by Vicky Unwin
… I had a letter from Rosemary the other day, but haven’t had a moment to answer it yet. Yours was the only letter I’ve been able to write this week.
It’s thawed terribly here and everywhere’s in a terrible mess. We’ve had 2 raid warnings during the last 2 days and we’ve all got to pass through the gas chamber and wear our gas masks for 1/2 hour every day! Heavens!
Please send me my nail brush! I’m lost without it.
Heavens – nearly tea time!
Heaps of love to you both.
Sheila
Meanwhile life in Dundee continues, despite reminders of the war from the air raids: Wrens’ Club, hair, shoes, uniform, work, hopes of weekends away to alleviate the routine and, of course, grumbles about commissions and some good middle-class sanctimony:
Mayfield
28.1.41
My dear Mummy –
There’s really not much news, but I’m just writing to thank you for your letter which on rereading, I have just been able to decipher!
I think I’ll start by telling you that it is frightfully cold and does nothing but sleet the whole time. My shoes are damned uncomfortable (I’ve had to put plasters on my heels) and they squeak.
I’ve written to Roddy asking if I may go there this weekend, but of course haven’t heard yet. I hope she will be able to have me. I shan’t be able to go down till Saturday afternoon, but may be able to stay till Monday morning.
I went to a marvellous Naval talk on the war on Sunday night. I very much enjoyed it and met dear old Lieut. Osborne as I was coming out. We always seem to be bumping into one another. There has been a hell of a row over that girl who got tight, but I believe she’s not going to be derated. They certainly don’t do it to the ratings, but anyway I think it was horrid of her. Apparently most of the stewards here get as drunk as lords. Isn’t it filthy?
… I still have great difficulty putting on my collar and tie. I always seem to get it bent somehow. There’s going to be a parade through the streets on Saturday in connection with War Weapons Week, and they want some Wrens to be there, but thank heavens I’ll be away, anyway I hope so!
I even wore lisle stockings yesterday! They didn’t look too bad. It’s just heaven to get into comfy shoes at the end of the day tho’.
Apparently there is a new rule that Wrens may be promoted at 20 1/2, only providing they’ve been in service over a year, so that doesn’t include me – I’ll be 21 first …
Well I must stop, as it’s nearly time to go off again. To hell with this wet – you should see the mud!
Heaps of love to you and Daddy
Sheila
Sheila’s sprits are raised by hopes of being billeted out and a visit to stay with Roddy, her grand friend who is living in a house in Dundas Castle grounds. Jaap comes back from patrol, and ‘unfortunately I have no late pass and have to go out in uniform which he hasn’t seen yet, so it will be a bit of a shock’. Mother is still coming up trumps on the parcel front:
Mayfield
3.2.41
My dear Mama,
Thank you so much for your letter and parcel with the shoes, stamps, nail brush etc. The shoes have been much admired and needless to say the stamps are marvellous.
Oh I’ve had such a good weekend. I went down to Dalmeny on Sat afternoon and Roddy met me plus bikes. It poured with snow tho’. Chapel Acre is really lovely. On the side of a hill looking towards the Firth and all country around. It’s most beautiful and Roddy and I shared her room together. She’s just the same; great fun. We went for a heavenly walk in the sun on Sunday and found a large loch completely covered with ice. So after lunch we went off skating and had a marvellous time. We had it all to ourselves too which was lovely. I got quite brave and went backward and did all kinds of tricks but not as well as Roddy who is very good. I am going away there in a fortnight’s time.
I rang up Mrs Mackey re today and I am going there very soon I think. She seems a dear and I think I shall like it very much.
… A 14 shirt neck with 14 1/2 collar would be big enough I think. Can you get that do you think? I hope so. I really don’t think 13 1/2 shirt would be big enough, tho’ it might if it didn’t shrink. I rather think it might, though.
… The choccies were lovely by the way – where did you get them? Please don’t send me any more. We have a canteen remember.
How are you and Daddy? Well I hope. We’ve had a lot more snow – I’m off to the Naval dentist on Friday. I hear he’s quite gentle! Hope so.
Really must stop and get ready to go out …
With heaps of love
Sheila
The might of the German invasion in North Africa was just beginning to alarm the British and, combined with the continuing air raids, it is not surprising everyone has ‘the wind up’. Nevertheless the mundane still manages to dominate the letters, mainly because it was impossible to mention details of the work she was doing, except that there’s a lot of it:
Mayfield
9.2.41
My dear Mummy
Thank you so much for your letter with the stamps and also the £1 from Daddy with which I was very pleased – Do thank him for me. I also have had the shirt which really is half a size too small so I am going to change it here. Otherwise it is very nice. All my Wren ones have shrunk – most annoying! Did I even thank you for the gloves? They are really awfully nice and I have worn them once.
