Farming, Fighting and Family

by Miranda McCormick

  We had a soldier friend staying with us last night. This morning she found his belt and kept trying it on and looking at herself in the mirror.

  I am taking her off to see a lady doctor soon. It is all rather difficult …

  For her part, Pamela continued to write to David as often as the rationing of prisoner-of-war airmail forms permitted. Her second letter was very much in the same vein as her first, but also refers to the time she spent earlier in the year at his parents’ home:

  Your mother has given me all your love and messages in the 2 letters she’s got – it has been so wonderful hearing & she has been marvellous about everything. Did you know I stayed with them in January? They were terribly kind and Rego* is quite the beautifullest dog I know. Judy [the Street family dog] is having puppies & I’m having one and calling it Rego too. Do you mind? It will be your only rival so you oughtn’t to. I hope this doesn’t sound silly but I know there isn’t anyone like you anywhere and never will be and I shall love you always …

  Like David’s parents, Pamela never knew which of her letters would get through to him or in what order, so their contents were necessarily somewhat repetitive. For example on 31 March she wrote:

  Darling, I got your first letter last week – it was so wonderful getting it – I’ve already replied to that at the time but in case you never get it please remember that even if you were at the North Pole and could only write once a year I would still love you just the same …

  Don’t please feel useless ever. If you think about everything you have done you can’t possibly and the war can’t last for ever. Hasn’t a lot happened to you and what a lot you’ve done in the last year … Darling I shall never stop asking you questions when I see you next except that as I said before I’ll probably be quite tongue-tied!

  As can be seen, Pamela’s letters all served the same purpose: firstly to assure him of the constancy of her feelings towards him, and secondly to make every possible effort to raise his spirits. Judging from David’s reply on receipt of Pamela’s first letter to him, she more than fulfilled this aim. On 8 May he wrote:

  Darling, I got your lovely letter last week & was terribly thrilled to hear from you after so long. Now I am just waiting for the next. I am afraid I can’t write to you every week as I am only allowed one letter and a postcard per week. Darling, Mummy & Dad write that you stayed with them in January. They say they loved having you & they seemed to like you very much – I don’t mean that that is surprising!! I hope you will go and stay with them again if you have any time to, and cheer them up. Did you like Shaws & Rigo? I am very fond of him. Did he frighten you? He looks rather like the big bad wolf! I expect you saw all those awful photos of me when I was a horrid fat little boy! I wish I had been there too! Darling, I never liked girls in A.T. uniforms before, but now I have changed my mind.* I think you must look very sweet. Is your hair still nice & long? I think about you such a lot. What are you doing? Is it fun or awful? I hate to think of all your letters wandering around the desert looking for me, when they can never find me. All my love till next time I write. Your David.

  Once Pamela received the news that David was safe, her life back at Wilton seemed to take on a different complexion. Despite the uncertainty about whether she would continue in the camouflage unit once her trial period was up, she appears to have enjoyed her work there more, even taking the occasional knock in her stride:

  March 10th Started making a super house for a model. Large like a doll’s house …

  March 11th Capt Allan came and damned my house as too large so had to start all over again …

  March 12th Started on suburban houses – at last they’ve got at what they want + scale …

  March 13th Vera and I very peaceably made houses … and as Judith & the Major’s away everything was wonderful …

  After this brief period of tranquillity, a note of alarm creeps into Pamela’s diary. On 18 March she wrote: ‘Awful. They rang up and asked if I could go on a Clerks course for all the new girls in the Command, so Seago said yes & I think it is probably the end of me and camouflage …’ The course in question began the very next day, and Pamela did not enjoy the experience: ‘Started my course at the Town Hall. Simply terrific – lectures + lectures + lectures – awful. Wretched exam at the end. Oh dear oh lor.’ After a further day or two of lectures Pamela sat another exam which, according to her diary, ‘wasn’t too bad’. This was just as well, because on 27 March the axe finally fell:

  Have got the sack … It isn’t surprising really – I felt it coming for ages. It’s a pity but somehow I never fitted in – always felt awkward & I suppose my work is pretty rotten all told. Hope this doesn’t mean my exit from Wilton. However – the world is what it is – quite a new experience for me – hope it isn’t the first of many, though …

  Pamela’s rather untypically philosophical reaction to her dismissal may have been because another cheering event had recently taken place. On 14 March her parents gave her a belated birthday party, which according to her diary entry went extremely well:

  Had the most wonderful 21st birthday fling. Sybil, Kay, Phil, Joan M … Mrs Sivewright + Sue Ramsay and 4 awfully nice men she brought … Major Dickson came + Philip Man & friend. It all went with a bang I think – it seems all wrong giving one but it was nice. Mummy provided marvellous eats …

  Pamela would have been further cheered during this period by having received more news of David in the form of two letters from Phyllis McCormick, and on 25 March a letter from David himself:

