by Julia Kelly
“He’s ruining your complexion, darling. He’d better come out in one of his letters and make you some promises, or you’ll wake up at the end of this war and realize you’ve missed out on all the fun for nothing.”
“Are there any letters tucked in there from Paul?” Liam asked. “Their service numbers would be on the envelopes.”
She shook her head. “It looks like the best she did was transcribe the important ones into her diary. Look.”
He took the diary from her and began to read out.
My darling, you can’t imagine my shock at receiving your letter. I never would’ve thought that you would want to do something as rash as join the services. Of course I’m proud you want to do your bit, but now I’ll be worrying about you while I’m flying missions. At least when you were tucked away in Cornwall, you were safe. I know you hate it, but it’s a luxury for nothing to happen to a place during a war. I wish you’d written to me before deciding to do something quite so impulsive. I’d never have let you waste your time and your pretty face on army work.
Liam snorted. “He’s proud but he thinks her decision to join up is foolish? He’s not the most supportive boyfriend, is he?”
“Later in that entry, she says she told him that if she’d stayed in the house with her mother any longer she would’ve exploded. It sounds like the situation had become toxic.”
Cara fished the locket out of the tin and opened it. “I think this is Paul.”
Liam peered at the two halves of the heart. “Handsome, isn’t he?”
“Her friend Kate told her he looked like Clark Gable.”
“More like Errol Flynn,” he said. “Did you find anything in that tin that looked like it could’ve had a service number on it?”
Cara shoved her long dark hair out of her face and sighed. “No.”
“Well, there are a few things we could try,” Liam said, leaning back in his chair. “We know she was doing her basic training at Leicester at the end of March in 1941. We could try to track her down that way, although a lot of women would’ve passed through there. Then there’s her uniform.” He pointed to a badge on the cap of the woman in the photograph and a white lanyard hanging from her shoulder. “Those should give us some indication of what battalion she was assigned to, but I’m not an expert in twentieth-century military history.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I shouldn’t be asking you to do this. I know the term starts soon and—”
He placed a hand on her forearm. “I’m happy to, Cara. It’ll be fun to research something a little more recent than the reclamation and clearance of monastic lands in the fourteenth century.”
His hand slid away, leaving a prickling heat along her skin.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll photograph the diary so I can read through it too. And I have a colleague who might be able to help us. This is his area of study, so I’m sure he’ll be able to get more from the uniform faster. The Leicester barracks too.”
He stayed long enough to do just that, snapping photos on his iPhone. He chatted easily as he moved methodically, telling her more about his new position and what he was teaching that year. When he was finished, he straightened from the table.
“Thank you for dinner,” he said. “I should go let Rufus out.”
“How is he?”
“More trouble than he’s worth. I’ll tell him you said hello.”
“Bring him next time.” She hesitated, waiting for awkwardness to freeze her. After all, she’d just invited him again, as though it was no big deal, and this time she had no Nicole to blame. But the more she thought about it, the more the invitation felt right.
If Liam read anything into her moment’s hesitation, however, he hid it well, only tilting his head to one side a bit and saying, “I’d like that.”
At the door, she watched him walk down the garden path. Reaching the gate, he turned and called out a goodbye. She smiled—maybe a little too wide—and shut the door as soon as he was on the sidewalk.
Inside, she swept up her phone from the hallway table. Nicole had texted two hours ago.
How did it go?
She stared at the screen for a moment before slipping it back into her bag and going off to change for bed.
3 April 1941
A letter from Paul today and a gift. He sent me a locket with a photograph of him, tall and handsome in his pilot’s garb. I almost cried when I put it on.
And the letter! It’s so sweet I’ll copy it out because I want to be sure that nothing happens to it. A girl from the D barracks next door told me that one of Judith Doughtery’s bunkmates stole all her fiancé’s letters off the shelf above Judith’s bunk and read the racier bits aloud to the other girls. I hope no one in C barracks would be so cruel.
30 March 1941
My darling,
I hope that this letter will arrive before your examination. I have no doubt that you will pass, especially if it is, as you say, mainly a test of maths and intelligence. Haven’t you told me before how easily the subject came to you in school and how you wish that you might’ve studied at university if your parents had agreed?
I, for one, am happy that they didn’t, otherwise I might not have met you. I remember so clearly thinking what a bore that night was, the same sort of dance I’d been to a thousand times, until you walked up on Taylor’s arm. You were the prettiest girl I’d seen in Cornwall, with your curling hair and your red dress, looking so innocent and fresh. I knew I had to dance with you even if I was nowhere near a good enough man for you.
I hope to dance with you again soon, darling. Maybe in London, where the bands seem to play on in the underground nightclubs even as the Luftwaffe bombs the city. I will do everything I can to secure leave when you finally find out where you’re stationed so I can see you, but I will warn you that my group captain is a tough man. He’s not sentimental about things like sweethearts, and he flouts all the RAF’s rules about required leave. All I want is twenty-four more hours with you. Just promise me you won’t volunteer for a posting on the army’s switchboards in Cairo or some other far-flung place. I don’t know that I could stand knowing you were so far away.