As you see I haven’t moved yet and I don’t know when I shall. I must really make them decide soon. Actually I think everyone here, too, has the wind up for we have all been through the gas chamber and are having to put fire spotters on the roof in four shifts every night now. But of course that is all under your hat.
I’m rather fed up really because I’ve been working like a black this week.2 I’ve had to attend 2 courts of enquiry and make verbatim reports of each as well as do my ordinary work. Also I had to work yesterday afternoon and this morning and it’s such a lovely day. However, I get paid for the reports at the rate of 6d per 100 words so I shouldn’t do too badly as they were really quite long and took the whole day to do.
I went out with Jaap again on Thursday, but he had a dreadful cold and I was terribly tired after a very busy day, so we didn’t go skating as planned. He has gone off skiing this weekend, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t get any as all the snow has melted again thank heavens. It was terribly thick on Thursday, nearly a foot I should think.
I had a letter from Joy who is still at Greenwich just about to begin her W/J course. I do wish she was still up here – I miss one good friend very much. Actually Chapman has been all over me these last few days. I’m certainly wondering why but she really has been awfully nice.
Oh – (blast – sirens!!!) we had a kit inspection on Thursday and I was told I had many too many civilian clothes – so I shall have to send some home unless of course I move to the Bishop’s tomorrow.
I do wish they would tell me because I don’t want to send my things home and then have them back again.
Well I must stop. I’ve got so many letters to write. Somehow I never seem to get them done these days.
Heaps of love
Sheila
Sheila is never downhearted for long: the men in her life provide good cheer. There is news of Paul, who has been on HMS Sheffield, which had been on convoy with the Ark Royal in the Mediterranean, and Jaap meanwhile provides great company. She even manages to make light of some of the other realities of wartime.
Mayfield
12.2.41
My dear Mummy,
… Well they say you have to experience everything in life once, and I certainly had the shock of my life on Monday, when I saw a creepy-crawly running (or malingering) up my skirt. So away I dashed and washed my hair and clothes – and bolted for sister who examined my head and found nought! However, I caught three more in my clothes and were told they were ‘body lice’ (!!) so we ‘Dettolled’ the room thoroughly (I put all my washed wet clothes and my costume, out
on the window coping all night and the dye came out of my stockings on to my shirt and collar and made one hell of a mess) and retired. I had to get up at 1am to do two hours fire spotting. Oh dear it was a game, and we’ve had the room fumigated and scrubbed out with disinfectant – it’s never been so clean since we came here!
Apparently Dundee is alive with such things and you can pick them up in buses or anywhere and they say they always go to the cleanest people! So one up to me! However I’ve treated it as a tremendous joke and am none the worse for my unfortunate adventure.
Anyway, it meant that I was able to go about in civvies all day yesterday. I met Jaap in the morning and he was very intrigued, so I told him the story at length and he said ‘we must go out tonight as you’re in civvies’ so out we went – and had a terrific time. He is a dear. This afternoon he came to bid me farewell in my office as he’s off again, and I watched them sail out later on. Miss Overy has been at Rosyth all day. Provided I appeal to the board of examiners I shall definitely get a commission at 21, unless of course I disgrace myself in the meantime. She asked me whether I’d rather be a cypherer or a secretary when commissioned. I said the former, I never liked secretarial work very much – it’s such a long time to wait though – nearly seven months.
Isn’t it thrilling about the ‘Sheffield’?3 Perhaps it’ll mean Paul will be back soon after such a marvellous performance. They’ve been abroad for five months – I’m sure they ought to come back for boiler cleaning or something quite soon! The wireless account at midday was terrific. Did you hear it?
I’ve just been issued with a greatcoat which is terribly nice and I feel most smart. I’ve only got to adjust the belt at the back and it will be a perfect fit. I changed the shirt at M&S for a 14 1/2 which is very nice; they tend to shrink and I loathe them tight.
Tomorrow I’ve got to attend another board of enquiry – rather a special one, as I’ve got to be there 1/2 hr early to see one of the officers, and they took my full name for some unknown reason. Miss Overy doesn’t know about it yet; she will be furious – but I’ve got a lot of my tomorrow work done. So she can’t really grumble.
With lots and lots of love to you both.
Sheila
Life in the Wrens is one long rollercoaster: now everything is falling apart. She isn’t being billeted and Jaap is leaving ‘going somewhere very secret so must say no more, only how disappointed and sorry I am that he is going as we did have such fun together and things will be very boring for me after next week.’ They are trying to arrange a final evening before he goes, ‘but he has so many farewells to bid that we may not be able’.
However, she has heard that Wrens are being called up for ‘services overseas’. She asks her mother what she thinks: ‘I’d very much like to go ... it would be marvellous to feel one was really doing something.’ She feels her work ‘isn’t so terribly important. Of course it might mean foregoing a commission (if I ever do get one) but I feel the experience would be wonderful.’ She must have felt pretty desperate to consider giving up a commission for going overseas.