  Letter from David! Wonderful but he’s so depressed – the hospital must have been awful – everyone there with wounds & things. I think the dysentry [sic] makes you feel like that but he talks of feeling perfectly useless and my having to forget him – oh this wretched war – if only I could do or get somewhere … What a pity you can’t fly to Italy in disguise or something …

  Despite ‘getting the sack’, Pamela was still obliged to work out the remainder of her trial period in camouflage. However, the atmosphere seems to have become more relaxed, with a marked change in Ted Seago’s attitude towards her:

  April 1st Major S … was v. sweet to me and I don’t feel so bad about it …

  April 4th Making some quite nice tanks for a change …

  April 8th Seago has been simply sweet to me this week … admired my tanks & tractors no end – isn’t it funny …

  If Pamela’s final days in the camouflage unit were relatively peaceful, the same could not be said about life back at Ditchampton Farm. The conflicting demands of his various wartime activities were taking their toll on Arthur Street. On 2 April Pamela reported in her diary: ‘Pop’s in an awful state of nerves.’ Arthur Street’s birthday was on 7 April, and the family were to have celebrated it with a lunch in Salisbury, but unfortunately events did not go according to plan: ‘ … had a blood test. Made me late for Pop at the Red Lion as we were to have had lunch … He went home in a temp and Mummy was cross – ’cos he’s very nervy now & anything upsets him.’ Realising that he could no longer fulfil his many obligations, Arthur Street had no option but to let some lapse. On 13 April Pamela wrote: ‘Pop seems a little better but has refused book & resigned Home Guard for 3 months … ’

  Arthur Street’s mood would not have been helped by the current progress of the war. During the first part of 1942 there were several notable setbacks for the Allies. On 12 March Pamela wrote in her diary: ‘The news is simply terrible. The Japs have got past Rangoon and seem to be everywhere.’ A month later her diary contains a similar reference: ‘April 13th The news is pretty ghastly & this India business is the limit. No co-operation & Japan at the gates – enough to give anyone the pip …’ Such diary entries would have echoed the feelings of all British civilians listening nervously to reports of military campaigns in the main theatres of war that spring, praying for more positive news.

  Notes

  * Ian Crombie was another newly commissioned officer in David’s regiment, whom the latter befriended
whilst stationed at Weston-super-Mare awaiting embarkation.

  * This was the Certosa (charterhouse) di San Lorenzo in Padula, near Salerno, dating back to the beginning of the fourteenth century.

  * David spelt his dog’s name ‘Rigo’; Pamela, not realising, spelt it ‘Rego’, also the puppy to be named after him.

  * ATS uniforms were generally acknowledged to be the least flattering of all the uniforms in the women’s services during the Second World War.

  Twelve

  A Lighter Load, a Hampered Harvest and a Moment of Rejoicing

  (April–December 1942)

  By late April 1942, the news may have been dire, with Axis forces gaining ground in all the main areas of the current conflict. For Pamela, however, everyday life had in many respects taken a turn for the better. David was now known to be safe for the immediate future, and finally she was about to start a wartime occupation that was well within her capabilities, whilst continuing to be billeted at home. Once she had left the camouflage unit, Pamela was able to enjoy a week off duty before starting her new job as a filing clerk in the Registry of Southern Command, situated in the cloisters of Wilton House – commonly referred to as ‘the dungeons’. This time she had no qualms about going back to work after a period of leave:

  April 23rd Went to see Pru [her commanding officer and friend, Prudence Perkins] & didn’t mind going back at all like nursing – am starting in the command tomorrow …

  April 24th G. Registry. Dear little man called the General looks after me – rather nicer than Cam because more people & not so cut off. I’m a terror – must have excitement …

  April 27th Work as usual – it is quite fun & they are all very nice … much better than nursing.

  Pamela’s diaries give little clue as to the exact nature of her day-to-day duties. The ‘Registry’ in service institutions collected and collated documentation of all their operations and activities. It has been suggested that some of the material that Pamela handled may have been of a highly classified nature, but it is doubtful whether she would have realised this at the time. Clearly Pamela felt happier in her new occupation at the Registry, buzzing with people coming and going, whereas the camouflage unit hut in North Street had been a comparatively isolated environment in which to work, with tensions between work colleagues making things even more difficult.

  Being less stressed at work, Pamela now had time to give consideration to another aspect of her life that was far from satisfactory. Regardless of the sincerity of her feelings for David, after such a long separation it was only natural that by now an attractive girl of her age would be missing male company. Pamela’s diary entries over the past couple of years, with many envious references to friends becoming engaged or married, make it clear that she feared being ‘left on the shelf’. In prison camp in Italy, David was also painfully aware of this, as a rather poignant excerpt from one of his letters later that year illustrates: ‘It will soon be two years now. We will have to discover each other again, for we must have both changed. I hope you will not have changed too much. Is England still the same? Are all the young people still getting married?’