I’m sending with this letter a locket. Inside is a photograph of my ugly mug. The other side is blank. I thought you might fill it with a photograph of your parents, or the next time I see you, we’ll take a picture together and you can wear that too. It isn’t much, but it will give me hope knowing that I’m close to your heart always.
Yours ever faithfully,
Paul
Every time the post comes and there’s a letter from him, I feel a little more sure of myself. Paul helped me find the strength to finally break away from home. I know he worries about me, but I really do feel that he’s proud. If only I can pass the examination and find out where I’ll be stationed, we can plan to see one another again.
9
LOUISE
Louise was lying on her bed listening to Doreen read out from one of the cheap novels her sister had sent, when Margaret, one of her bunkmates, came racing into the dormitory.
“What is it?” Louise asked, bolting up.
Margaret braced herself against the door frame, her round cheeks bright pink and her breath puffing. “The examination results are in. We have five minutes to assemble.”
All at once, the five girls of C barracks who had been relaxing scrambled down from their bunks. Louise jammed on the stiff leather ATS-issued shoes that had torn her feet so badly in the first week until calluses had hardened on the backs of her heels. Sarah, a shy Welsh girl who had the bunk underneath her, hopped on one foot as she struggled to pull her stockings on. Louise put a hand out to steady her, and Sarah smiled softly up at her as she hooked a stocking onto her suspender belt.
“I’m so nervous. I can’t be a cook. That’s just the same as what I did at home in Aberystwyth,” said Sarah.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” said Louise, also sending up a little prayer that she wasn’t assigned to a cant
een, doomed to peel hundreds of pounds of potatoes or scrub pots day after day. Paul had warned her that noncommissioned men in the forces didn’t get a say in their assignments, and that she shouldn’t expect to either. Still, she hoped her job would be more glamorous than helping the army win battles through its stomach.
The girls hurried into the yard where they drilled every morning. Their excitement made the air crackle with energy, propelling them forward with equal parts eagerness and trepidation. From across the hard-packed dirt, she spotted a flash of blond hair and saw her cousin turn to speak to another girl.
“Excuse me.” Louise put her shoulder between the two women in front of her and pushed through the crowd.
“Kate,” she said, catching her cousin’s sleeve.
“Louise!” Kate cried, throwing her arms around her. “Darling, aren’t you just a bundle of nerves? I’m so worried, although I’m certain you’re bound to get something good like accounts. I’ve heard you can rise up the ranks fast there.”
“What assignment do you want?” Louise asked, linking arms with her cousin, knowing the likelihood they would be separated was great. Even though Kate was housed in H barracks, it was a comfort to know she was near. But now they could be sent anywhere the army was stationed, keeping in touch only by letter.
“I’ll be on the telephones, I should think,” said Kate. “My typing isn’t nearly good enough for me to be a clerk, and I don’t have any experience driving, although I think it would be heavenly to learn.”
Louise didn’t think driving a heavy truck down cratered roads or through the debris of a London air raid sounded heavenly at all, but she wasn’t going to argue. Besides, all life was dangerous in Britain now. Haybourne hadn’t seen bombing as heavy as that in the East London docks or the single night of devastation that had set Coventry ablaze last autumn, but air raids happened everywhere. German bombs killed civilians and service members alike without prejudice. Chance and fate were coconspirators in this war.
As they shuffled into the hall where they’d taken their examinations, the women began to fall in line by their barracks, just as they’d been taught. Louise hugged Kate’s arm to her. “Good luck, and stay safe.”
Kate dipped her head, their caps just touching. “You too. You can’t let anything happen to you, because you’re going to be the bridesmaid in my wedding.”
Louise pulled back. “To whom?”
Kate grinned. “Oh, some handsome officer or another, I suspect. I’ll write and let you know when I’ve decided which one.”
With a laugh, Louise kissed her cousin on the cheek and hurried to join C barracks.
Corporal Clovis, who, with her commanding voice, ran them through their drills every day, stood on a small stage at the front of the room, a clipboard in her hand. She slid a pair of spectacles on and peered up over them at the assembled women.
“As you all know, you took your examinations last week. The results have been considered, and you’ve been assigned your units accordingly. I will remind you that although you might have volunteered to join the ATS, these assignments themselves are not voluntary. You will not be able to argue or persuade me to change them. If you’re lucky, after some months, you may be able to apply for a transfer if you can show reason why your skills would be more valuable in another unit.”
Two women ahead of Louise, Sarah shifted from foot to foot.
“I’ll start with the A barracks,” said Corporal Clovis in her dry tone. “Calvi, accounts. Dardenne, cook.”
There was an audible groan, and Corporal Clovis stopped. “Do you have something to say, Volunteer Dardenne?”
The woman straightened. “No, ma’am.”
Corporal Clovis’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what I thought. Harrow, telephonist.”
There were no more outbursts as the corporal made her way through A and B barracks, but the sinking shoulders or broad smiles broadcast how each woman felt about her assignment.
“Now for C barracks,” droned Corporal Clovis.
Louise wiped the palms of her hands on her tunic.
“Arden, ammunition inspection,” Corporal Clovis called. “Egerton, postal services. Hughes . . .”
