We are working really hard getting in the potatoes – a whole large field of them – the tractor roots them up & we follow with buckets which we fill frightfully quickly & empty into a horse-drawn cart which keeps walking away, so one is always trying to keep up – and the buckets are very heavy. It has to be done before the bad frosts …
Fuel shortages meant that as the autumn of 1941 progressed, the large, draughty rooms at Breckenbrough Hall became increasingly cold; its occupants were only allowed one small coal fire in their bedrooms just before bedtime. To make matters worse, throughout their stay the eccentric Evelyn Samuelson had been rather less than welcoming to her sister and brother-in-law, and had been increasingly getting on the latter’s nerves. Once the essential farm work had been completed, David’s parents were more than ready to return to Weybridge. Back in her own home, however, Phyllis had little to distract her, and her letters to David during this period reveal the full extent of her anxiety over his safety and well-being, particularly once reports of the Libyan campaign began to reach England:
November 22nd
Darling Dave
As I write the battle of Libya is raging, & I can’t tell you how frightfully anxious we are about you. It was a great shock when it all started …
It is nice to be back in our own home, but I miss you both more here …
December 2nd
I always think of you when I’m in bed especially – it must be so awful never to have a decent night’s rest – when civilians talk of ‘being in the front line’ I’m afraid I become very rude indeed …
December 13th
How I long now to hear from you that you are safe somewhere. It is all I can think of – when people talk to me, half the time I have no idea what they are saying – they must think I’ve gone a bit bats!
January 2nd 1942
I’ve been having flu & am just up & feeling pretty mouldy. I do hope I’ll be all right by Sunday as Pamela is coming for a couple of nights. Her father is bringing her along to lunch – it is the last chance for her before joining the A.T.S. so I don’t want to put her off unless I’m really ill.
Dad & I are in a constant panic about you, darling – I don’t see how we can help it …
It was probably just as well for David’s sake that these letters never reached him, but were eventually returned to his parents unopened, their original envelopes having been stamped with the stark, uncompromising words: ‘UNDELIVERED FOR REASON STATED. RETURN TO SENDER. Addressee Reported Prisoner of War.’ At least Edward McCormick had new occupations to take his mind off the constant worry, as his letter to David written on Christmas Day 1941 explains:
I have just taken on the job of Senior Warden here … It is a nuisance for me as it will mean quite a lot of chivvying around and calling on people and arranging meetings etc, and in addition to this I am expecting to start work in the office of Vickers* on Monday. Office hours are 10–12 hours a day starting at 9 or perhaps 8. I don’t expect to enjoy it a bit … However, I feel that unless most of us try to put 99% of our energy and ability into winning this blasted war it will take a hell of a long time to win it, so I may as well try, regardless of how much I hate the effort …
In the event, Edward’s employment at Vickers kept being delayed as he was constantly thwarted by red tape; being an American domiciled in England he was technically an ‘alien’, and needed special permission from the Home Office, which was slow to come through. In fact this was probably a blessing, as during the early part of 1942 he was needed at home by his wife, whose illness went from bad to worse. Waiting for news of David was becoming increasingly unbearable for Phyllis McCormick, adding considerably to the severity of her illness.
* * *
At the beginning of January 1942, Pamela started a new, larger, one-year diary in a ‘page per day’ format. This allowed her to record more of her activities and feelings on each day than did her previous, cramped, diary with five days’ worth of entries on each page. On 1 January she had enough room to write not merely about signing up for the ATS and her concerns about her ear trouble that had recently recurred, but also – intriguingly – about the favourable impression that Major Tom Jago had made at the New Year’s Eve dance the evening before:
Went for my Interview and Medical for the A.T.S.! Rather a New Year. Passed and have to go to Honiton on the 16th for my month – and how – The officer A.T. was awfully nice and I put my name down for Radio location though anyone less logical I suppose you couldn’t find but if that’s hopeless perhaps can do camouflage. The medical wasn’t bad except for a wretched little ear man who thought I was swinging the lead and took no notice of my exma [sic] return and buzzing …
The dance last night was fun & I did enjoy it and Major Jago is very nice – poor man coming all that way and staying at the Old George. Hope he thought it was worth it. What ho she bumps.
This was perhaps the first time Pamela’s loyalty to David was put to the test. A couple of days later she records posting a letter to ‘Tom’, which evidently crossed one he had written to her, about which she wrote on 6 January:
There was a letter from Tom Jago waiting for me which was rather sweet of him as he hadn’t got mine. He’s going to Chelsea to live at home on the 12th because he’s got a job at Whitehall amongst the High Ups!! Well well well. Basil Hale rang up to ask me to a dance on Saturday at Stockton.
Thick and fast they come at last
If you don’t go working – blast!
Pamela’s opinion of Tom Jago swiftly changed as a result of this second dance. Her diary entry for the day in question, 10 January, was written in a fit of pique:
Went to a lovely dance at Stockton House … King Peter of Yugoslavia was there and it was in his honour more or less. Tom Jago was there!!!! He is the limit and I’m furious – he always laughs at me and yet he’s nice except that he needs someone like me to keep him on the straight and narrow because he ran off with another of those out of sheer hellers I think – well he goes on Monday to Whitehall & it’s probably a jolly good thing.