She gives vent to her frustration in her next letter:
I am very annoyed. Here I am slaving (!) for my country miles from anywhere and nobody writes to me! I’ve just been haranguing the postman but with no results I’m afraid – I haven’t had a letter since Tuesday. That’s very unusual for me and your last was written six days ago. VERY cross!
In a later letter she writes:
I don’t think your homily to the family did the slightest bit of good – I’ve not heard from one of them, and really, with the little time I get, I don’t feel like starting writing to them all over again, except of course, Granny, who has tons of people to write to. But Aunty Rose and Hazel etc. I don’t think deserve letters as they never write to me, and Aunty Rose never even answered my last letter, written nearly two months ago! Perhaps I’ll send them all Easter cards, just to remind them. Perhaps when you go down south you could enquire into the subject.
In wartime, far from your home and family, letters must have been of paramount importance: those she is complaining about were all civilians, although cousin Hazel was recently married to a naval officer, and obviously were not aware of how the sending and receiving of letters could have such an impact on morale. This whole collection of Sheila’s letters to and from her mother demonstrate this; even her crabby mother understood the need to support her daughter in this way.
Her gloom continues with Jaap’s departure: ‘Jaap has gone … he went on Sunday and strange to relate I never saw him to speak to again. Well, we always said the Dutch were funny – I really believe they are!!’
Rosemary is an easy target for her ire. She feels she should go to the Admiralty or air ministry and ‘sound them out about commissions. It’s no good waiting until the time comes – there wouldn’t be an earthly then.’ Later she has a further swipe at her sister:
I had a letter from Rosemary too, yesterday, telling me about her rise. I have been working things out, she says she gets £3.10.0 a week sheer profit, with upkeep and insurance and income tax paid, I suppose. I get £3.10.0 a month. Still, you know, I manage very well really – I just can’t imagine what I’d do with all that wealth. It would be fabulous ... I wish Rosemary would join up – I wrote and told her she ought and she replied that tho’ she quite saw my point of view (I told her Rome burned while Nero played the fiddle) B+H [Bourne & Hollingsworth] couldn’t possibly get on without her. I do feel that an older person could easily do the job and it’s not essential to the nation’s war effort anyway.
It is not surprising that Rosemary did not want to join up, seeing how well off she was compared to a services salary.
Sadly the call to go overseas does not materialise:
Nothing has come of that Near East rumour. I don’t feel an awful lot of use here (tho’ they couldn’t do without me!) so am wondering if I should ask for a transfer. Might get sent somewhere miles worse tho’! This would be a marvellous place if I had lots of friends.
However, Sheila and Chapman seem to having fun. She ‘dressed’ her for a date with a Dutchman, and they went to supper ‘and had a good chinwag. She is being nice to me – heaven knows, one needs a few pals these days!’ Some people called the Mackenzies have invited her to tea and promise to introduce her to some more people –‘so it should be much better’.
Never one to be downhearted for long, in the same letter (26 February) she writes:
Oh we had such fun yesterday. We went down in the gunnery store and are being taught rifle shooting. Strange to relate, I was very good and got 16 out of 17 rounds on the card with 6 rolls! So you’d best beware not to displease me! We are going every week and hope to get good. Unfortunately the range is very small, only 20 yards so you really can’t help getting them on the card (!) but no one else was at all good. Cockadoodledoo!
Work, however, still has to be done:
I am having a very busy time what with one thing and another, but I’m not terribly fond of my type of work, forever running after people. Tho’ I like being in Dundee. But it’s no good asking for another job in Dundee – I’d never get it and it would put the old girl’s [Overy] back up. So must just wait.
She is – justifiably perhaps – a little miffed when a long-planned weekend away in Perth is cancelled at the last minute:
Mayfield
2.3.41
My dear Mama –
I had arranged to go away for the weekend with another girl to Perth. A message came through from Commander Stack saying I had to attend a confidential enquiry on Saturday am and take shorthand notes. He loathes Miss Overy and would do anything to get a rise out of her. So I had to go and he said it would all be over by 12 am [presumably she means pm]. However, it wasn’t. I spent all Saturday afternoon working and have had to come in this morning (Sunday) and this afternoon to get it all done – so of course I couldn’t go to Perth! Everyone has been very nice about it so I feel quite a martyr, especially as the 2 writers in the
secretary’s office have had very little to do and have only been on one at a time the whole weekend! Com. Stack of course, just daren’t look my way, he knows I’m furious and that it’s his fault. Miss Overy says I can have next weekend off, though as she’s got to be here, Miss Penman is away, and Overy is living in, much to our horror.
… Help, I must get a move on as it’s nearly 2 o’clock and I’ve got to rush back to do that report. I expect I’ll be about the only person working in the whole orphanage. Me thinks I deserve an extra stripe for this! But I won’t get it. I was rushing round in Chapman’s coat last night and everyone thought I was a C.D.O. [Command Duty Officer] No such luck!