  Pamela’s diary entry for 15 April contains the following lament:

  Oh lor this war – can it ever end – I’m 21 now and I haven’t done much with my life & somehow I seem to have missed things. If David were here perhaps it would be different but it’s a year now since I was kissed & it’s an awfully long time when you’re 21 …

  Such musings continue in her diary the following day: ‘Sometimes I feel I shall go mad. It’s terribly wrong really but this waiting I never was very good at it and I feel like a nun …’ As already noted, Pamela’s head had been temporarily turned by the dashing Tom Jago (now promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel) at the most recent New Year’s Eve dance. Although she had not seen him since his departure from Wilton to take up a job in Whitehall, Pamela had not forgotten this fleeting infatuation. Before her week’s leave between jobs she had taken the bull by the horns, leaving messages for him to say she would be coming to London that week with her father. This resulted in a rare treat, though the outcome proved a disappointment:

  April 20th Pop & I drove up. Tom did ring up after all my heart-searchings & we went to dinner at the Savoy & danced to Carol Gibbons* – he was very charming but looked rather over-worked. I think I must do things wrong somehow – he isn’t nearly as keen as he used to be … He did everything perfectly even to a brotherly sort of kiss on the doorstep – but gosh I must have lost something or else I’m just the type of girl men don’t want to kiss p’raps, except that he did at Christmas & I wouldn’t let him – why oh why do I miss my opportunities … it is awful to doubt about loving David but just right now I think I am very much in love with Tom, only that he isn’t with me a bit I know. What shall I do? Is it that I want the moon too much – after all a Lieut Col & the Savoy & Carol Gibbons should be enough for any girl …

  Back at Ditchampton Farm the next day Pamela continued musing along the same lines: ‘Have that awful depressed feeling when lovely things that might have been lovelier are all over … I wish I had the more come hither look …’ A week later this experience continued to bother her, though her disappointment now seems to have transmuted into anger. On 28 April she wrote:

  Ought to get a letter from David soon. Gosh how I should like to be kissed properly. Really I am cross about Tom – don’t know what was the matter with him & yet he was terribly nice – what did I do there – oh well …

  There are no further mentions of Tom Jago in Pamela’s diaries, but despite this experience, she was still on the lookout for male companions. Her entry for 28 April continues: ‘Feel terribly old but am taken for 18 by all the men in the office – gosh I wish I was … What a pity one didn’t think of no time like the present when one was younger – from henceforward it had better be my maxim.’

  Pamela had plenty of opportunities to live up to this maxim during the next few weeks, during which she attended a number of dances, the first being a tea-dance at home at Ditchampton Farm for various young people from the forces stationed locally:

  May 1st Our A.T. dance. Alan Billington, Sybil, Dinah, Henry, Gordon came … It went down well & we played planchette* afterwards & got thoroughly creepy … Alan is sweet. I do like him.

  May 5th Went to Larkhill dance … Great fun – all went in a lorry … being gay for a change. Met Alan in Salisbury …

  May 9th Went to Sukey dance with Peter Cash-Read, John Matthews, Sybil, Dinah … awfully good time – hit it up till 12.30.

  May 30th Went to Lady L’s & Mrs. Chamberlain’s dance with Peter & Alan. Alan is sweet & I like him awfully. It was terribly good & I had a lovely time – all the girls I’d ever known were there …

  June 13th Di Schreiber’s Sally Grey’s & Babs’ party … Alan was there – he was very sweet – I do like him – he tells me he’s fond of me but I don’t quite know how much he’s meaning – anyhow I told him about David …

  Early July saw the end of this more sociable period for Pamela, and the end of a potential romance with the aforementioned Alan Billington. On 4 July she went to one last dance organised by the redoubtable Jesse Sivewright; her diary entries for this and the following day read respectively:

  Phil [Pamela’s cousin] came … Peter & John Matthews who are going, Alan who is going & Sybil who is going so it was a breaking up of the clans and I don’t think I’ll go to another for ages now because I’m sick of the whole lot and don’t know what is the matter with me …

  July 5th Alan came to supper & I don’t like him a bit & I’m glad he’s going – how I ever could beats me – isn’t life strange …

  * * *

  Despite having temporarily relinquished his Home Guard duties, when it came to writing and broadcasting, Arthur Street certainly had no intention of lessening his load. Pamela’s diary abounds with references to her father going to London or other parts of the country to report on the current state of British agriculture. Anothe
r frequent task was giving lectures to the troops.

  During the early summer Pamela’s diary records two visits to the army base at Larkhill on Salisbury Plain to hear her father perform, which she evidently much enjoyed. The first of these entries reads: ‘May 17th Went to Larkhill & met Major Hanscombe & friend who took me to Brains Trust to see Pop. He was quite good and it was fun.’

  Entertainment was essential for the morale of Allied troops, both in training or awaiting deployment, or those already serving overseas. To this end the organisation ENSA (Entertainments National Service Association) was set up in 1939 with the express purpose of putting on shows of various kinds for the troops’ recreation. Many high-profile artists took part, such as the singer Vera Lynn, who was quickly dubbed ‘the forces’ sweetheart’. Not all entertainments were of such quality, however, and in some quarters the acronym ENSA took on a new meaning: ‘Every Night Something Awful’.