A SPECIAL OPERATOR`S STORY December 1941

A SPECIAL OPERATOR’S STORY
December 1941 - February 1946
In describing the events of these years I am, for the most part relying on
memories, which can be deceptive, talks with former ATS friends at
reunions, and for the technical side, talks given at the 1994 Enigma
Symposium.
I think this memoir is a fair account of my own experiences and
probably those of the other ATS with whom I lived, worked and laughed
in those five eventful years.
Gwendoline Gibbs (Cpl Sidwell, ATS Royal Signals)
A Special Operator’s Story
Chapter 1
York – Basic Training, December 1941 – January 1942
Chapter 2
Trowbridge – Special Operators Training Battalion, January – June
1942
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Chapter 3
Beaumanor – No 1 ATS Y Wing, June 1942 – May 1944
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Chapter 4
Garats Hay – No 2 ATS Y Wing, May 1944 – June 1945
43
Chapter 5
Kedleston Hall – No 7 ATS Y Wing, June – August 1945
55
Chapter 6
Garats Hay – No 3 ATS Y Wing – September 1945 – February 1946 57
Chapter 7
Some extracts from staff magazines
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2
Chapter 1
York – Basic Training, December 1941 – January 1942
At 1.30 pm on Saturday 16 December 1941, I went to the recruiting offices of the
Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS) in Grosvenor Square. On being given a form to
complete with all my personal details, I discovered that the official age for joining
was 18, but having come this far I wasn't going to wait a further two months, so
wrote 1923 as year of birth, hoping they didn't want to see my birth certificate. They
didn't, nobody questioned me and after a quick but comprehensive medical - to
check that I wasn't blind, deaf or dumb- I signed up for the duration of hostilities. In
the 'In which category do you want to serve' space I put Anti-Aircraft Battery. I
thought it might be exciting, already visualising myself on Clapham Common with my
tin hat! The recruiting officer told me I would receive my calling up papers in about a
week, so I toddled off home to break the news to my Mother.
As the enlistment and journey had taken just over two hours I didn't get home until
nearly five, much to mum's annoyance, as the meal had been spoiled. When I
explained where I'd been, she said she didn't mind but my father would be definitely
against it.
I wrote and told him what I had done and he wasn't at all pleased - he'd had some
ATS in his outfit and wasn't impressed by them. He didn’t object to my joining up,
but why hadn't I chosen the WAAFs or Wrens? He did see my point when I replied
that having been connected to the Army for most of my life, with a Grandfather,
father and uncle serving in the Buffs and my mother and I both being born in the
regiment; it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do.
A few days later a letter arrived informing me that I would be going to No 2 ATS
Training Centre at York Barracks and enclosing a Railway Warrant for the 0930 train
from King’s Cross-to York on 29 December. I should take the minimum belongings,
including toilet articles, but no civilian clothes, other than those I would be wearing
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and there would be transport at York Station. I think I had mixed feelings, part
excitement, and part wondering what I had let myself in for. I had never been on a
train by myself before and here I was, preparing to go to the North of England which could have been Outer Siberia as far as distances were concerned. I assumed
that by civilian clothes the Army meant dress and coat, so as well as the toilet things
and two towels, I packed two night-dresses, three bras, several pairs of knickers, two
suspender belts and some stockings. Should I take some books? I had a few of my
own, mostly Penguins, and in the end settled for an anthology of poetry, a book on
ballet and Axel Munthe's Story of San Michele - very intellectual!
Mum came with me to King’s Cross and bade me a tearful farewell; convinced that
I'd be whisked off abroad immediately (I was hoping that too!) I bought the
Telegraph, as the crossword would pass the time, and managed to find a seat. The
train was packed with both Service personnel and civilians and I wondered if any of
the other girls were going to York. The train kept stopping and starting and slowing
down and as there were no names on the stations I had no idea where we were. Just
miles and miles of countryside covered in snow, with few houses or signs of life. I
was jolly grateful for the cheese sandwiches and sausage rolls Mum had provided.
We eventually arrived at York in the dark, with the station full of smoke from the
engines.
Suppose I couldn't find the transport? I needn't have worried, the platform was full
of girls looking lost and several khaki clad females advanced shouting 'all recruits for
York Centre wait at the barrier'. We were herded together, our names ticked off and
then taken outside. I think I had been expecting a bus or coach - well some form of
civilised transport - certainly not the large lorry that stood waiting. Hitching up our
skirts we climbed aboard - and I do mean climbed, as the back was extremely high. I
was one of the last to get on and had to stand looking out over the tailboard at dark,
twisting, snow covered streets; it was still snowing and bitterly cold. The driver
seemed intent on breaking all speed records - we were hanging on by our
fingernails! (I found out later that it wasn't a lorry but a Troop Carrier, which in the
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ATS, was always driven at high speed by specially chosen female maniacs) After
twenty minutes or so we turned into York Barracks.
If I had thought the welcome so far was rather unfriendly worse was to come. We'd
all been travelling for hours without a hot drink and for some, no food either, so we
were hoping for a meal straight away.
What a hope -' hard luck, you’re in the Army now girls' seemed to be the theme. We
went into a large hall where, after our names and life histories were checked we
were given our AB64. This was the Army equivalent of a passport and about the
same size, with a dark brown stiff cardboard cover. The first page had personal
details plus the job you had before enlistment; the rest of the pages had spaces for
medical, physical and proficiency details of your Army life; dental, and eyesight
descriptions, inoculation dates, posting details and tests taken-and even, at the end,
a Will form in case you went on active service. We were told that we must carry this
document with us at all times - if we couldn't produce it on demand we'd be on a
charge. We were also given our Army number which would identify us for all time.
Mine was W/115584 - very easy to remember. I think this is where we got our tin
hat and a respirator -presumably in case there was an air raid during the night.
Then, having been giving a knife, fork, spoon and a pint sized enamel mug we were
split into groups and met the ATS Corporal who would be in charge of us in our
training period. Stumbling after her in the darkness, we came to a large wooden hut
- our home for the immediate future.
There were iron bedsteads down each side of the hut, and in the middle an iron
stove was giving out a small amount of heat. We could choose any bed, and friends
who had joined together, obviously stayed together, others just made for the
nearest one. Beside each bed was a large grey box in which we would keep all our
belongings - no wardrobes here! On the bed itself was a bundle that resembled a
large Swiss Roll, containing three large cushions and a pillow, wrapped around with
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two sheets, a pillowcase and two blankets. We were told to make our beds now,
before supper!
The large cushions called 'biscuits' turned out to be the mattress and had to be
placed precisely down the bed then covered with one sheet, pillow on top, then
second sheet and both blankets.
Eventually everything was to the Corporal's
satisfaction and at last we staggered off to get some food.
The Mess was in another very large and dimly lit hall, smelling of stale cabbage and
disinfectant. We queued up clutching our utensils and holding out a plate, (like
Oliver Twist) we received several dollops of stew and mashed potatoes; on another
plate we got a large helping of rice pudding with a dark burnt top. Finding a seat at
one of the long tables, someone asked if there was anything to drink. 'Yes of course
- in the buckets over by the serving counter ‘ Buckets? We saw two large galvanised
steel buckets full of dark brown lukewarm tea - one 'with' and one 'without' (sugar)
but as neither was marked the first volunteer had to decide. The buckets had a lip
on one side to pour out the tea, but as they were quite heavy, an awful lot got
spilled. Going back to our tables we found the stew getting cold with a layer of
grease forming on the top, the potatoes lumpy and the rice pudding stodgy and
quite cold! However, we were starving so wolfed it down, complaining as we did so.
We took our dirty plates back to the counter and washed our utensils in the one
bucket of warm water at the door. No teacloth of course, just shake them as you go
back to the hut. We were not impressed by Army hygiene!
Tired out with travelling, the excitement and apprehension of the day and the fact
that by this time it was nine o'clock, the stove was out and it was very cold, most of
us decided to go to bed. Apart from occasionally sharing a bed with my school chum
Gwenda, I had always had my own quiet room, but that was in the past. Twelve girls
in one hut made quite a noise, everyone asking names and where you came from, all
very friendly, and what a mixed bunch we were.
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There were girls whose accents were so strange I couldn't understand a word they
said and girls who talked and laughed very loudly. Some were completely silent, one
or two were crying, some were angry over the conditions and some, like me were
rather bewildered by it all. My enduring memories of that first night are firstly, the
behaviour of the Corporal, who, removing her shoes, skirt, collar and tie, hopped
into bed, keeping the rest of her clothes on. Secondly, the woman in the next bed to
me, who appeared to be having a fit, until I realised that she was trying to undress
after putting her night-dress on over her clothes.
Various articles of clothing
emerged until, very red faced she collapsed on the bed. I thought she was rather old
to be here - she said she was twenty-five! She had been one of the first women to
be affected by the new Act of Conscription to war work, for all unmarried women
between the ages of eighteen and forty.
If we hadn't been so exhausted I doubt whether any of us would have slept that
night; the biscuits kept moving apart when you turned over so that suddenly your
bottom or leg would drop into a gap. The sheets and pillowcase were made of a very
coarse material and the blankets tickled and were not very warm. There were
snores, groans and sobbing for some time and I thought of my comfortable warm
bed at home and wondered why on earth I'd left it.
Suddenly, the lights were on, someone was shouting for us to get up and I could hear
a bugle. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 6 am. I had never been woken up
this early before and neither, to judge by their reaction had many of the others. The
Corporal sprang out of bed, put on the rest of her clothes and shouted for us to get a
move on as breakfast was at 6.30. We rushed into the ablutions (which were
separate from, but attached to, the hut) where there were two showers, four wash
basins and two lavatories. Not being used to all this mad activity in the morning,
most of us just managed to wash our face and hands before grabbing our utensils
and being marched to the Mess (we quickly learned that ATS marched everywhereno idling around) There were the two buckets, this time the tea was hot and very
welcome. We got thick porridge, one rasher of bacon; a hard fried egg and fried
bread. There was milk, sugar, thick slices of bread and a large plate of what
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appeared to be butter on each table. No sooner had we gulped it down than the
Corporal appeared shouting for us to get back to the hut at once.
We were now initiated into ATS daily routine; first, the bed had to be stripped and
folded back into the intricate Swiss Roll structure - your bed must never be made
before four o'clock in the afternoon. Then came the communal jobs - a rota had
been made out so that we all took our turn. First, clear out the ashes in the stove
and lay it with paper, wood and coke ready to be lit when the beds were made again.
Sweep the floor, then do it over with a wet mop and clean the ablutions. We had an
hour to do all this and make ourselves presentable!
At nine, we were taken over to the stores to get our uniform.
Lined up in
alphabetical order, we walked down the long counter, where clerks issued the
various items. First, to my amazement, came underwear - 3 vests, 3 white panties, 3
long khaki 'bloomers' with elastic in the legs, 2 blue striped winceyette pyjamas, 3
bras, 2 suspender belts and 2 towels. Everything that I had brought, we certainly
were going to be taken care of!
Clothes were issued on the lines of what size? If you weren't sure, you would be
given what the clerk thought was near enough - no sissy things like tape measures!
The shoes were very good indeed; flat heeled lace ups, made by Diana or Clarks,
both very well known makes. We had 3 khaki shirts, quite nice if rather stiff with
dressing, two skirts, one jacket, a greatcoat, the 'official' cap - with a stiff brim and
floppy top and a forage cap in dark brown with orange piping which could only be
worn off duty or on leave. Very useful was the khaki coloured zip fastened shoulder
bag - not leather, I think it was a thick canvas material. We also got a khaki woollen
scarf and gloves, which were not official issue but known as 'comforts' because they
had been bought by various Forces Comforts Fund Associations throughout the
country. We had to sign for all this kit and were told that if any of it was lost we
would have to pay to replace the items - except the comforts - but we'd only get
another issue of these if we took the worn out article back to the stores. We were
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also given a groundsheet - for a rainy day - and a kit bag, in which to stuff all our
clothes - it was already stencilled with our name and number!