Tom Jago was to disgrace himself yet further in Pamela’s eyes by failing to turn up the next day at Ditchampton Farm, where presumably she had invited him by way of farewell before he left for his new job in London. On 11 January she wrote:
Tom didn’t come even though I asked him and dressed up in my best & only sort of thing. He’s a nasty bad wicked man and I feel furious with him …
Feel so cross with Tom after a letter like that. He’d lead anybody an awful dance if they let him – well he won’t lead me because he probably won’t see me again except I should like to just to get quite straight with him.
On Sunday 4 January, in between the two aforementioned dances, Arthur Street drove Pamela up to Weybridge for the long-awaited visit to David’s parents’ home on St George’s Hill, where she spent a couple of nights. Her diary entries chronicle her impressions of this visit, not all of them entirely favourable. It was clearly a very alien environment, and would have been her first experience of the privileged lifestyle of people who, in those days, enjoyed a sufficient private income not to be obliged to work for a living. Edward (Ted) was a slightly built, mild-mannered man, deeply averse to any kind of unpleasantness, and it would have been immediately clear to Pamela that his wife was the dominant force in the household, who demanded her husband’s constant presence and would have made it difficult for him to go out to work even had he so wished. The contrast between Pamela’s larger-than-life, hard-working, authoritarian father A.G. Street and her prospective father-in-law could not have been more marked.
January 4th Went!!! Pop and I had lovely drive up and went along the hog’s back. When we got to Weybridge we couldn’t find the house anywhere as St. George’s Hill is a vast residential sort of estate place. Pop rang up in the end and they came down in their car and then we went to Shaws & then to the Golf Club to lunch as domestic arrangements weren’t good or something. Pop went off at 3. Another man came to tea and we went
to cocktails at the tennis club. Shaws is a lovely house and a lovely garden but David’s dog [Rigo, a rough-coated collie] beats everything. He’s wonderful. They gave me the boys’ room which was sweet of them and were very kind. Oh it seemed so strange being here – echoes of David. I could imagine him here so well though but gracious how lovely it must have been before the war. I know now about his love of parties. You couldn’t help it here but somehow I seemed awfully dull.
January 5th Took Rego [sic] for a lovely walk except it is so lost-making here. He is a wonderful dog. Mrs M then came too, but Mr M cut down trees all day. He’s a funny man. I like her better than him because somehow he seems a bit ineffectual. I don’t think either of them are good enough for David which is terrible of me and I shouldn’t say it. Somehow though Mr M seems a bit lost in his own house. Mrs M is very talented – painted lovely portrait. Saw a wonderful settee David designed for his flat. Took Rego through Weybridge & everyone stopped and admired him. Also the soldiers + my red coat. We went quite well together though I say it myself. Went to an awful film which they thought quite good called Moon Over Miami …
January 6th Mrs McCormick was ill this morning and had to stay in bed so we couldn’t all go to London so he put me on the train and I came by myself. After I go to town it seems silly to go home with my wonderful London waiting for me so I tubed to Piccadilly and thought it was lovely. Went to Swan & Edgar and to Harrods for lunch & Fortnum & Mason. Caught the 2.50 home so went to the News Theatre at Waterloo. Mummy had a very bad cold when I got home but very pleased to see me & vice versa as it was a strain somehow without David …
Pamela was not to know it, but her stay must have been even more of a strain for her hosts, neither of whom had fully recovered from a flu-type illness, but had been unwilling to cancel Pamela’s visit since it was their last opportunity to entertain her at Shaws before she began working in the ATS. Both parents would have realised the importance of Pamela’s attachment to David for their son’s morale whilst he was serving overseas, and were doing their best to foster the relationship. After Pamela’s departure Phyllis McCormick’s illness took a turn for the worse, as family letters later revealed.
* * *
Following her return from her stay at Weybridge, Pamela spent her last few remaining days of freedom getting ready for her ATS induction course, with visits to the dentist, doctor and hairdresser and saying her goodbyes to various friends and family. A few days before her departure her orders came through, though in the haphazard way that such postings were being organised at the time, they were clearly not what she had been expecting: ‘January 10th My orders came. Ha! I’m going to Aldermaston and not Honiton after all.’ Finally, on 16 January, Pamela left Ditchampton Farm:
Nearly the longest day of my life. Left Salisbury at 12. Mummy & Daddy saw me off. Met a very nice girl at Basingstoke and we kept together. Got met at Aldermaston and arrived in a lorry – the most awful herding this way and that as we were issued with uniform & interviewed and head-inspected that night. Then we all got pushed into a hut called Ironside & that was that. Well where do we go from here!
Pamela’s diary entries for her time at Aldermaston paint a sketchy picture of what life was like for the new recruits, many of whom had never lived away from home before. They record friendships quickly made, sympathetic members of staff, but also the sheer drudgery and monotony of the daily routine and the homesickness shared by nearly all the course participants. Just like boarding-school pupils, the girls keenly awaited periods of leave or visits from family members. To boost their morale and provide entertainment, the girls were encouraged to take part in an amateur revue, which would take place towards the end of their period of training.