Sarah’s shoulders were nearly around her ears.
“Cook.” Corporal Clovis stopped and adjusted her spectacles. “No, sorry. Hughes, driver. James, cook.”
A little smile touched Louise’s lips. So shy little Sarah would be the one careening around behind the wheel of an army vehicle. It was the furthest from cookery that her friend could’ve gotten.
“Kane, ammunition inspection. Keene . . .”
Louise squeezed her eyes shut. All she wanted was something that would make her feel as though all of the cold mornings spent shivering in the yard and hours studying had been worth it.
“Ladies, congratulate Volunteer Keene. She, along with a few others, has received a special assignment. Report to me after this assembly to receive more information about your duties, Keene.”
Louise’s eyes snapped open as a murmur went through the crowd. No one had said anything about a special assignment.
“Quiet,” barked Corporal Clovis. Silence fell over the women immediately, and the corporal began calling out names again.
Louise could feel everyone looking at her, and although she’d done nothing wrong, shame rushed up in her. Why had she been singled out? What had she done?
She barely heard when Kate was assigned telephonist, just as her cousin had predicted.
By the end of the assembly, five other women had been called for special assignment. Louise tried to sneak glances at her fellow singled-out sisters, but she couldn’t make them out through the rows of women.
“You can expect to receive your orders soon. Some of you will even be leaving today. I advise you to keep your kit in good order, as you never know how long you’ll have to pack.” Corporal Clovis paused. “Those of you who received special assignment, stay here. The rest of you are dismissed to your duties.”
Pauline Norman, who stood behind Louise, tapped her on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Louise offered her a little smile as lines of women began to march out in orderly fashion.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” said Harriet Kane. “You’re probably going to do something terribly daring and that’s why they can’t tell the rest of us. Maybe you’ll be trained to be a spy!”
“C barracks!” Corporal Clovis barked.
Louise’s friends fell into line, their lips clamping shut, and filed out. Louise looked around the nearly empty assembly room, and the five other women were all standing where their barracks had left them. One she recognized as a Geordie girl named Lizzie who sometimes would sing war songs in the canteen if the soldiers on base asked her enough times, but the rest she didn’t know. Most of them looked perturbed and a little nervous, except for one woman with fiery red hair who openly wore her excitement.
A metal door at the back of the hall was pulled open, and a tall man in a stiff peaked cap marched to join Corporal Clovis.
“Are these them?” he asked.
Corporal Clovis nodded and handed him the clipboard. “All six of them, sir.”
“Ladies, I’m Brigadier Melchen and I have the privilege of overseeing one of the Royal Artillery’s great experiments during this war.” The way he said “privilege” made Louise suspicious of just how much of an honor he really considered it. “General Sir Frederick Pile has gotten his way, and moving forward we are to have mixed anti-aircraft batteries trained and in operation by the end of the summer. Naturally, women won’t be permitted to fire. That will be done by a male gunner. But you will be trained in every other aspect of operating the sophisticated machinery of an anti-aircraft gun. Do you have any questions?”
The redhead stuck her hand up.
“Of course you do,” Brigadier Melchen muttered to himself. “You there. What’s your name?”
“Volunteer Charlotte Wilkes, sir,” said the woman with a crisp salute.
&nb
sp; Melchen huffed. “Given that you’ll be in a mixed battery, you will assume the ranks of the RA. Your rank going forward will be gunner.”
“Then I’m Gunner Charlotte Wilkes, sir.”
“Yes, yes. Go on,” he said.
“What exactly do you mean when you say ‘mixed anti-aircraft batteries’?”
Melchen sighed. “A battery of six women and one bombardier will operate various instruments that will allow a gunner—a man—to shoot Nazis out of the sky. You will also have two men to load the ammunition and maintain the gun. Is that clear enough for you?”
“Crystal, sir,” said Gunner Charlotte Wilkes with a smile.
Louise and the other girls all looked around. Anti-aircraft? That hadn’t been one of the assignments they’d been told about.
“Any more questions?” Melchen asked.
“Yes, sir, if I might?” asked a beautiful brunette who’d been with E barracks.
“Name?”
“Gunner Vera Garson.”
He squinted at her. “Any relation to Major General Garson?”
“Yes, sir. He’s my uncle.”
Melchen straightened his shoulders noticeably. “Go on, Gunner Garson.”
“Why us?”
“Your examination results identified you as some of the brightest in the ATS. You’ll go to Oswestry for additional training to hone your natural aptitude.
“Don’t think that this will be easy. You’ll be asked to do more than any other woman in the ATS. The work will be hard and the hours will be long. It’s a dangerous job because you’ll be trying to shoot down the very planes that are shooting at you. Anyone who isn’t willing to take that risk should say so now, and Corporal Clovis will see to it that you’re reassigned.”
The room fell silent, each of the women refusing to flinch. It would be dangerous, yes, but what they would do would matter. They wouldn’t just be support staff, confined to the administrative side of bases. They would be helping shoot down Luftwaffe planes and keeping the people of Britain safe. They would be helping keep pilots like Paul safe.
