Authors: Rita Bradshaw
The Rainbow Years (33 page)
‘You won’t like the food, you won’t like your barracks, you won’t like the drill instructors and you sure as eggs won’t like your service undies, but I’ve heard all the gripes before and then some, so save your breath. Do we understand each other?’
A bus full of black, brown, red and blonde heads nodded in unison.
‘Good.’ The corporal allowed herself a grim smile. ‘Welcome to your temporary home in the back of beyond, girls.’
The back of beyond was right. As the corporal carried on speaking, Amy glanced out of the window at the snowy fields stretching either side of the narrow lane down which they were travelling. When she’d volunteered for the WAAFs she had expected to be detailed to one of the camps in or around London for her basic training, not one on the outskirts of Hull. The intensive bombing of recent months and the increasing intake of WAAF recruits had meant volunteers were sent to wherever beds were available, and she had landed up much further north than she would have liked. Not that it really mattered, she told herself in the next moment. She had joined up to do her bit and Britain winning the war against the Germans was the important thing, not personal issues. The last eighteen months had all been leading up to this and even now it seemed incredible how life had changed so drastically.
As the corporal talked on, Amy let her mind drift back to the moment when the reassuringly predictable life she’d led since moving in with Winnie had been shaken. Winnie’s Sunday roast had just begun to sizzle in the oven downstairs when they had heard Neville Chamberlain’s announcement that Britain was at war with Germany.They had stared at the wireless and then each other, the bright September sunshine outside the flat’s window out of keeping with the sombre news.
The first war measure had been the introduction of a blackout which was rigidly enforced by a civilian army of ARP wardens, and Winnie had immediately made an enemy of the warden detailed to their area, referring to him as little Hitler. Amy smiled to herself. Dear Winnie, she was going to miss her and her fights with the warden. Even now she could picture Winnie’s gleeful face when a few months after the war had started, the newspapers had reported that more than four thousand people had died in blackout accidents, compared to three members of the British Expeditionary Force being killed in action. Winnie had cut out the article and waved it under the warden’s nose every day for a week until the poor man had threatened to get the law on her. Then had followed Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain, and suddenly the inconveniences of the blackout and rationing didn’t seem worth complaining about beside the constant fear of invasion or aerial attack.
Amy’s eyes were on the bleak snow-swept scene outside the window but she wasn’t seeing it. She was back with Winnie on a gorgeous September afternoon the year before. There had been just a few fleecy clouds in the sky and the streets around the café had been full of Londoners enjoying the last of the summer’s sunshine, which had been good for business.
The café had been full and she had been humming to herself when she and Winnie, along with their customers, had been drawn out onto the street by the sudden explosion of folk shouting and pointing up into the sky. She would never forget the chill she had felt as she’d stood there with the sun blazing down. A great flotilla in V formation had gradually spread across the blue like a black rash, the scream of bombs following. The Blitz, that’s what the newspapers called it. And the planes had come every day from then on, over and over. How she hated them.
The bus jerked over a pothole in the rough road and everyone rose an inch or two before settling in their seats again.
That’s why she was here really, Amy thought, as she looked round the bus. That’s why she’d decided on the WAAF. She wanted to help Britain’s airmen fight the Luftwaffe, annihilate them as they had tried to annihilate everyone in London in those awful raids. The one at the end of December had cemented her decision to join up as soon as Winnie could get someone to help her in the café.
The Luftwaffe had known the Thames was at its lowest ebb tide that Sunday night, and they had purposely sent high-explosive parachute mines to sever the water mains at the beginning of their raid. The thousands of firebombs they’d dropped on the city had turned it into an inferno and even now Amy could hardly bear to think of how many friends and neighbours had been killed. One of Winnie’s sons and his wife and three children had been crushed to death as they had hurried to the nearest Underground station. A wall had fallen on them. Polly had been killed when her Anderson shelter had received a direct hit. Her husband had been fire-watching at the time and had come home to no wife and no home.
The bus came to a stop, bringing Amy back to the present. A sea of huts with the odd brick building standing out in the snowy vista beyond the camp’s gates was in front of them. The corrugated metal covering of the Nissen huts appeared less than inviting in the freezing conditions.
This thought obviously occurred to the girl at her side because in a small voice she said, ‘It looks pretty awful, doesn’t it?’
Amy smiled. ‘It might not be as bad as it looks. I’m Amy Shawe, by the way.’ She’d reverted to her maiden name after arriving in the south and had used it when joining up. She hadn’t mentioned her marriage simply because she did not think of herself as a married woman. Her old life was dead and gone; the years before she had moved to London were not something she allowed herself to think about.
‘I’m Gertrude Russ but everyone calls me Gertie.’The girl smiled timidly. She was pretty but to Amy’s eyes appeared very young; Amy doubted whether she should be here at all. The enlisting age was eighteen but it wasn’t unusual for girls to slip in underage as birth certificates weren’t required. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Likewise.’ As girls began to pile out of the bus hauling hefty suitcases or bags, Amy added, ‘We’d better fall in or fall out or whatever they call it.’
Gertie nodded. She looked to Amy as though she was about to cry, and the girl who had been sitting behind them must have thought this too because she said, ‘Don’t let ’em see you’re scared, lass, or they’ll eat you alive.’ She thumped Gertie bracingly on the shoulder as she spoke. ‘We’ll all stick together and you’ll be all right. The name’s Nell, by the way. I was supposed to come with me pal but she chickened out at the last minute, silly devil. I said to her, they’re going to bring National Service in for women sooner or later so you might as well volunteer now and choose where you want to be, and you can’t beat Air Force blue.’ She grinned at them and Amy, warmed by the northern accent, grinned back and introduced herself and Gertie.