I don't know how we staggered back to the hut with all this lot - or how we managed
to pack it in the box, as the kit bag had to be emptied. We were told to get into the
uniform - what a laugh that was! My jacket was too big up top and too small at the
waist, my skirt came down to my ankles and with all my hair, the floppy hat just
perched on top of my head.
Once we'd got it on, or not, as the case may be, we had to go outside to be inspected
by an Officer accompanied by the Sergeant Tailor, who took notes of which of us had
to have alterations. The Officer was very strict, because we had to look smart at all
times, so the uniform had to fit properly. Those of us, whose things had to go back
to the stores, continued to wear civilian clothes. OK, if all your stuff was being
altered, but if it was only the skirt or jacket, then you had to wear part of your
civilian clothes until the alterations were done. There were some very odd sights
around the camp for the first few days I can tell you!
Next on the agenda were a medical and a nit-search. It was a bit like being at a horse
sale - teeth examined, eyes peered into and chest and back thumped. This took until
dinner at midday - I can't remember what we ate for the rest of my time in York - it
wasn't special that's for sure.
We did have a break after dinner and were introduced to the NAAFI - an institute I'd
encountered before at Shorncliffe. Here we could buy tea, sandwiches, sweets and a
peculiar bright yellow cake, a plain Madeira slab known as the "Yellow Peril"; we got
a thick slice for about two pence.
As well as snacks, we could buy shoe and button polish, talcum powder and I think
face powder and lipstick - when we had the money! We also met some other new
recruits and some "old hands" who had been at York for a week or two. They told us
awful tales about the inoculations that were to come!
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After this short break we went back to the hall to join other girls who had arrived
yesterday, to hear an introductory talk by the ATS Commanding Officer. Not actually
a welcome to the ATS, rather, a 'here's what you do and this is what happens if you
don't do it '!
We learnt that we'd be here for four weeks, during which time we would do basic
training, including learning Army Drill, how to march, salute an Officer, how to clean
shoes and buttons, how to lay out kit for inspection and many more fascinating jobs.
Furthermore, we would have a vaccination against smallpox and inoculations against
a variety of other complaints. We'd also do some matrix tests, a sort of modern day
eleven plus, which would tell the Army how intelligent we were and what jobs we
would be suitable for.
Once we had our complete uniforms, we'd be allowed out to York in the evenings,
but must be back by ten thirty; if we were late we'd be put on a charge. Then
followed a list of other things that could result in one being put on a charge, which
seemed to cover everything except breathing! At the end of the four weeks, there
would be a passing out parade and we must do our utmost to be the smartest group
and not let our Corporal down. We would then be posted to our permanent units.
No home leave was allowed before three months service, unless for compassionate
reasons.
As I tottered (sorry marched) back to the hut, head full of all these weird practices, I
thought this wasn't the life that the poster had promised me. I was expecting to be
on the guns within a matter of days, doing my duty for King and Country, not
learning all this boring stuff. Too late, too late - there was no escape now unless I
deserted and that would probably mean ending up being shot!
We started drill practice next morning - the instructor, a male Sergeant - was an "old
sweat" who obviously had a very low opinion of women in uniform. There was still
snow around and lots of ice and the rotter made us march up and down a slope,
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taking great delight in halting us suddenly, so that several girls slipped over. His
favourite expression was ' you dizzy lot of Kippers'
During our second week we had the dreadful 'jabs', got our uniforms back from the
tailor and, more importantly - we got paid! Pay parade in the ATS, every two weeks,
was a ritual, which never varied whatever posting or situation you ended up in. Paid
in alphabetical order, the Sergeant called your name, you marched up to the desk,
banging your feet down hard as you halted, saluted, said “115584 Private Sidwell,
Ma'am”, You extended your right hand to receive the pay envelope, transferred it to
the left hand, saluted again with the obligatory Ma'am, did a smart about turn and
marched out of the room. Needless to say most of us made a complete mess of it
the first time. I wish I could remember how much we got - something like one pound
ten shillings I think every two weeks. Not much but of course it was spending money
as everything else was provided.
Now in the money, everyone's ambition was to go into York wearing our uniforms in
public for the very first time. Unfortunately, for most of the hut, the inoculations
had taken their toll; only three of us were left on our feet, the rest of the beds were
full of crying, moaning females, some with temperatures, some with very sore and
swollen arms and all feeling exceedingly sorry for themselves. Why we three were
not affected I don't know - no sense no feeling? Dismissing sympathy for the
sufferers, we got ready for the 'outing'
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With our kit we'd been given one tin of Cherry Blossom shoe polish and a duster for
our shoes and one tin of Bluebell Metal Polish and another duster for our brass
buttons - after these had been used you bought replacements from the NAAFI. I
knew about cleaning Army boots and buttons from watching my father getting ready
for regimental parades. I tried his method of spit and polish for my shoes, without
any great success- a rather dim shine was all I could raise. We had been issued with
a button stick - a sort of long metal horseshoe which slipped under the buttons - you
could get five or six on at the same time. The buttons, four fastening the jacket, one
on each pocket and one on each epaulette, were impressed with the ATS initials and
rotten to clean as the metal polish got into all the ridges (My father used a
toothbrush - and I quickly bought one) There was also a metal buckle on the belt of
the jacket.
We were soon dressed in our finery - brown shoes, thick lisle stockings in a sickly
pale khaki colour, shirt and a horrible light khaki cotton tie, which was so thick that it
was a devil to make a neat job of tying it (we soon learnt to slip the knot and take it
off over our heads). The skirt was straight with a button fastening (zips came later)
but the jacket - unless you were sylph like- was the most unflattering garment
possible. It had two breast pockets with flaps, which did nothing for a flat chest and
too much for a bouncy one. We had to keep our AB64 in one of the pockets, which
produced a rather one sided shape; one rounded boob and one a flat, square shaped
boob; even a Wonderbra would have given up!
As we were going out of barracks we were allowed to wear our forage cap (which
also had buttons on it!) I preferred it to the horrible floppy cap, but always had
difficulty keeping it on because of my thick hair. Then came the greatcoat, quite the
best thing the Army gave us. Made of very thick cloth, it was completely
weatherproof - from neck to below your knees you were warm. It was double
breasted, a half belt at the back, two pockets and epaulets -and of course more
buttons to clean! All we had to do now was to put on our woollen gloves, wrap our
scarves round our neck and we were all set.
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We walked out of the gate, pausing to give our name and number to the guardroom
and not knowing bus times we set off to walk to the City Centre. We had one
burning ambition - to salute an officer! We'd been taught how to salute during drill
practice and had all done eyes right on the parade ground, but we wanted to do it as
individuals. All officers of any service had to be saluted whenever and wherever they
were encountered and we were on the lookout for our first target. The poor man
doomed to be our victim was a very young Lieutenant and judging by the shiny pip
on his shoulder had recently been commissioned. I can't imagine what he felt like on
seeing three ATS striding towards him line abreast.
We executed the drill
magnificently 'Eyes Right (one two) Up (one two) Down (one two) Eyes front (one
two). We knew our salute was perfect - right arm shoulder high, bent from the
elbow towards our face, palm-facing front, fingertips just brushing our eyebrows.
We got a salute in return, but I doubt if the poor man ever recovered from our
determined attack.
I don't remember what we did that night, probably found the Salvation Army (Sally
Ann) canteen - we certainly didn't go in a pub! We got back well before ten thirty, to
report to the invalids, feeling very superior as we'd been out in uniform and saluted
an Officer - we were soldiers at last!
We had done the matrix tests -putting figures and words in sequence and other
weird things and were waiting for our individual interviews with the Commanding
Officer. She told me that I was being posted to Trowbridge in Wiltshire on a special
course, details of which were not available. I asked if it was connected to the
Artillery, she said no and I immediately (with all of two weeks in the Army behind
me) objected strongly and said I didn't want to go! She reacted even more strongly'you NEVER query any orders you are given in the Army, Private Sidwell'. I then dared
to ask 'Why me?' She said it was not her decision, she had been instructed to send
all ATS who reached a certain level in the matrix Tests and I should feel honoured at
being chosen and furthermore I would be posted out the next day - Dismissed. I
marched out muttering to myself - I didn't feel at all honoured and what's more I was
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missing the passing out parade. I discovered that there were five of us chosen for
this particular course - and we all felt very hard done by.
On 14 January, the five of us with our railway warrant, kit bag, gas mask, rations for
the journey and a big chip on our shoulders, were taken to York Station. The train
did the usual meandering around the countryside, and we wondered what was in
store for us - what sort of secret course - were we going to be spies? I think we
imagined all sorts of romantic and heroic adventures; it passed the hours away until
we arrived at Trowbridge Station sometime about eight in the evening.
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Chapter 2
Trowbridge – Special Operators Training Battalion, January – June 1942
We five seemed to be the only ATS arriving at Trowbridge so we didn't get a troop
carrier, only a small van, into the back of which we had to fit ourselves and our kit
bags - I was beginning to realise that travel in the Army was definitely not a leisure
occupation. We were driven to the barracks, which appeared in the dark to be even
worse than York and taken to group of Nissen huts, known as "spiders" (presumably
because the huts were attached, like legs, to a central ablutions block) and shown
the hut we were to occupy.
It had twelve beds and apart from five, they were all taken by girls who had arrived
earlier in the day. They were a friendly lot - the stove was alight -like York, it gave
out a miserable warmth - and also they had made up our beds, what a pleasant
welcome. We spent the evening swapping histories - none of us were very happy at
being sent here without knowing what was in store for us. To our surprise we were
the only ones that had been chosen from the results of the matrix tests. Most of the
others had not been given any explanation other than this is where you are going,
and two of them who, on signing up had not specified any job were told 'try this
course - we have no idea what it's about but if you don't like it you can always come
back here '. I never met any ATS who had actually been given the job they had asked
for when they enlisted - why did they bother to ask us?
We must have had a meal that evening, but I can't remember it; but breakfast next
morning remains in my memory to this day. At six thirty, it was dark, bitterly cold
with thick snow everywhere. Muffled to the ears with every bit of clothing we could
get on, we made our way to the cookhouse. We got the usual dollop of thick
porridge, but instead of a fried breakfast, we got a plate of liver, mashed potatoes
and thick gravy! We all look stunned - I think it was the gravy that put me off. Most
of us just couldn't face it and made do with thick slices of bread and butter, washed
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down with strong tea - out of the usual buckets. Apparently, as it was a mixed
barracks of men and women, we were all on men's rations - hence the liver!
The food at Trowbridge was absolutely terrible all the time we were there, but we
were always so hungry we ended up by eating whatever we were given. By this
stage in the war, food rationing was very severe and even the Forces felt the pinch.
In our case it was made worse by the appalling cooking. I don't know if the ATS
cooks had been trained by the Army, but if so, they were not a good advertisement
for the method used. We had a theory that, like us, they had asked to do some
other job and having been refused were getting their own back.
The menu was very limited; boiled potatoes, boiled cabbage, fried Spam, liver, some
sort of meat, (we didn't dare think what animal it came from) and almost every day,
a really solid slab of boiled suet pudding covered with watered down golden syrup,
or rice pudding and of course, gallons of tea!