First of all, the girls were obliged to take an intelligence test, after which they were interviewed to establish their aptitude and preferences for different types of ATS duties:
January 17th Had the most awful Matrix test in the morning – apparently it finds out how much you have up there. Obviously I haven’t any as my head went round half way through. Just continuance of herding – an interview – said camouflage but I don’t think there’s going to be much hope somehow. Oh dear. Lor what a life.
Boredom and despondency quickly set in as the new recruits awaited the results of their tests: ‘January 18th Feel very depressed today somehow. Meals are the worst – hundreds of us just eating and eating. Nothing to do all day really except sit in the hut and mope. Pamela Pamela Pamela …’
How good or bad Pamela’s results were is unclear, but in her usual self-deprecating way she feared the worst:
January 19th Better day except until talk of employment this afternoon and as far as I can make out there isn’t any for me. Some people did wonders in that Matrix test but I must have been one of the also-rans – dud – I haven’t any brain at all. Shall I be a clerk or not. At the moment I feel anything to get back to Salisbury but perhaps it won’t be as bad as that I hope. My ears aren’t too good which is a curse. Oh dear – will it have been the right thing to do or not I wonder.
More military uniforms and other standard items of clothing were now being issued to the new recruits, and square-bashing became the order of the day: ‘January 20th Cannot remember very much except the usual drill I believe & issued with clothing etc …’
In light of her brief training at the Salisbury College of Art, Pamela’s first choice of occupation within the ATS was camouflage, where she hoped to put her artistic talents to good use. Failing this, however, her second choice was to become a clerk, which required a further competence test. Once again, Pamela doubted she had made the grade: ‘January 21st Took a clerks test which was hopeless at – was inoculated once more for tetanus – wrote to Mummy I believe. Parades, snow and colds …’
At the end of their first week the girls were allowed an outing to the nearest main town, a welcome respite from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the training camp:
January 23rd Went to Reading in buses – great event – like a Sunday school treat. Rang Mummy up which was wonderful. Raining now so snow is thawing thank heaven. Was told today that have passed the Clerks test so if I can’t get to the camouflage school shall probably have to start by that. I’d sooner than stay here which am terrified of.
The main feature of Sundays at Aldermaston was the church parade, for which the girls had to appear at their smartest, shoes and uniform buttons shining brightly. Evidently family members were encouraged to attend, and on the first occasion Pamela had hopes that her parents might have been able to make the journey: ‘January 25th Terrific church parade – all spit & polish. Nice day. Wish really Mummy & Pop could have come. Joan [a new friend who lived not far from Wilton] and I are just terrified of being sent to Strathpeffer.’* By now the girls had settled into a familiar routine, one day being more or less indistinguishable from the next: ‘January 27th Day after day – really can’t remember very much except the continual parades and lectures & fatigues. One day is very much like another with hurry up Platoon III.’
Pamela evidently performed better at the clerks’ test than she gave herself credit for; on 30 January she wrote: ‘We were finally approved today. I’m a clerk with camouflage in view – terrific to do. It is all right about my out of bounds pass for Sunday. Whoopee.’
Pamela keenly awaited her first Sunday visit from her parents, but the fates were against her. The winter of 1941–42 was another exceptionally cold one, and on waking on the morning of Sunday 1 February, Pamela discovered that the weather had done its worst:
Snow!! Snow!! Inches of it. It is 10.20 and am just going to ring Mummy up because I don’t think they can possibly come. So disappointed – just when everything was all right. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. What a life. Sunday depression & nothing to do.
Fortunately Pamela had a couple of treats in store. She was now due a weekend’s leave, and the girls’ show would shortly be staged:
February 4th Went down village with Joan and visited the Holmwoods – rang
Mummy as our leave is definite D.V. – lovely. Called for washing. Had supper … then went to a rehearsal of our show … or praps it was last night – doing a swing number back row of chorus. Route march this afternoon – absolutely weird, sang songs etc.
February 6th Very excited about tomorrow. Miss Rush came to our rehearsal and I had to get up and do my unrehearsed dance – it was a hoot – I mean I was awfully nervous – hope it was all right.
The next day Pamela began her eagerly anticipated weekend’s leave, timed to coincide with her mother’s birthday:
February 7th Mumms came!!!! + Noble [the Streets’ foreman] took Joan and I home and she went on to Shaftesbury. Wonderful … Aunts, Vivi, me celebrated her birthday by chicken dinner. So sorry about Pop [Arthur Street was away on BBC business] but he’s hoping to get home tomorrow.
Pamela’s entry for the following day was significant in terms of her next wartime occupation:
February 8th Major Seago and another boy (air force) came to tea to see my drawings. I’m sorry Daddy asked him really as I could have quite well gone down and he was terribly off-hand and snooty and asked for landscape paintings which I didn’t have. He didn’t seem to like anything including me and I thought he was going to cut up rough – however he offered me a 2 mths trial and went off and all the time I felt he thought he ought to but not that he wanted to – it was terrible. However. Had a lovely day and Pop returned to see me special on the 9.30 which was wonderful.
Farming, Fighting and Family Page 20