Outside the bus they all stood shivering in the icy air while a service policeman who had been manning the gates checked their papers. Nell, who appeared to be a fount of knowledge, whispered, ‘This is one of the war-built camps, you know, so don’t expect much. The permanent stations have brick living quarters with central heating and all sorts, but we’ll be lucky if we get a tin hut to sleep in with a hole in the ground for the privy.’
Gertie looked so horror-stricken, Amy said, ‘There are some brick-built buildings. Perhaps we’ll be in one of those.’
Nell shook her head. ‘They’ll be the education block and gymnasium and parachute store, likely as not.’ She put a finger to the side of her nose. ‘Me sister joined up a few months ago and she come here. Coo, the stories she told. There was no water laid on when she was here, perhaps there still isn’t, and there was a mile or so of unmade road separating the huts from the messes an’ such. She said they used to sink up to their knees in the mud and half the girls ended up in hospital with pneumonia, and the other half pretended they’d got it ’cos they wanted to go home.’
‘I’m sure your sister exaggerated a bit.’ Amy caught Nell’s eye and nodded at Gertie, whose face was now as white as the snow banked either side of the road. ‘And look, this road’s a proper road. I’m sure they’ve made improvements since your sister was here.’
‘Aye, you could be right. She said they were still building parts when she came.’ Nell didn’t sound convinced. Then she added, a twinkle in her eye, ‘Mind, Beryl did say there were compensations. One airwoman to every five airmen was one of ’em.’
‘Right, girls, follow me.’
The corporal, who wasn’t nearly as tall as she had appeared whilst standing in front of them all on the bus, now strode off down the road, arms swinging, and as everyone hastily gathered up their things and hurried after her, there was no time for further conversation.
The next hours were a blur of activity during which Gertie stuck to Amy’s side like glue. After dumping all their bags in the education block, they filed into a room for a lecture about rules and regulations and correct procedures. Amy gathered from the other girls’ glassy stares that they had taken in as little as she had. After this they were herded here and there, signing this bit of paper and then that, and received their uniform from the clothes store, for which they had to queue for what seemed like days. Straight after this they were led to the cookhouse armed with their newly acquired irons (knife, fork and spoon), where they enjoyed a filling meal of bangers and mash followed by jam roly poly and custard. Then it was back to the education block where the same little corporal was waiting to lead them on the trek to their sleeping quarters.
They all struggled out into the freezing cold, dark night, weighed down with their bags had clutching their bundle of uniform and bits and pieces, utterly confused and demoralised. It was snowing again, the flakes whirling and cutting through the icy air like little stinging blades, and as half of the girls had arrived in high-heeled fashion shoes, there was plenty of slipping and sliding before they reached the first of the Nissen huts which were to be their sleeping quarters. Amy was just glad that since Nell’s sister’s time someone had laid decent roads round the camp.
The corporal stopped outside the first hut and read out several names. As the girls concerned stumbled into the hut, everyone else looked longingly after them before hurrying after the corporal who was on the move again. Five girls peeled off at the next hut and then six more at the one beyond that. Gertie was now looking extremely anxious although Amy couldn’t see her face very well.The snow gave a little illumination and the corporal was carrying a torch which she clicked on only to read from the list of names in her hand. ‘I hope we’re together,’ Gertie whispered. ‘Do you think she’d let me change with someone if we aren’t?’
Amy didn’t have time to reply to this before they had stopped again and the corporal read out, ‘Gertrude Russ, Amy Shawe, Rebecca Stamp, Anne Stewart and Nell Taylor.’ It was only then Amy realised they were being billeted in alphabetical order of their surnames. She had been too cold and weary to take it in before.
They filed past the corporal who immediately strode off, the remaining girls following her like chicks after a hen. Amy opened the door and they all stepped inside, lugging their cases after them.
A row of narrow beds, each with a locker beside it, stood either side of a black, pot-bellied stove. Some of the beds, the ones nearest the central stove, Amy noticed wrily, were already occupied. The remaining ones had a neat pile of pillows, blankets, sheets and mattresses on them. The temperature inside the hut wasn’t much different to the outside in spite of the cast-iron stove with its long flue.
‘Hello there.’ One of the girls who was muffled up to the eyebrows in a thick coat, scarf and woolly hat was sitting cross-legged on her bed eating an apple. ‘You must be the last few. We all got here this morning. Rum place this, isn’t it?’
Amy nodded. Well, it was.
‘Grab a bed.’ The girl waved her hand apologetically. ‘I’m afraid the only ones left are near the door.’
‘Aye, so we see.’ Nell dumped her things on one of the beds and then zipped open the huge cloth bag she’d brought with her. ‘Anyone fancy a wee bevvy before we turn in?’ she asked cheerfully, holding up a full bottle of whisky.
‘What a good idea!’ Another girl with a broad London accent jumped off her bed and made her way over to them. ‘Let’s have a party. I can’t think of anything better on our first night than a housewarming. I’ve got a box of chocolates I’ve been saving for my first night away from home in case I needed cheering up.Any of you others got any goodies?’
By the time everyone had contributed to the feast there was a decent pile of food and some bottles on the metal table next to the stove. Winnie had been positively paranoid that Amy was going to waste away in the WAAF, and the enormous rich fruit cake she’d insisted on pressing on Amy - which had practically doubled the weight of her case all by itself - was greeted with awed oohs and aahs by everyone present.
‘Blimey, lass!’ Nell’s mouth was visibly watering. ‘That’s a bit different to the eggless fruit cakes me mam’s been serving up at home. Your mam must have used up her rations for the month with that beauty, and look at the fruit in it.There’s more than a month’s worth of points there an’ all.’
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