We did have a canteen with the "Yellow Peril" and some cakes with bright pink icing
on, but, our special treat to keep ourselves warm and fill up the gaps, was their star
attraction - a "Fried Doorstep" This would give today's slimmer's a heart attack; it
was two thick slices of bread, stuck together with jam, dipped in batter and deep
fried in some sort of fat. Heaven knows how many calories it contained! Whenever
we went into Trowbridge, we consoled ourselves with beans on toast at the Sally
Ann.
The barracks had originally been built in the middle of the nineteenth century for a
Cavalry regiment and had not been used since the First World War. In 1940 it was
hurriedly opened up for the Signals as a Special Operators Training Battalion.
Originally for male soldiers only, the first ATS who came as clerks, typists, drivers and
cooks had to put up with atrocious conditions until, in the spring of 1941, the first of
the ATS sent here to train as Special Operators arrived.
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By the time I came in January 1942, mine was the tenth Squad to be trained - 8
Squad were about to leave for an unknown destination and 9 Squad were halfway
through the course. We heard a rumour that some earlier operators had been sent
to the Middle East - lucky things!
We were given the Royal Corps of Signals badge to wear over the left-hand pocket of
our tunic (more brass to clean) and to our delight, the triangular navy and white
Signal flash to wear at the top of each sleeve. That made us feel a bit more
important and part of the real Army.
We now found out that we were going to be here for the next six months and the
'special course' consisted of learning the Morse Code and listening to Royal Signals
instructors sending Morse signals for five or six hours every day, except Saturday
afternoon and all day Sunday. I think a few of the girls knew the Morse code - I had
very hazy memories of my time as a Girl Guide messing about with signal flags.
We were also to have classes in electricity and magnetism - of which I have no
recollection at all. Also map reading, when we would be taken out in a car - a large
Humber I think - which had a direction finder on the roof and we had to plot map
references from radio signals. All I can remember is a nice car ride through the
countryside! We would have to learn about a hundred or more "Q" codes that
apparently were used for radio procedure and communications, and as an extra, we
would have some practice at transmitting Morse.
It was obvious that we were going to be wireless operators, but the instructors were
giving nothing away, just hinting that we'd need a fairly high speed to start with and
it would get faster, and, in answer to our questions, they said wait and you will be
told at the end of the course.
We were given two pads - one on which to write down, the message and another the "log” - to enter all the Q codes and any other signals received. Two instructors
took the parts of the sender and the receiver and from an almost standing start they
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gradually got us on to a more respectable speed. The messages were all in five letter
blocks and it was impressed on us that if we missed a letter, we must always leave a
space.
We soon began to realise that learning the Morse code was one thing, taking it
down for hours on end even at our low speed was another. After a week or two
some of the girls were feeling the strain and it was soon obvious that a high mark in
the IQ tests, a liking for the radio or any of the other reasons we had been given for
being sent on this course had no bearing on the job we were training for - whatever
that would turn out to be. I remember one afternoon when one of the girls jumped
up, dragged her earphones off and ran out of the hall screaming that she couldn't
stand any more. A few days later she was sent back to her training centre and by the
end of the six months only 18 out of the 26 original members had survived.
We might be called Special Operators, but that didn't exclude us from all the other
boring things we had to do. Somehow drill parades were fitted in as well as PE and
Kit Inspections and of course there was always the making/unmaking bed ritual,
cleaning the hut and Pay Parade.
We did have some leisure - after supper each day, Saturday afternoon from 12 until
10.30 and Sunday after church parade. Trowbridge was a pleasant market town and
18
away from barracks we had some good times. A group of us used to go to the
pictures every week and buy fish and chips on our way back to the barracks-wrapped
in newspaper, the only way to eat them, especially on a cold night. We also had PE
and formed a Squad hockey team, having friendly games against girls in the other
training squads.
10 Squad Hockey Team. Gwen is kneeling, second from right.
The countryside was lovely and we were within walking distance of Bradford -onAvon, which had an ancient stone bridge over the river and a delightful old pub, The
Swan. After our walk we would adjourn for a lemonade, or being daring - a shandy. I
always think of Wiltshire as being full of dandelions which were growing everywhere
along the roads and in the fields.
On Sundays, we marched to Church, sometimes with a band. One week we were
behind the Rifle Brigade and their band. They have the quickest marching pace in
the British Army - we must have had the slowest, and we ended up almost running,
much to the amusement of the few locals looking on. We spent the whole of the
service in getting our breath back, before starting all over again - talk about a
marathon!
19
One Saturday in April, I forget the actual date (except that it was just after payday); a
few of us had gone into Bath to get some Polyphotos of ourselves in uniform to send
to our families. We treated ourselves to a slap up meal - fish and chips I think, but
served on plates and had tea in cups instead of enamel mugs.
That night, about ten o'clock, we were woken up by air raid sirens and we had to put
on our tin hats and greatcoats over our pyjamas, take our gas masks and make for
the slit trench outside the huts. We had a marvellous view of the air raid on Bath one of the "Baedeker" raids - so called because the bombers concentrated on
cathedral cities, the names of which were said to have been chosen from the Guide
Books published by Karl Baedeker, a German. I'm afraid, being young; we thought it
quite exciting and gave no thought to the possible loss of lives in the raid.
The course was coming to an end and we would soon be facing the final tests - the
results of which would determine our future. We were tested on Direction Finding
and map reading. For the D/F test we were taken out in jeeps with a No 11 radio set
and asked to plot the position of signal on the map and then make our own way back
to the barracks. I presume we did, as I can't remember anything about it.
Then came the real testing. We had to take continuous Morse for a set period,
possibly half an hour, at a speed of eighteen letters per minute and allowed two
mistakes -either a wrong letter or a space. There was no leeway - you reached that
level or failed. We then had to answer questions on the Q codes - this was not quite
so concentrated. But I remember being really tensed up and convinced that I'd
failed.
The following day we were summoned to the hall to learn our fate. We were told
that if our name was read out, we should go to the other end of the room. Ten
names were called, mine amongst them, and our small but highly relieved group
gathered to await further information. The unsuccessful girls were told they would
be returned to their training centres, but not to feel failures, as the course was very
demanding - now they tell us!
20
The lucky ten were all excited - at last we'll get to know what the future holds in
store. But first we were each presented with a copy of the Official Secrets Act,
ordered to read it thoroughly and then sign it. Ah, we thought - we are going to be
spies.
Nothing so romantic. We were to be posted to Loughborough in Leicestershire,
leaving the following morning. Someone asked what we would be doing and was
told 'you will be given all the information necessary when you join your unit’ Well,
that was helpful.
Later that night we all said our goodbyes - the rest of the group were as puzzled as
we were about all the mystery. The idea of being a spy was rather knocked on the
head by realising that we hadn't had a test in sending signals, which presumably was
an important part of being a spy - and anyway none of us was fluent in French or
German! So we gathered up all our gear and the next morning we were taken to the
station en route to Loughborough via London. The train was packed so we had to sit
in the corridor on our kit bags - I knew that there had to be another use for them. As
usual the journey took hours, the stops and starts presumably caused by air raids or
the after effects. But we were now 'old soldiers' with six months service under our
belts and could cope with these minor problems. What puzzled us, was, what
possible job needed the ability to read high speed Morse, memorise lots of boring
old 'Q' signals and required so much secrecy?
21
Chapter 3
Beaumanor – No 1 ATS Y Wing, June 1942 – May 1944
Arriving at Loughborough Station some time in the evening of 8 June 1942, we found
a troop carrier waiting; it had been six months since I'd been in one and I had
forgotten about the drivers. This one was a real nut case, called 'Red' because of the
colour of her beautiful long hair, which she crammed under her cap. She drove the
carrier as if it was a motor cycle - we tore through the town, hurtled round corners
and most of us ended up on the floor underneath our kit bags. I was to get used to
her over the next two years.
We were looking out of the back of the carrier trying to see if we could spot a
military camp or likely buildings when we came to stop in the main street of a small
village which the driver said was Quorn. Climbing out of the carrier we were very
surprised to find ourselves outside an old pub- still bearing the sign ‘The Old Bull' which we were told was our Headquarters. The inside of the bars had all been
ripped out and various rooms had labels on the door including one which said Skittle
Alley - Mess Hall!
A pleasant looking ATS officer appeared and introduced herself as our Commanding
Officer, Commandant Miss Able-White. To our utter astonishment, she not only
welcomed us, but said she was sure we must be very tired and hungry and in need of
a hot meal and a cup of tea. This was so unlike the usual Army approach - the first
kind civilised words we had heard over the past few weeks, that we were struck
dumb. She then told us to go and have our meal in the Mess Hall and she would
come and talk to us after we had finished.
I can't remember the meal, so it must have been alright, and we were starving
anyhow. The Commandant arrived and said she wouldn't bother us too much
tonight, just tell us that our work required twenty four hour coverage, seven days a
week and this would be done by four watches working in six hour shifts, the times of
22
which changed each week. She then read out our names and the watch to which we
had been assigned. Rosemary Price, Jenny Denne and myself, were given C Watch,
the others distributed between A, B and D. That was all we needed to know until
tomorrow when she would explain everything else - and wishing us good night she
left.
We collected our things and followed a Corporal out into the street. Falling, into
two's by habit and marching behind her, we had another shock. 'You don't march
here, just walk in your own time - you're operational now' What did that mean?
Instead of a hut we found ourselves at a three-story house, in one of the roads off
the High Street - the Corporal called a girl out of the house to meet us and then went
off with the others to their lodgings.
I think the name of the house was Southwood, but I can't be sure - anyway it was
within easy walking distance of the Old Bull. It was a large Victorian/Edwardian type
villa, built probably at the turn of the century and in a rather run down condition. A
Corporal appeared, introduced herself and took us to the room we were to share; on
the first floor, it was quite large, with a big bay window but with the usual iron
bedsteads and boxes, it was rather cramped, but definitely an improvement on a
hut. We were shown the one bathroom, two lavatories (one outside) and the
kitchen which had a table and a few old chairs, an ancient gas stove and an old sink not the Ritz by any standard! The Corporal - Betty was her name, told us that we
would not be going on watch with them tomorrow as we would be meeting Miss
Able-White for a talk. Pop down to breakfast between seven and eight thirty and by
the way, don't fold your beds up - you're operational now! That magic word again!
Breakfast followed the usual pattern - we might be 'operational' but we still had tea
from buckets. The other girls in the mess hall seemed very friendly and there was
definitely a more relaxed atmosphere than Trowbridge - no Corporals chasing you
about and, however changed the building was, it still felt like a pub and certainly not
like any Army rooms we had seen.
23
Seated informally we listened to Miss Able-White. We were now part of War Office
'Y' Group, (known as WOYG) which was the HQ of No 6 Intelligence School and part
of MI 8. (As this was pre-James Bond, and MI5 this meant nothing to us). We were
now officially known as Special Wireless Operators (SWOPS). There was more
information on the shift hours - which were worked, on a three-week basis. First
week 1pm to 7pm. Second week 7am to 1pm. The third week would be split shift 1am to 7am and back the same evening 7pm to 1pm. On the split shift week we
were supposed to sleep during the day and no other activities were scheduled.
During the other weeks, PE and Drill practice might occasionally be fitted in but,
apart from Pay Parade, generally our off duty hours were free to do whatever we
wanted within the precincts of Quorn, Loughborough and Leicester - Leicester was
about half an hour on the bus - Loughborough almost walking distance.
This
sounded all right in theory, but when we came to work these hours we found them
quite difficult to adjust to.
We would be working about a mile and a half up the road at Beaumanor and would
be taken there by a Troop Carrier. The house -or rather mansion- was a mixture of
architectural styles; parts of it dating back to the Elizabethan period with later
alterations in the Victorian era.
