ‘I know, but—’
Evie’s eyes narrowed. ‘Unless there’s another reason?’
The warmth seemed to drain from the air, and a ringing in Jess’s ears drowned the birdsong. She looked at Evie in dismay. Had she guessed?
Before Jess could think of a suitable reply, Evie went on, ‘I know what it’s like working with officers who come from rich backgrounds, but this is us, for goodness’ sake. I grew up in Cowley. I’m not going to look down my nose at you just because you come from the East End.’
Summer returned to the garden; the birds’ twittering filled the air. Too overcome with her reprieve, she couldn’t immediately refute Evie’s suspicions, much as it pained her that Evie thought she was ashamed of her background.
‘And my dad and older brother are in prison,’ May said. ‘If anyone’s going to be looked down on, it’ll be me.’
‘You’ll have to find me a chair first,’ Jess said. Giddy with relief, she spoke without thinking. The moment the words were out of her mouth she wished she could take them back, knowing May was sensitive about her height. Her worry about her friends meeting Hannah had got her well and truly rattled. She was always chiding May for talking herself down, so doing it herself was unforgivable. ‘Sorry, May.’ She patted her friend on the arm. ‘I’m just jealous. I’d give anything to be as tall and elegant as you.’
But May was laughing and waved away her apology. It warmed Jess’s heart to see how May’s confidence had grown in the years since they’d first met.
‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’d love you to meet my aunt. I’ve told ’er all about you two. But it’s ages since I last saw ’er, so I’d really like to spend some time with her alone first. Another time, eh?’
As her friends assured her they understood, the knot of tension that had formed in Jess’s stomach unwound. With luck, she’d be able to persuade Vera to return to Wales with Hannah. Vera and Hannah would be safe and there would be no danger of her friends meeting Hannah.
She sprang to her feet. ‘Now, we’ve got a whole evening off. What is there to do around here for a girl to let off steam?’ She linked arms with Evie and May. ‘After a wash and brush-up, the three of us are going to hit the town. You, Evie my girl, are going to show us where the RAF officers are to be found.’
* * *
Jess paused, about to knock on her aunt’s door when high-pitched giggles from the street made her look round. Five children rounded the corner, three girls and two boys, their clothes torn and covered in grime. One girl held something cradled in her hands; the other children clustered around, examining it.
But it was another girl who made Jess’s breath catch in her throat. Her blonde hair had been tied back in pigtail
s but one plait had unravelled and the other seemed to be so covered in dust, it looked more grey than blonde. Although Jess could only see her face in profile, she would have recognised her anywhere. Hannah.
Seeing her evoked a wave of longing that was a physical knot of pain in her stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment, fighting her urge to sweep the little girl into her arms. But their reunion could wait. She needed a serious word with Vera, and it would be easier without Hannah there. She tore away her gaze and rapped on the door.
‘Jess, my girl!’ Jess had hardly stepped through the door into her Auntie Vera’s house when she was engulfed in a lily-of-the-valley scented hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
Jess returned the hug, surprised by the tears that pricked her eyelids. She hadn’t seen Vera since a quick visit to the relative in Welshpool where she and Hannah had moved to escape the Blitz.
Vera stepped back. ‘Now, let me take a look at you. Oh, don’t you look fine in your uniform. Your mother would have been so proud.’
Jess had to take her word for it; she barely remembered her mother who had died of tuberculosis when Jess was only six. Vera and her husband, Jack, had taken her in and lavished so much love on her, Jess had never felt the lack of a mother. Her father had died in a dockyard accident before Jess had been born.
She looked her aunt up and down, reassuring herself she was well. ‘You’re looking good yourself, Auntie.’ Vera’s shiny blonde hair was arranged in perfect victory rolls and her smiling lips were coloured with her favourite deep rose lipstick. It was Vera who had taught Jess to take pride in her appearance. When she and Vera had gone out together before the war, not all the heads that turned were looking at Jess.
‘Come in, come in. I’ll make tea.’ Vera moved towards the kitchen then paused. ‘Hannah’s out playing with her friends but I can call her in.’
