How Britain Kept Calm and Carried On (28 page)

My blood was always at boiling point after being called many unpleasant names if we did anything wrong on parade. With all this arm stretching, I thought mine would leave their sockets, and I
discovered many muscles that I had never used before.

When the sergeant told us we were the ‘doziest lot he had ever met’, we became determined to show him. Muttering our hatred of him, we marched like dedicated soldiers kicking hell
out of the tarmac as we gritted our teeth. We were entirely unused to this sort of thing. The only walking I had done lately was between stove and table, and I ached in every bone in my body. All
visions of faraway places died, because I felt sure that if I ever left those barracks alive, it would only be as a permanent invalid. Somehow I survived and left the world of marching and
exercise, and pressing uniforms and cleaning shows and lectures on VD and how not to become pregnant, a much fitter person with a few pounds off my rump.

I was now a Lieutenant Corporal and I found out later why it was necessary for all that exercise. To give us muscles to carry our kit and strength to ward off all those wrestlers among the
soldiers we would meet while earning our ‘defence’ medal.

Gwyneth Wright, London

Several refugees from the Bath blitz were staying at a Somerset farm near Burnham-on-Sea, where I spent several wartime breaks. It seemed the ladies of Bath had the idea that
the wearing of corsets would somehow help protect them against the blasts.

The farmer had three spinster sisters-in-law who had moved in with them for the duration. One day, with the bathroom door half open, he was heard to pray for God to ‘give him patience with
his lot’.

One of the Bath refugees died while staying there. Petrol restrictions made funerals difficult, especially when the nearest crematorium was not nearby. All that was permitted was one hearse.
Mourners were expected to travel by train. The farmer said that if the relatives of the lady wouldn’t mind his coming with them – he needn’t attend the service if they preferred
– the necessary petrol coupons would be available, since he had to be back for milking.

Leila Mackinlay, London

Some of the other bus conductresses used to wait for me to come in, so I could relate some of my experiences. We did have some fun! I once had to appear at Derby Assizes when a
lunatic hit me at New Mills. He was what they called a ‘moon maniac’. His wife, poor dear, waited for me because she wanted to apologize for him. It appears he had trouble that day with
the police and they were looking for him when he attacked me. His wife had just had her eighth child, and was only thirty-four. He went home at dinner time and asked her to go to bed with him. She
refused, saying she wasn’t fit. So he chased her out of the house with an axe. He gave the police a letter that read: ‘I hereby state, that tonight I will murder my wife and eight
children.’ The envelope was addressed: ‘To anyone, anywhere.’

Mrs Z. Price, Withington

During the war, the Venerable Archdeacon of Gibraltar used to stay at the farm with his wife. He had an old-fashioned ear trumpet, which my friend and I found extremely amusing.
He felt anxious to help and, as conversing was a bit dicey, he liked to pour out the tea or coffee at breakfast. Alas, he was apt to mix them up somewhat, so we used to rush down to avoid
‘Te-offee’, as we coined it. He loved painting and, without his ear trumpet, would station himself in the road sketching. Looking over his shoulder at one particular sketch, my friend
said: ‘But there aren’t any apples on that tree!’

A little reproachfully he replied: ‘No, I like them there!’

Leila Mackinlay, London

For seven years I was a nurse on an ambulance – and many times during the war I had to be its driver, too. At night I used an American ambulance because I was in with the
patient and, if I was alone, I could still drive and keep my eye on them.

Once, after taking a casualty from Hurn Aerodrome to a London hospital, and having done a twenty-four-hour stint, I stopped on the Hog’s Back near Guildford for a short sleep before
continuing south to my base. When I awoke, a convoy of Americans was passing, going on to embark at Southampton. I tagged on the end of this convoy and, a few miles further on, they stopped for
refreshments. Of course, I stopped too. An orderly came up to me and said: ‘I’m bringing your coffee and sandwiches, sister.’

I realized that they thought that, being in an American ambulance, I was part of their convoy. I was desperately hungry and scoffed up the coffee and eats before they realized that I
wasn’t with them. When they moved off, I again tagged on until we came to the crossroads where the convoy went on to the docks and I turned right for home. I’ve often wondered since if,
once they got to Southampton docks, they thought they’d lost an ambulance.

Irene Stevenson, Christchurch, Dorset

I was in the ATS during the war and one Christmas was determined to go home. As all travel for us was cancelled, I had civvies sent from home. They included a two-piece suit
comprising a skirt and a jacket. The skirt was much too big but, as it was Hobson’s Choice, on it went. On the train journey home I was in a compartment with naval personnel and civilians,
all of whom were teasing me, saying that surely I must be in the forces, a girl my age, etc. . . . I kept denying it until the train drew into my station, whereupon I jumped up – and down
fell my skirt to reveal a pair of khaki knickers! It was with much laughter – and my blushes – that I hurriedly hauled the skirt up again and made my escape.

Joyce McDiarmid, Kirkintilloch

During one stay on the farm I had a young singer friend (later with ENSA) stay with me, and the farmer and his wife, who were keen Methodists, asked whether she might sing for
them in chapel. She had to borrow both stockings and hat to make her appearance, where she planned to sing ‘Ave Maria’ and ‘Oh, For The Wings Of A Dove’. Doubting my ability
to keep a straight face during her recital, I absented myself. As I stood to one side I heard the poor organ boy almost forget to work the bellows, in his wonderment at this glamorous creature.

Leila Mackinlay, London

An ATS driver was ordered to drive an army VIP from Caterham to Aldershot. There was no time for anything but to get going but, about halfway, she spotted a ladies’
lavatory and asked if she could take a very short break. The VIP said: ‘Yes, I don’t mind waiting a minute.’

While she was gone, the VIP thought that he might as well also take the opportunity and went to the gents. The driver came back, jumped in the car, and sped on to Aldershot. When she arrived,
she opened the passenger door – and there was no VIP. She had left her vital cargo marooned outside a gentlemen’s lavatory miles away.

Anonymous, relating a story told to them by an army chaplin