It was occupied by the admin staff, and we
operators would be working in huts that had been built in the grounds. There was a
canteen for when we had a break during watch and the site was patrolled by bluecapped Military Police with Alsatian dogs (blue caps denoting a high security
installation) The Commanding Officer of the whole set-up was Lieutenant
Commander Ellingworth RN (retired) and the supervisors in the huts were civilian
Wireless Operators, all men, known as EWAs- Experimental Wireless Assistants - to
disguise their real work. They were billeted in houses in the surrounding villages.
We were then told that no applications for a posting out of the unit would be
allowed. If - for medical or other reasons, you could not do your job as an operator,
you would be transferred to admin or stores or some other job but still within the
unit. Because of this, there was very little movement of personnel and promotion
was very scarce.
24
We were then reminded that we had signed the Official Secrets Act and told that
under no circumstances must we talk to any local people in the village about our
work, or any other civilians or service personnel outside our own unit. This also
applied to our families and friends. Furthermore, we must never, whatever the
reason, discuss our work with the administration, including her or other officers.
Their job was to deal with our ordinary day to day life in the ATS - pay, leave
entitlement, medical and various other bits and pieces. Any problems about our
actual work must be addressed to the Sergeant in charge of the watch or to the
supervisor of whichever hut we worked in. This left us in an even more confused
state. What on earth were we about to do - so far everyone we had met had
seemed quite normal.
We hadn't much chance to talk to other members of the watch - they were on the 1
to 7 afternoon shift and most spent the morning in bed and practically everyone
went out directly after they had supper. But one or two had a few words of
welcome - one girl had told us not to worry, just try and survive the first day!
So, next day we turned up for dinner at twelve o'clock and prepared to board the
troop carrier at twelve forty five. We met the Sergeant, whose name I can't
remember - she also told us not to worry! The three of us were getting a little
anxious, but consoled ourselves with the knowledge that we could do high speed
Morse - we were bound to be OK.
Before continuing with my story I should say that a lot of what I shall be describing
was not known to us at the time. It wasn't until 1993 that details were released and
we really knew what it had all been about. But it will make it easier for the reader to
understand our reactions at the time if I explain it now. A lot of the detail about the
set-up at Beaumanor was also a later addition.
We arrived at Beaumanor in about ten minutes (five when Red drove) and walked
through the gates into the park. Beaumanor house stood on the left and the huts
25
were around the perimeter of the large lawn in front of the house. I had expected to
see Nissen huts so it was something of a surprise to see they were brick built, but
camouflaged to look like buildings on a farm. Most as cottages, but one looked like a
small barn and another - which we found out later was the Teleprinter Room looked like a cricket pavilion, it even had a clock tower, complete with clock. All the
huts were designated by the letters of the alphabet; those used by the ATS were H, I,
J and K, and were known as Set Rooms. The letters were chalked on the outside wall
of each hut (and are still there today!) These huts were connected by underground
cable to a central Control Room. Each hut monitored different types of work - the
Quorn Operators worked in H and I huts and those at Garats Hay - No 2 WOYG,
which was just forming, would be in J.
We went into H Set Room - which had a rather utilitarian outside - obviously the
home of a lower grade worker!
Inside, it was very claustrophobic with small
windows high up, so that we couldn't see out, or anyone see in, and they didn't give
a great deal of light. On the right as we entered, was a desk where the Supervisor
and the Sergeant of the Watch sat. To the right of them was a door to the aerial
room. This housed the connections to the aerial masts which stretched across the
fields of the estate.
There was also a small room where we could hang our
greatcoats and hats. At the back of the hut there were two small rooms, one was
the lavatory and the other had a hand basin. To heat the whole hut there was a
small radiator.
Apart from the first row, all we could see were the top of the girls’ heads with
headphones on, presumably taking down Morse - we couldn't actually see what they
were doing, as there appeared to be a large board in front of each of them. We
three stood at the front awaiting instructions, the others took over from the
outgoing watch. We had been told that the watch would eventually total thirty-six
operators, but at the moment not enough had been trained, so men civilian
operators were filling the vacancies.
26
I was sent to the last desk at the back where a man was obviously taking a message
at what looked like break neck speed. He gestured to me to take up a pair of head
phones, which were connected to what appeared to be a large radio set - this was
the board that I'd noticed earlier. He hissed 'take down the log' pointing to a pad in
front of me. The pad was not the same as those we had used at Trowbridge. For a
start, printed at the top in large red letters was W/T RED FORM (red indicating high
security) and although some of the sections were familiar there were many more
boxes that obviously needed filling in. I saw that the message pad had the same
heading and other additions.
But the worse thing was the wireless set. I put the headphones on - yes, Morse was
coming through at a reasonable speed, but so also, was music, atmospherics and
what I remember from our old radio at home, we called 'oscillation,' a lot of horrible
whines and squeaks, and to make matters worse, the signal was also fading. The
27
man said 'tune it in'! He must be joking - I hadn't a clue. There was an enormous
'wheel' in the middle with figures on it and other buttons and switches on the set. At
that moment his message finished - he tore the pages off the pad and I saw that
there was carbon paper under each page. The top copy went in a tray on the top of
the set and was immediately collected by an ATS, known as a "runner" who rolled it
up, put it in a metal container and pushed it down a tube at the back of the room,
which was connected to the Teleprinter Hut. He turned, looked at my pitiful effort, I
had written two letters down, and said - and I can hear him to this day ' God
Almighty another bloody useless woman'
I was petrified and all I wanted to do was to get up and run out of the door all the
way home to Mum. I looked over at Rosemary - she was as white as a sheet. What
on earth were we doing here?
The man said 'you don't know what you're doing do you? The messages I'm taking
are coming from a German Air Base in North Africa. Have you any idea about Traffic
and Star Working?' Traffic? Star? What had that got to do with Morse? He started
on another message while I floundered around trying to work out what the hell I was
supposed to be doing. At the end of the next message, he did unbend, introduced
himself as Phil and apologised for being so rude. He said they were all getting fed up
with ATS coming on duty and having no idea of the work. Also Bletchley Park was
fed up. What or where was Bletchley Park? Apparently it was a place where the
messages we had taken were sent for decoding - it could also be known as Station X.
I began to feel like Alice in Wonderland.
Luckily it was break time and I and two or three others staggered across the lawn to
what looked like a large greenhouse, but turned out to be the canteen. We had a
cuppa and a sandwich or cake - both of which were stale -and to add insult to injury,
we had to pay for them! The others obviously saw that I was in a fragile state and
told me not to worry. You'll soon pick it up and don't take any notice of the men;
they can be really nasty about us at times.
28
To explain this situation I have to go to the future.
About 1993, details of the Codebreaking at Bletchley Park became public knowledge
and Enigma and Ultra, became, for the first time, familiar names to millions including those of us in the 'Y' Service.
My husband Ronald was reading a book called The Ultra Secret and said ' Didn't you
say you had worked at a place called Beaumanor? You didn't tell me you were
connected with Enigma and Ultra and took German messages. It says here that over
600 girls of the ATS worked in shifts round the clock taking down faint Morse signals
from Germany and Occupied Europe with the greatest possible accuracy and under
difficult conditions'
I said that I'd never heard the words before - the intercepting bit was right and we
knew the messages were from Germany and they went to Bletchley Park, but I didn't
think there were as many as 600 of us at Beaumanor. But the words Enigma and
Ultra were never, ever mentioned. We had no idea what happened to the messages.
However, once the cat was out of the bag, re-unions started and we found out what
it was all about.
In 1940, with the threat of possible imminent invasion, the code breakers at
Bletchley were desperate to get as many intercept messages as possible. But there
was a great shortage of personnel. In the Army, the Royal Corps of Signals provided
operators, but not enough could be spared. The Navy had their own operators and
the RAF had a few.
Where were the operators of the future? Well, some clever lad at the War Office
knew the answer. Women! In the latter part of 1941, unmarried women between
the ages of 18 and 40 were called up to serve either in the Armed Forces, Land Army
or in Factories making weapons; you could choose which you wanted to join, but not
where you would be sent.
29
So, clever boy said - teach high speed Morse to the ones who join the services,
especially the ATS. But how were they to be chosen? Well, no one had any idea, but
did it matter? Not really, tell the training centres to sort it out - how about
intelligence tests - or tell them to use their initiative.
So that's how it came about that I and hundreds of others got caught up in the
system. But of course many of the girls were completely unsuited to the work. Not
through lack of intelligence, you don't need a degree in rocket science to read
Morse. What is needed is an ability to concentrate for long periods, write very fast
and legibly and also have the patience to sit for hours waiting for a signal, without
dozing off and missing it. Also the stamina to survive the shift hours!
But, as usual, the scheme hadn't been thought through. The girls who had survived
the course at Trowbridge arrived at Beaumanor having been fully tested in taking
High Speed Morse. They were then confronted with a new world about which they
knew nothing and were completely useless. Obviously the trainees could not have
been told what the job was really about until after they had passed the test and
were officially in the 'Y' group. You couldn't have someone going back to her training
centre, telling everyone what a weird course they'd been on -all about taking
German Messages on top secret pads! So the early operators were thrown in at the
deep end and complaints from BP and the civilian chaps poured in.
There must have been one bright spark at the War Office, for someone came up with
a solution. A church hall in Loughborough was taken over, made completely secure
and set up as a Set Room. The incoming girls would now only stay at Trowbridge for
four months and then come to Loughborough for a two-month course on all the
procedures, before actually going on Ops, by which time they should know the job
backwards. The poor guinea pigs already on watch would have to do the best they
could!
And we did. Over the weeks and months we got to grips with both the messages and
the radios. I think the radios were American, I remember a Skyrider, an HRO and I
30
think one called a Hallicrafter. I have a feeling the HRO was the favourite, but why I
can't remember. Probably it was the easiest and most sensitive to changes of
frequency and reception. All the sets had dials showing the frequencies, with a large
'knob' for moving over a whole band and a couple of other knobs for increasing the
sound and hopefully drowning other noises. It was difficult to blank out the static
and jamming that could often swamp the message you were trying to take. It was
very common for stations to wander off the frequency and whilst writing with one
hand, the other would be twiddling the knob to follow them, quite literally some
times, as you'd find yourself leaning in the same direction, sometimes getting almost
horizontal! I remember very clearly taking down a message under what sounded like
a military band playing The Entry of the Gladiators - my musical appreciation was
quite dimmed on that occasion.
By now I was getting to understand the systems used by the various German
stations. I now knew that 'traffic' referred to the amount of activity of a group. Even
Star Working was making sense. In both H and I hut we were intercepting messages
from the Middle East, principally German Air Force and Rommel's Army Groups. The
Air Force Groups were named after colours - Red for North Africa and Blue for
Europe. The Army Groups were named after birds, such as Kestrel, and, Vulture.
Most of these groups worked what was called The "Stern" or Star System. This
worked with a Control and several outstations, who worked through their control.
For example the Control station's call sign was - say - ABC. It would send a series of
V's - dot dot dot dash- with its own call sign to enable the outstations to tune into
the signals, and then call up the first outstation, DEF - and when it replied, told it to
wait - AS - dot dash, dot dot dot - it then went on through all the other outstations.
Eventually, when Control had them lined up he would then send QTC - I have a
message for you - followed by a number, denoting how many messages there were.
He would send what we called the Preamble, which was the heading of the message.
After a sequence of letters he would indicate how many parts there were in the
message. For example, 4TLE -1TL meant the message was in 4 parts and 1TL was
31
part one. TLE was the short for Teiler, the German word for parts -TL for part. As can
be seen from the example; there were other entries to be made.
For most of the girls the night watch was a drag. At that time many stations
normally did not work at night unless something special was happening and some of
us would literally not hear a thing during the whole watch. We were not allowed to
read, do crosswords or write letters, just sit there with the headphones on. If your
station was not expected to work, then you were supposed to move around the dial
trying to pick up any stray signals that came your way. I was never sure if doing
nothing was worse than being on a group where the Control called up every hour
just to say he had no message. It meant you had to keep an eye on the clock and not
doze off. Of course, we did write letters and do crosswords and play noughts and
crosses, hiding them under the pads, because if you got caught it was a chargeable
offence. It was worth the risk and it stopped you going bonkers. I don’t think we
could smoke and no food or drink was allowed, although we did hide sweets and
occasional biscuits!
32
In the winter it was so cold that our hands and feet were numb and it was difficult to
write. We were then allowed to sit in our greatcoats and wear gloves - but of course
you couldn't write with gloves on! Later the comfortable battledress arrived; not
only did it keep our legs warm but the tops were much more comfortable to wear
than the bulky tunics. At first we were only allowed to wear battledress on watch.
Later we could wear the top with our skirts as an alternative to the jacket when we
were off duty, but we were not allowed to wear trousers outside the camp. I think
this applied to all ATS.
After a few months we were getting used to the work, but the shift hours were
causing problems, especially on the split week shift, mostly caused by lack of sleep.
Short of someone standing over you, there was no way the Powers That Be could
make us get enough sleep during the day. We tended to go to bed for a few hours
and then get up and go out to a dance or the pictures. Our leisure hours were
precious - not to be wasted in sleeping. Sometimes it became very difficult to keep
your eyes open on the evening watch, let alone concentrate on reading Morse.
So the shift hours for the ATS were altered to suit our requirements. The new hours
were a bit drastic; still four shifts and still six hours, but now crammed into three
days. The first day was 1 till 7pm. Next day 7 am until 1pm. and then back again at
1am until 7am and then back the same evening at 7pm until 1am. We then had 36
33
hours off duty, when we could apply for a twenty four-hour sleeping out pass but
only within a few miles of Beaumanor. Loughborough and Leicester were the
nearest centres of civilisation. Every six weeks we could apply for a forty eight-hour
pass for longer distances, but got no travel expenses. Every six months we got a
seven-day pass with a travel warrant to whatever destination you asked for.
One of the girls on my watch (one of the really early arrivals), was Barbara
Bairnsfather. Her father, Bruce, had been a cartoonist in the First World War. His
drawings of a soldier, known as "Old Bill", with his comic moustache and sometimes
cynical comments on life in the trenches, became very famous. Barbara was also
very artistic and designed a special flash to wear on our uniform. The War Office
approved, on the strict rule that it could only be worn by the operators at
Beaumanor, and no other station. We were immensely proud of this distinction.
Barbara left us to go on a special course to become one of the first operators to be
commissioned. She moved to start up another station - more of that later.
Off duty our social life was quite good and most weekends there were dances at the
Corn Exchange in Loughborough, plus there were three cinemas. Leicester had even
more to offer, including a lovely market on Saturdays. We were also given special
permission to use the local Tennis Club's courts in the afternoons. And there was a
very good Services Social Club, run by some of the locals, where we were made very
welcome and they had home-made cakes!
One of the great 'perks' we enjoyed were free tickets to concerts at the De Montfort
Hall in Leicester. A list would go up in the Mess Hall and provided enough names
were added we'd get free transport in the troop carrier. We usually sat in the seats
at the back of the orchestra which gave us marvellous close up views of all the
conductors and soloists. I saw many famous people- such as Eileen Joyce, who at
that time was the second most famous woman pianist in England (Myra Hess was
the first). But Eileen was the glamour girl, renowned for the beautiful dresses she
wore. All the major orchestras and their conductors came - Thomas Beecham,
Malcolm Sargent, Adrian Boult, as well as most of the leading singers and
34
instrumentalists. Having played the piano for some years I had always been keen on
music, but this experience really opened my ears to a much wider appreciation.
We also went to ENSA concerts, short for Entertainments National Service
Association, but better known as ‘Every Night Something Awful! And they often
were. The best acts and the more famous stars, usually going to the troops overseas
or stationed nearer to London. We saw them at Stanford Hall, the home of Sir Julien
Cahn, who owned Times Furnishing. It was a magnificent house, part of which was
used as an Officers’ convalescent home. It also had a small but well appointed
Theatre where the concerts were held.
By now all watches were up to the full strength of thirty-six girls, which allowed
cover for the girls on leave or sick. Apart from the alteration in the hours there was
a general shift round to different billets. C Watch moved to 'Rose Cottage' a name
which conjures up a vision of a country cottage with roses round the door. In reality,
it was an ugly looking three storey house, which had been declared unfit for Army
occupation (for men of course, not ATS) It had one good point its position in the
High Street, a few yards up from the Old Bull ,and the bus stop for Leicester was
outside the door. Jenny, Rosemary and I again shared a room, larger and more
pleasant than our original one, with a large bay window looking onto the High Street.
For use by the thirty five of us (the Sergeant of each watch had their own
accommodation) there was - on the ground floor, an outside lavatory, a kitchen with
an old sink and ancient gas cooker, and three or four bedrooms. Second floor, more
bedrooms and a combined bathroom, washbasin and lavatory and on the third floor,
more bedrooms. The lavatory was separated from the bath by a door, though you
had to pass the bath to get there. We soon learnt to forget modesty; you could
never lock the bathroom door, as it was quite usual for someone to be in the bath,
another washing her hair at the basin and various girls trotting in and out of the loo!
If you wanted privacy, the thing to do was have your bath when everyone else was
sleeping, especially after night duty. You can imagine the queues when we got
dolled up on our free evenings! Each bedroom had at least three occupants, but
35
surprisingly we all got on quite well, in spite of Nora, in the next room persisting in
playing her 'Ink Spots' records when off duty! We all knew by heart the words of 'I
like Coffee, I like Tea' and 'Don't Get around much anymore'!
When we were not on duty on Sunday, Jenny, Rosemary and I would go to St
Bartholomew's, the Quorn Parish Church. After the service, we'd get a handshake
from the vicar, - who would then pop off for a sherry with our Officers at the Old
Bull. Most of the congregation would smile and say Good Morning, but otherwise
we were more or less ignored. Rosemary was a Methodist and when we discovered
a small Methodist Chapel a few doors from Rose Cottage, we decided to go there to
please her.
No sooner had the last Amen been said, than we were surrounded by the whole
congregation ' 'Can you have baths?' 'Are you getting enough to eat?' How about
your washing?' The three of us were overwhelmed by invitations to meals and we
spent many sociable evenings and Sunday dinners with one farming family who
'adopted' us. They also put up our families when they came to stay and my mother
had a very pleasant week with them that summer. When we could, the three of us
joined their choir -it consisted of about six people and on occasions I did a stint on
the piano, banging out the hymns with gusto. We got rather involved with their
Temperance league, which caused Jenny and me some amusement. We didn't dare
let on that Jenny's family had a pub in Maidstone and my father had been a publican
before rejoining the Army in 1939! I learned that in Leicestershire, tea is "mashed"
when ready to drink and they didn't have crumpets, they had pikelets!
For some reason I had rather a painful time during that first year in Quorn. In the
summer I had several rather nasty boils under both arms. The doddery old Army
doctor (called from retirement obviously as he was at least in his nineties) just
prescribed Kaolin poultices all the time. When the fifth or sixth boil started up I went
on sick parade again, luckily he was on leave and the locum was a young and very
efficient woman doctor. She received my complaint about a boil with contempt ' I
suppose you've got a pimple' but on seeing it, was so horrified at the mess my arms
36
were in that she sent me, with the medical orderly, immediately to Leicester
Infirmary for treatment. They lanced the thing - under a light anaesthetic known as'
laughing gas'. It certainly was - we came back on the bus with me giggling all the way
back to Quorn. There were no antibiotics in those days, but with dry dressings it all
cleared up, though I have the scars still.
Then, just before Christmas 1942 I felt unwell and had pains in my back. Diagnosed
at first as shingles, it turned out to be a nasty case of chickenpox and I was sent to
the sick bay in Woodhouse Eaves - just outside Beaumanor Park. This had been a
private house in fairly large grounds, owned by a retired General. His hobby was
gardening and there were marvellous azaleas and other exotic plants from India and
China, which he had collected during his service overseas.
Although it was quite a miserable first Christmas, it had pleasant consequences. Out
of all the ATS in Quorn, just two of us had contracted chickenpox - myself and Peggy
Cracknell. She was also on my watch, though, at that stage we didn’t know each
other very well. After sharing our spots, we became close friends from then on - and
still are!
One good thing about being friends with Peggy was that her parents lived in
Leicester and we could spend our off duty time at her home. Her mother was a very
good cook; her onion gravy was really something! Peggy's father was a character he'd been to theological college but never gone into the church, deciding to go into
business on his own account, in insurance and accountancy. Unfortunately he had
several business failures. He was highly intelligent, but a gentle soul and really not
suited to a business life.
He was a great music lover and also introduced me to many books - one I remember
was George Bernard Shaw's 'An Intelligent Women's Guide to Politics'. He was very
interesting to listen to on many subjects and I was always happy to visit there.
37
In March 1943 I was made Lance Corporal and proudly stitched my stripe on my
sleeve. Apart from a rise in pay, which was welcome I was now on the roster for
'Orderly NCO' duty one week a month. All this consisted of was sitting in the Admin
office at the Old Bull in the evenings, checking that everybody on a late pass was in
on time, taking any telephone messages and generally holding the fort. The Orderly
Officer used to pop in for a few minutes, but nothing exciting ever happened whilst I
was on duty.
The only light relief was when Gladys, the Geordie cook had a pass, as she always
came in late. The first night she did this I was very wary of her as she not only had a
terrible temper, but also hated 'Operator Tarts' as she called us! We used to take
turns to ask for more tea, as her language would turn the air blue. I hesitated to tell
her off; in fact I overlooked the time! On my next turn of duty, she wasn't on a pass,
thank goodness, but about ten o'clock she came in with a large plate of chips for me
- 'such a nice girl I was, not like some of the others'.
At the end of March, at a social in Quorn, I not only won a prize in a quiz
competition, but also met Ian, one of the 'Middy's' - Fleet Air Arm Midshipmen who
were on a course in Loughborough. He was rather a serious young man about
twenty one, six feet three and very thin. He came from Manchester, where his Mum
was a Town Councillor. We became very good friends, went to the pictures, and all
the dances, and when our free time coincided, cycled around Charnwood Forest.
We were all expected to try for a higher grade - a B2 Operator, which meant reading
Morse at 25 words per minute, if you passed you got an extra five bob a week
'enhanced skill award'. At the end of this year I was awarded a Good Conduct Badge,
-a chevron worn upside down on my sleeve. I think this merited another five bob
and I suppose I was quite well off, as the only money deducted from our pay was the
obligatory employment stamp
38
At this point I think a description of life in the outside world around us would be
appropriate.
In the spring of 1944, we, and of course every one living in the area, had become
aware of an influx of troops. Polish, Free French, Norwegian, English, Scottish, Welsh
and others. We felt their presence in a different way to the civilians. They all used
radio communication and as they were so near, we got their signals at maximum
strength - also most of them were awful senders - we said they used their feet not
their fingers. It made reading our messages much more difficult. Still we loved our
boys!
It was quite a job keeping them all happy and every little village managed a dance at
least once or twice a week, even if the band consisted of a pianist and one other
instrumentalist; sometimes the troops themselves made up the band. It was great
for the females in the district and that, of course included the ATS!
39
Then one day, we all received a great cultural shock; the arrival of the 105th
Parachute Infantry Regiment of the United States 82nd All American Airborne
Division! Wow! Life was never the same again. We'd never seen anyone like them
before - the oddest bunch of men, all shapes and sizes. Some speaking a sort of
English, which included strange words. Chewing gum all the time and not looking or
sounding at all like the Americans we'd seen in films.
Their arrival did not go down too well with the other troops stationed in the area, as
all the available girls wanted a Yank as a boy friend. It was very nice going out with
one of our boys - he'd pay for the pictures and fish and chips. But with the Yanks,
you got Hershey Bars, chewing gum, Passing Cloud, Lucky Strike and Camel
cigarettes.
Possibly a tin of meat or fruit from the PX - there was just no
competition.
The saying that the Yanks were "Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here" seemed very
apt, and there were often fights at the local dances. This may be apocryphal, but
some of the girls in the watch that relieved us at 1 am one night, said they were
there and saw it. There was a dance in the church hall at one of the small villages. It
was quiet until about 8.30 when a small number of Americans came in, possibly
already slightly under the influence. Remarking how quiet it was, one of them asked
the band to liven things up - ' How about playing the Dunkirk Retreat?' he said. He
obviously hadn't recognised the divisional sign on the tunics of the British lads - they
were all from the Guards Armoured Brigade - most of who had been at Dunkirk and
were a very tough lot indeed. Within minutes, all the windows and most of the
furniture had been smashed and the Redcaps, White helmeted US Military Police
and the local Bobby were on the scene. There were several broken bones and cuts quite a night out for the boys.
But the Americans were essentially a very friendly lot and the locals took to them
immediately -and it wasn't just because they had more money. When they were not
training, they took part in many local events and were particularly generous to the
children, either giving parties for them, or providing food for events run by local
40
associations. They were always handing out gum and chocolate to local children
when they were in Loughborough. Over the years quite a lot of them have been back
to Loughborough and are always warmly welcomed
Of course, most of the ATS found American boy friends and chewing gum became
the 'in' thing. If the Paras went away on training courses, we all knew when they
were back, by the relieving watch - all smiles and chewing like crazy; also exhibiting
Camel cigarettes!
For the first time we took a serious interest in group Orders, which were posted on
the notice board in the Mess Hut. Not from a work point of view - just to see who
had been discharged under "Paragraph 11" - the regulation concerning ATS who
were pregnant! Many of the girls became GI brides and from news received over the
years, most of them were very happy; but some ended up in very different
circumstances than they had imagined. We'd all been brought up on Hollywood
films, where everyone seemed to have a better life style and even poor people had
marvellous kitchens! But soldiers came from all states - not just California or New
York, and not all of them had money or a good job back home. Some girls found
they were living in poor conditions in small towns, or even in the hills of the more
rural states and gave up and came home to England.
Back to work.
The training at Trowbridge had now been stopped because of bombs that had been
dropped on the barracks, and the ATS were now being trained at Douglas in the Isle
of Man. By this time, Beaumanor had the full complement of operators - No 1 Wing
at Quorn, and No 2 at Garats Hay, in Woodhouse Eaves so it was decided to open a
new Intercept Station elsewhere. The place chosen was Queen Ethelburga's School
for Girls in Harrogate - the occupants having moved elsewhere. Unlike Beaumanor,
where civilian staff had set up the system before the ATS arrived, Harrogate would
be completely run by the ATS from the beginning, with, for the first time, ATS
Operational Officers. What they needed now, were experienced Sergeants and
41
Corporals to organise each watch - and the only place where they could be found
was Beaumanor.
This obviously had an effect on our two Groups; Corporals were made up to
Sergeants and so on down the line. This meant quite a shake-up, not only for
promotion, but also in the movement of some operators between Quorn and Garats
Hay.
In the spring we noticed that gradually the troops were moving out and in May came
the dreadful day. The oncoming watch had long faces, no smiles or gum! They had
gone, overnight - what were we going to do without our Yankees! We would soon
found out!
42
Chapter 4
Garats Hay – No 2 ATS Y Wing, May 1944 – June 1945
On 26 May 1944, I was promoted to Acting Unpaid Corporal and posted to C Watch
in No 2 'Y' group stationed in Nissen huts in the grounds of Garats Hay. This was the
name of a delightful Regency style house in the pleasant small village of Woodhouse
Eaves, almost at the gates of Beaumanor. We could now walk to work - so no more
singing in the troop carrier driven by the manic Red.
After two years living in a house and sharing a room with two other girls, I was now
back in a Nissen hut and it felt quite strange - no nice quiet moments. Because of
our awkward shift times, restricted off duty hours, and the great secrecy about what
we did, we became like a large family. Yes, there were differences of opinion and
freely spoken comments, but I can't remember any really bad rows. But certainly
lots of laughs. You couldn't keep secrets - we knew all about each other - when
Mum wrote, what brothers were doing, who was the latest boy friend.
43
It was more companionable, as we had a really nice bunch in our hut; I can't
remember all of them, there was Tarn Williams, the little Welsh girl with, on
occasions, a rather a spiteful tongue, but never really nasty. Lilian Barker and Gussie,
very friendly and amusing Northerners, and Janet, a rather strange girl who seemed
to take a great fancy to me, putting her arm around my shoulder whenever I was
nearby, which I found very embarrassing! I remember coming back from a 48-hour
pass spent celebrating my 21st birthday, and finding cards displayed on both sides of
the bed and presents in the middle. They were a great bunch of girls!
Peggy was also posted to this C Watch which was great - perhaps the Powers That Be
thought we would be lonely. We were known by the other occupants of the hut as
'The Inseparables' Although we often went out in groups, most girls had one special
friend; these days we would have been suspected of being Lesbians, but honestly I
don't think any of us would have known what the word meant - I know I didn't. As
one girl said, at a later reunion - if someone had said Rape I would have thought they
meant cattle food! Ah, what innocents we were - well, some of us, at least to begin
with!
The work in J hut was more interesting and of course, by now we knew what we
were doing - though not what happened to our messages after they left us.
If I remember correctly after all these years, the sets on the left hand side of the hut
covered the SS Panzer Groups on the Russian Front, Police Groups in major towns,
especially in the Ruhr and at the back a few odds and sods - individual stations,
which included weather stations I think. The right hand side covered groups on the
French coast and inland, including the Normandy area, down to the Pas de Calais and
the Atlantic Seaboard
There had also been a change in the way we covered the groups. Up to now we had
worked in a random way, rarely staying on one particular group for more than a
week or two. The Powers That Be decided that it could be an advantage if the same
operators covered a group for at least a month or more. In that way we could
44
become very familiar with both the system and possibly the individual German
operators. Like typists and pianists, everyone has a different touch, or something
that gives their performance an originality, and so it was, quite often, with senders of
Morse. This, though we didn't know at the time, was to be a terrific help to us in the
near future.
At the time I joined them, it was much quieter than I hut, where the Italian Campaign
was in full swing. At the beginning of 1944, there was no actual fighting in France,
apart from some sporadic bursts of activity caused by small raids - and of course the
big event of Dieppe. Most of the really active stations were the large towns,
particularly in the Ruhr area, which were covered by the Police Groups. They worked
a different system from 'STAR', as there was no actual Control, and each station was
individual although they had links to other stations, particularly Berlin.
I started on one of the Police Groups, which were always very busy on the evening
and night shifts because of continual bombing raids on the main towns. With the
later daytime raids by the American Flying Fortresses it became almost a round the
clock operation. The main towns my group covered were Hamburg, Hanover, Essen,
and I think Bremerhaven. One night, on Hanover it was frantic, there were two of us
hard at it and we took turns in taking the message or the log. I was logging at the
time when suddenly one of the stations broke procedure and gave an uncoded
message in Klartext - Clear text. I called our supervisor, who understood German he said that the sender was saying that they had run out of water because the
bombing had caused a 'Fire Storm'
I think I spent about two months on these groups before being moved to one of the
sets covering the SS Panzer Divisions on the Russian Front. They were known as the '
Vulture' network and used the STAR system with a control and outstations. They
were a pleasure to take, not only was their discipline very strict, but the way they
sent their Morse was first rate, and very very fast!
45
Someone stuck a map on the set, from, I think the Telegraph, which showed a battle
line that the Germans were defending. We recognised the towns as being the ones
where our particular Division was operating (we got very personal over our groups!).
I can remember some of the towns - Kiev, Dnepropetrovsk and Kharkov- where the
outstations were based and they became ‘part of the family'.
In this group everyone was immaculate except for one station, where the operator
had a curious sort of sound - we called it a wobble. Very slight, but quite distinctive
and further more he was always a fraction late in answering the Control. This was
considered very bad and Control sometimes sent him another call with an addition
of QZY - 'nothing heard'. All the operators who covered this group knew him as
Wobbly Willie - always in trouble. When they sent their closing down codes as they
retreated, we'd cross off each town, but we then had to keep our ears glued to the
set to pick them up again when they set up another network in a different location.
Wobbly Willie was a great help!
Off duty was a bit different from Quorn, not quite so easy to get a bus to
Loughborough or Leicester, but it had other qualities. The food had been quite good
at Quorn, but here it was even better. The cooks were first class - no Geordie to
shout at us when we wanted more tea! We had plenty of salads, with chopped raw
cabbage, dried apricots and apples as well as fresh fruit. One of the cooks made
superb pastry - we all looked forward to her apple pies.
As we were living in huts, life was not quite so informal as at Quorn. Every two
months we had Kit and Hut Inspection, when we had to lay out all out clothes in a
precise pattern on the bed, with the bedding made up in the correct Swiss Roll
manner. An officer would walk up the hut checking that everything that should be
there was - apart from stuff on and at the laundry. With luck she wouldn't be too
fussy and pick up any of the clothes. Most of us had cut off the long legs of the khaki
knickers - the 'passion killers' and sewn the bottoms so that they resembled French
knickers, so much sexier! I'm sure the Officers knew, but turned a blind eye most of
the time.
46
The stores were in the old stables of the house and here we could exchange worn
out uniform and collect our packets of sanitary towels each month - which someone
had discovered were extremely good for cleaning the stove in the hut. You could get
a really good shine on the iron, necessary for when we had the Kit and Hut
Inspection. One day, the stores orderly came in as this process was going on and
nearly had a fit. Bursting with indignation she told us that we should be ashamed to
use them for this purpose - they were given to the ATS by Lord Nuffield! The
Nuffield Foundation - named and financed by Lord Nuffield, the maker of Morris Cars
- supplied quite a lot of creature comforts to the Forces. This gave rise to us asking
for a couple of packets of 'Nuffields' saying 'Gawd Bless yer Lordship' as we signed
for them.
Like everyone else in England we were expecting the Invasion to start fairly soon and
there did seem to be a little more traffic on the French coast. We had been told that
all leave, apart from Twenty four-hour passes, was cancelled for an unspecified time.
On the morning of 6 June, Peggy and I were coming back from Leicester to go on the
afternoon watch. For some reason - over-sleeping I expect, we had to rush to get
the bus and had not heard the radio that morning, so didn't realise the significance
of the planes flying overhead with double white stripes on each wing. When we got
to Quorn the rest of the watch told us that the invasion had started that morning.
We wondered how it would affect our work.
Going into the set room, everything seemed more or less as normal - more traffic
than usual on the Normandy groups - and the Pas de Calais was quite busy. The
Police groups were very busy, obviously lots of raids going on, but we were used to
this since the start of daylight bombing.
About an hour into the watch, everything started working; even the odd groups at
the back seemed to have something to natter about. We know now of course, that
Hitler refused to believe that the Normandy landings were the real invasion forces
and still expected Pas de Calais to be the actual site.
47
For the next few weeks we had a particularly difficult time, as the Army groups
changed over to random call signs instead of the ones we knew. We had to try and
recognise the sending style of the operators and connect their call signs with a new
station. Another little dodge the Germans thought up was to change frequencies
without warning.
Sometimes only one station would change and if you were
working on your own without a partner, you could end up listening with two sets of
earphones to two separate stations - all good fun! Luckily the Police networks kept
to the same routine. Most of the groups were busy, even on the dreaded night
watches; it might have been exhausting, but at least it made the hours pass quickly
The fact that we had been covering the same groups for several months now paid
off. We would chase around the dial taking down every scrap of Morse we heard in
the hope that it might be our station. When we recognised a familiar style of
sending - and it was surprising how often we did - we'd give a loud 'Got it'. There
was pressure from BP to get as many of the new frequencies and call signs as
possible and even our usually calm and helpful supervisors were affected.
I
remember one girl saying she had lost her station and the Super saying ‘well bloody
well find it' - not his usual response, but indicative of the stress we were all under.
On 15 June I was made up to a full Corporal - and more money! The other Corporal,
Molly Cavanaugh and I shared duties off watch. We were responsible for collecting
applications for leave and getting them signed by the Officer. Also for making out
the rota for cleaning the huts - not including ourselves of course. We had to see that
everyone went on watch on time and at least looking as if they were awake.
Another job that Molly and I shared was working 'Search' - on the No 1 set in the
front left hand side of the hut. This entailed checking on any stations that had fixed
CQ times; we'd pick them up and look round to see if the operator concerned had
got them - she usually raised her hand if OK. We also had to check all the other
traffic to see that nothing was being missed. To fill in any spare time, we searched
the dial to see if we could spot anything unusual, it made a break from continuous
Morse. If any operator was having difficulties with the signals being too weak, we
48
had to pop into the aerial room and try another aerial. Neither of us had much idea
of what we were supposed to do. I used to pull the plug out and plonk it in
anywhere hoping for the best. If it wasn't any better I'd probably put it back in the
original aerial -usually it worked.
One afternoon, I was spinning the dial and came across some clear text - I thought it
looked like German but I didn't get a call sign or anything to identify the station. The
supervisor had a look at the message and said he thought it was Dutch and spotted a
word that meant parachutes and thought that Arnhem, spelt with a capital first
letter was probably a place name. Looking it up in the atlas he discovered it was a
place in Holland. I never did find out what the message contained as it was whipped
away to Control immediately - going by despatch rider not teleprinter.
One of the girls in our watch had fantastic hearing - her name was Gladys but we
called her Bat's Ears because she could get almost all messages even with extreme
interference or jamming. She was covering a Division somewhere in the Ardennes
area for some time and one morning, soon after Christmas, I think, she was told to
expect a very important message sometime during our shift. The supervisor said it
would be a personal message from Hitler and he put another three operators on the
same frequency to get maximum coverage. A message did come through - very fast
and horribly jammed, but Bat's Ears got over ninety percent - the other three could
only manage about half. The message was rushed out to the despatch rider and
three weeks later Bat's Ears got a mention in Northern Command Orders for being
awarded a Good Service Certificate.
We were never actually sure that it was a message from Hitler or if that was said to
make us more alert. However, recently, I saw a TV programme by Richard Holmes,
about the Battle of the Bulge. He said that a personal message was sent to Hitler by
the General in charge of the German Forces, asking for permission to retreat. Next
day a personal answer from Hitler was received, refusing the request. That obviously
was the message Bat's Ears got - so we were useful!
49
Apart from the pressure of work, many girls had boyfriends or husbands fighting in
Normandy and of course were very concerned. Unfortunately some of them did
become casualties. It was terribly upsetting when one of our watch, Joan Moderhak,
received the news that her husband John, a medic with the US Paras had been killed
at Nijmegen. She got immediate leave of course, and I was asked to escort her home
to Newcastle. By coincidence I had relatives there - an Uncle who had been
evacuated there in 1940. He had married and had three children and I was the first
person in the family to see them. It was an awful journey, poor Joan was sobbing,
the train was stopping and starting as usual, but the other people on the train were
very sympathetic.
Gone were the boring days and nights waiting for your station to come up, we were
all at full stretch whatever shift you were on, and stress was beginning to affect most
of us. Quite a few operators had nervous breakdowns and were given other jobs on
the station, which of course meant some watches were under strength and
operators often had to cover busy stations alone, without any back up. The worse
part for most of us was lack of sleep. Six hours of continuous Morse with jamming,
static, and pressure to get most of the message, made us so tired that we couldn't
relax and often only managed a few hours real deep sleep. Colds and minor aches
and pains seemed much worse than usual and the number on Sick Parade multiplied.
I was sent home on seven days sick leave and frightened the life out of my poor
mother. Usually, on leave, I arrived home, had some breakfast and was off to Town.
This time I went straight to bed and stayed there for two days. Mum was so worried
she got our doctor in. She'd told him I was in the ATS and he wanted to know what
job I was doing that had made me so exhausted! I think I muttered something about
taking on extra duties now that the soldiers were in France - he seemed to believe
me.
I went back on duty, but not for long. I was still going out with my Middy and one
evening we cycled into Loughborough to go to the cinema. We saw a war film called
'San Demetrio, London' - at least I saw part of it as quite suddenly I had severe
stomach pains and felt sick. After my repeatedly disappearing to the loo, we decided
50
to cycle to Woodhouse, but I had to stop several times to throw up in the ditch - very
romantic. Thinking it was food poisoning I called in at the Sick Bay. The medical
orderly decided I should stay in overnight and next day, still in pain and being sick, I
ended up in Leicester Infirmary. Diagnosed as appendicitis, I was operated on
immediately. It was all very straight forward, but Mum came tearing up to visit and
Ian brought me flowers.
Any member of the Armed Forces who went into a civilian hospital had special
treatment. The top man had to look after us himself - no getting fobbed off with the
houseman! In the next bed to me was a girl about my own age, who also had her
appendix removed. She was sent home after a week, whilst I stayed for ten days.
There was a certain length of time for staying in hospital after which I was sent to
recuperate for three weeks in a large country house just outside Leicester. The food
was wonderful; just what you needed to get fighting fit. For some reason, whilst
there, I decided to stop seeing Ian - perhaps he bored me. Or perhaps I was too tired
to care, I don't remember. I sent the poor chap a letter more or less saying Thanks
for the Memory and got an emotional reply saying I had broken his heart and ruined
his life.
After I recovered and was back on duty I was selected to go on a short, but intense
course (in off duty time naturally!) to get the highest grade we could reach, a B1. To
get this we had to take Morse at 32 words per minute, have a good knowledge of the
various systems used by German wireless groups, more Q codes and some other
technical things about radios. I enjoyed it as it made our work more interesting and
having passed - got more money!
It was after the invasion, that we got quite a few visits from top rank American,
French and British officers, including the C-in-C of the General Staff, Sir Alan Brooke
and- even higher - Princess Mary, The Princess Royal! Our watch was on duty when
she came round, with a retinue of top brass. She said a few gracious words to our
Sergeant, walked up the Set Room, looking bored to tears, waved a regal hand and
went out - it took all of ten minutes. She was, of course got up as Commander in
51
Chief of the ATS. I remember she had a beautiful complexion and very bright blue
eyes.
Peggy and I usually took our seven-day leave together and she would come home to
Mitcham with me. Leave always started after the 7pm to 1am shift and you were
supposed to go back to the hut and leave by an early train in the morning. Of course,
we did no such thing. We would book a taxi to pick us up at the gates of Beaumanor
to go to Loughborough Station. Here we would hide in the ladies loo, in case a nosy
woman MP came around, until the 2.am train arrived - rarely on time. It was really
eerie - steaming into the station, with no announcements of course. There were
small blue lights illuminating the carriages which were crammed to the gills, and the
corridors were full of sleeping bodies. With luck we could find a spot to sit on the
floor for the next four or five hours. We never went to bed but had breakfast and
then were off to make the most of our leave. We used to make a bee line for the
West End, particularly to the Nuffield Centre for Forces which was in Coventry
Street, just off Leicester Square - it was always full of service men and women of all
nationalities. Twice we managed to get into The Stage Door Canteen, the super
American Forces Club near the Ritz. You had to queue up for hours especially if
anyone really important was performing, like Bing Crosby, or Bob Hope. We only
saw two young singers - one was Julie Andrews - she was very good but we never
imagined she would become a great star. The other one was Petula Clark - who also
became famous after the war. Dancing with Americans both here and in
Loughborough was great fun and we became quite expert at 'Jiving' - it certainly
livened up the usual routine dances at the Streatham Palais!
It was whilst on leave that I experienced the 'doodle bug' as V1's were called. That
was when I was in Chelmsford staying with Joy for a week end in the Wrennery. We
were walking in the country just outside the town when one flew over very low - we
ducked as its engine cut out, but it fell some distance away. During that weekend we
talked about what we'd do after the war. Joy was going back to Mitcham Library,
but I had no idea what I should do. In spite of the 'Doodlebugs' the general mood
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was that the war wouldn't last very much longer and the papers were already talking
about a General Election that would take place directly it finished.
I had begun to take some interest in politics, mostly from reading Peggy's father's
books, published by Gollancz, the founder of the Left Book Club - with their very
distinctive bright yellow or orange covers. I wasn't sure that I was a dedicated
Socialist. Joy and I had discussed our political views in letters to each other and as
this would be our first opportunity to vote - 21 was the legal age then - we were very
serious about whom we should support.
We had similar views - socialists with a small ‘s’ rather than active supporters of the
Labour Party, and both absolutely adamant that we'd never vote Conservative (a
view I still hold). We were attracted by the ideas of the Commonwealth Party, which
had been founded by Sir Richard Acland and J B Priestly in 1942, when Sir Richard
resigned from the Liberals. We were in favour of its policy on public ownership of
land on moral grounds - and impressed when Sir Richard gave his own estate to the
National Trust as an example. It was fairly leftist in its views and seemed exactly
what we'd been looking for. Unfortunately, in spite of our votes, the party was
wiped out in the General Election at the end of the year. The Labour Party got a
landslide victory. But, we'd done our duty as citizens, upholding the legacy of the
Suffragettes who got women the vote.
One month later the V2 was launched. I was home on leave and coming down the
stairs heard a tremendous bang and the loft hatch lifted up. I had no idea what had
happened until my Mother said it were one of the new bombs and much more
terrifying than the V1. There was no warning whatsoever and we heard later that it
had fallen on a school in Tooting causing many casualties.
We were much less busy - stations were disappearing fast and we realised that that
our work was coming to an end. But we operators had our little moment of personal
glory. On the morning shift of 7 May, the watch going on was told that at a certain
hour that morning a message would be sent to all German stations. When the
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message came through it was in plain language in English. It was the Unconditional
Surrender, signed by General Jodl, Admiral Doenitz and General Keitel. Ordering all
German units to cease active operations from 2301 on 8 May. All the girls were told
that they must not divulge this information to anyone, even girls on other watches as
it had not yet been accepted by the Allied Headquarters.
When we heard the announcement that the war was officially over on 8 May and
there would be no watches that day, most of the girls disappeared - the majority
hitchhiked to London to celebrate. Peggy and I went to her home in Leicester. We
returned the next day but some of the girls didn't come back for three or four days
and the Powers That Be were not pleased, but of course they couldn't punish anyone
for celebrating the end of the War!
As far as the Germans were concerned, our work was more or less over now. We
were still intercepting some networks that were clearing up, along with a couple of
Russian stations, but the urgency was over and all the married women were to be
released immediately. It is a dreadful thing to say, but life was really a bit of a bore.
At the end of May, a notice went up asking for volunteers for a Japanese course at
Kedleston, an Intercept station at Derby, followed by a posting to Bangalore in India.
I decided that was what I wanted to do - go abroad at last. I applied, was accepted
and broke the news to my parents, who were not actually overjoyed, but accepted
my decision.
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Chapter 5
Kedleston Hall – No 7 ATS Y Wing, June – August 1945
On 17 June, about a dozen operators from Beaumanor arrived at Derby station and
were picked up by the good old Troop Carrier and taken to our new Station, in the
grounds of Kedleston Hall. This was a magnificent house built in the eighteenth
century by Robert Adams for the Curzon Family. We lived in Nissen huts down by
the river which flowed through the grounds - the Trent, I think it was.
There were about thirty operators on the course and we were told that we were to
learn Japanese Kana Morse and Urdu. I can't remember much of the Urdu lessons,
but the Morse was terribly difficult. All the Squad were experienced operators, used
to all conditions and styles of transmissions, but we weren't prepared for the
Japanese Experience!
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Kana is, roughly, the sound or syllables of the Japanese alphabet, which is basically
the usual twenty-five letters, A to Z. But - each letter can have two further syllables
added to it. These are symbols for punctuation and procedure, the use of which can
alter the meaning of the message. So we now had to contend with a seventy-five
letter alphabet - each letter could have either 'han' or 'han nigory' attached. It is
difficult to explain how this worked but the illustration I have included might help!
Also, unlike the German Groups they sometimes sent all- figures messages.
Normally this would have been great, as figures have more dots and dashes than
letters so you have more time to get the message down. Not the wily Japs! They
used a shorter version of the normal characters, for example the number 1 in
ordinary Morse is dot dash dash dash. The Japs sent dot dash and abbreviated all
numbers. Naturally they could send these all- figure messages at a terrific speed, far
quicker than we had ever taken before. By the end of a day of this stuff we were
brain dead!
Our training was under the instruction of Sergeants of the Royal Corps of Signals, a
jolly lot of old campaigners from India and the Far East. They lightened our classes
with hair raising stories of life in India, especially about the huge spiders and
poisonous snakes we'd find, as well as rather lurid stories of the temple statues and
their own personal sexual encounters! Most of us enjoyed listening to their tall
stories, but someone complained and they were told to stop any chatter during
classes, which was a pity.
Peggy came to Kedleston, but returned to Garats Hay before the course really got
started. She had met Elmer, one of the American Paras, and was expecting to get
engaged in the near future, so going abroad had no attraction for her. (Sadly, it
didn't happen for her)
I was lucky in having relatives in Derby; my father's youngest sister Ada and her
husband Jack Easton, who worked at the Celanese factory. Not having any children
56
of their own, they adopted me whilst I was at Kedleston and I spent most of my offduty hours at their house.
Some of the Curzon family were living in the house and one afternoon, several of us
went to look at the State Apartments, We were taken around by one of the
daughters, Lady somebody, we never knew her name, who was quite pleasant to us
'proles', but we were more intrigued by the 'tide-mark' on her neck where her makeup finished! In the house were dresses, uniforms and mementoes of earlier Curzons,
especially the one who had been Viceroy of India. The dress that his wife wore for
his installation - or whatever it was called - was made of thick white satin with
peacock feathers sewn all round the skirt and - a fabulous creation.
By the beginning of August we were almost at the end of the course, and someone
said that our tropical kit was in the stores. Although there had been some dropouts those of us who had stuck it out felt quite confident that we would pass our final test
and soon be on embarkation leave before sailing to sunny India. I can't remember
the date exactly, about the seventh I think, when Pam and I walked down to the
recreation hut to see the morning papers. I can still see the banner headline in the
Daily Express, "Secret Bomb dropped on Japan - War to be over in days" I am afraid
our response was not jubilation. We turned to each other in dismay - 'Why now?
Why couldn't they wait for a month? All that work for nothing '!
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Chapter 6
Garats Hay – No 3 ATS Y Wing – September 1945 – February 1946
On 7 September I was back in Garats Hay and working out when I could expect to be
demobbed - about February I thought.
I can't remember how we spent our time - I don't think we did night duty any more
and of course our numbers were getting smaller. I believe we did cover some
Russian groups, but everything was quite relaxed. The only people working hard
were the Admin staff, who had to keep us occupied as much as possible. We were
visited by chaps from the Army Education Unit, who gave us talks on politics - with a
rather left wing slant - and advice about careers and what was on offer from a
grateful Government.
We had a visit to the local Assizes, and attended a Council Meeting in Loughborough,
which, according to the local paper, was very stormy and a councillor deplored such
behaviour when ATS were visiting! We went on a conducted tour of the John Lewis
department Store in Leicester, where I saw a most unsuitable hat which I
immediately bought. It was pillbox shape in black velvet, with a short veil and a
curling feather and cost 3 guineas! Starved of nice clothes for five years, I thought it
was the most sophisticated and glamorous thing I'd ever seen. Back in the hut
everyone tried it on - it went well with Khaki! I was never brave enough to wear it
out, but kept it as a memento of those days.
We all had individual interviews with the Careers Officer (like being back at school). I
didn't know what I wanted to do and had no previous job to go back to. It was
suggested that if I continued in the ATS, I would be recommended for Officer
Training, with the prospect of service overseas. Though I liked the idea, I didn't want
to commit myself to further years in the ATS. This feeling was accepted by the
authorities as being quite normal and I was told I could take my discharge and then
seriously consider what I wanted to do. If I changed my mind within six months of
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leaving, I could go back as a Corporal and be posted to OCTU immediately - a fair
offer I thought.
There are completely blank periods which, try as I might, I can't recall. Girls' names,
places we went to, what some of the billets were like, and other people at
Beaumanor and Garats Hay. All buried deep in the subconscious I suppose.
Some things I haven't mentioned during my account - like the three American
Intelligence chaps who were stationed at Beaumanor from 1944 until they went back
home at the of 1945. Forbes Sibley, Fred Allred and 'Mac ' a charming trio, one of
whom, Mac, I think, was reputed to have a little black book containing the names of
all the girls he'd been out with - a good sample from each watch, and that includes
both Quorn and Garats Hay! Forbes went back to Michigan University to study
chemical engineering, Mac became a teacher at a college in North Carolina, but
nothing further was heard of Fred.
From 1941 until 1945, there had been a Beaumanor Staff Magazine. Run by, and
with contributions from, all staff at Beaumanor. The original cover had a drawing by
one of the contributors, with just the letter B.S.M. In March 1944, after considerable
pressure from the ATS, the cover was specially designed to incorporate both ATS and
Civilians. We paid sixpence a month for the magazine, which had some very good
articles, poems, drawings and news of promotion, marriages, and births. As the
General Election neared, it even had articles on political opinions. But, of more
interest, was all the Beaumanor gossip - who was going out with whom? Who had
been fined for failing to have a bicycle lamp? Who was Mac's latest?
With the end of the war, it was suggested that a sort of Old Boys and Girls
Association should be formed, so that Beaumanorites could keep in touch with each
other and arrange re-unions and meetings. Called the Woygian Association, with an
elected committee of volunteers to run it. The membership subscription would be
two shillings and sixpence a year, and there would be a quarterly magazine. The first
Woygian appeared in autumn 1945, with about six hundred subscribers and
continued until the last issue in summer 1949. By this time the initial interest had
dwindled and subs were hard to collect.
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It was a unique magazine and a very important part of life at Beaumanor. Luckily,
most copies have been found and been bound into one volume- for old
Beaumanorites it's compulsive reading.
On 23 February 1946, I left Beaumanor for the last time, to go to Guildford Barracks,
the No 1 Training Centre for ATS, where I was physically discharged from the ATS. I
say physically, because according to War Office, I were posted to the Y list on that
day, relegated to the Unemployed List on 21 April and formally discharged - services
no longer required - on 1 April 1954. By that time I was married with two children!
I think we all kept our uniform, except the groundsheet and kit bag. We also kept
our AB54 together with our discharge document giving the dates of our service,
conduct report and details of how to apply for any medals to which we were
entitled, plus a railway warrant to our home town. I have no recollection of that day
at all - not even walking out of the gate as a 'free woman'
So ended another period in my life - five years during which, like thousands of other
women, I lived quite apart from ordinary life. I had been seventeen and a half when
I left home - I was now two days away from my twenty-second birthday. From living
in very close proximity to thirty other women, I had to adjust to being one person in
a family of three. I had my own room, freedom to choose what I would wear,
(clothing coupons permitting) and twenty four hours each day in which to do exactly
what I wanted, not what the Army decided. How would I cope in this strange new
world?
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Chapter 7
Some extracts from staff magazines
BEAUMANOR STAFF MAGAZINE
Spring 1946
Departures
On February 23rd; Cpl Gwen Sidwell who has gone to assist her father, landlord of
the 'Queen Victoria' at Cheam Surrey.
THE WOYGIAN
Autumn 1946
"What's he doing now1
Whilst on the subject of inseparables, Peggy Cracknell has decided against going to
America to marry and has a few weeks holiday at Gwen Sidwell's home. During
which time Peggy helped to solve the problem of staff shortages, she agreed to stay
permanently and is now doing her best to satisfy the needs of customers in the
private Bar, whilst Gwen copes with a similar task in the Dining Room. Under present
conditions, neither of them should be overworked. In fact I understand that they
spend most of their time sunbathing on the roof. They also see quite a lot of Pam
Denny, who lives in the vicinity and is at present housekeeping at home.
Summer 1947 - Marriages
Peggy Cracknell was married in Leicester on Christmas Eve to a young man whose
name I can't remember. He hails from North Cheam, where they are making their
home.
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Gwen Sidwell was married in North Cheam, Surrey, on May 17th to Mr Ronald Gibbs
ex-Paratrooper Sergeant. (Thanks for the Cake, Gwen.)
LOUGHBOROUGH MONITOR - 1946
March 28th
Beaumanor Estate to be sold - Picture of House on front page.
Sale necessary to pay death duties resulting from death of former owner Mr W
Curzon-Herrick on November 29th. New owner Col A.P.Curzon-Howe of Clifton
Castle, Ripon, Yorks. Sale will include whole of village of Old Woodhouse and part of
Woodhouse Eaves. During war years Hall used by section of the Civil Service while
other property in Old Woodhouse has been used to house detachment of ATS
APRIL 18TH
Mr T.P.Towler informed Loughborough Monitor this week that Brand Hill the
property in Woodhouse Eaves that he had presented to Loughborough Hospital to
be used as a convalescent home and known as Ellen Towler Convalescence Home,
has now been vacated by the ATS and is expected to be available for use by the
hospital during the early summer.
SEPT 21ST
Closing of Woodgate Forces Canteen Loughborough.
Dec 26th
Beaumanor Sale
Three quarters of estate bought by tenant farmers. Beacon Hill and Windmill Hill,
known as Bluebell Wood, withdrawn from sale and presented to the local Council.
Mansion - bought by the War Office - it is remembered that the Mansion was taken
over by a Radar Station during the war and considerable money was laid down on
equipment and permanent fixtures. It is still used as a Radar Centre and the War
Office have already stated that the building will be maintained in present state so as
preserve the beauty of its setting.
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