Minerva

by June Hirst

  ‘Attention! Stand by your beds.’ The girls did as commanded while the Sergeant walked up and down the hut.

  ‘Now remember what you were instructed about sexual diseases. There are dozens of sex starved airmen out there. Conduct yourselves with dignity in a respectable manner. Do not drink too much alcohol. Anybody found under the influence of too much alcohol will be confined to barracks next week when you are going to be allowed out. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes Sergeant,’ they all replied and Sergeant Benson banged the door behind her. They all collapsed onto their beds giggling.

  ‘I bet she’s got iron bloomers on,’ Vanessa said. ‘Come on girls, let’s go and see what gorgeous specimens we can discover.’

  ‘Just a minute wait, until I stoke up the stove. It will be cold when we return. I expect it will be midnight,’ Minerva said.

  When they arrived some of the other girls were already dancing. A three piece band was playing a quickstep. Minerva hesitated. Her thoughts of dancing with Martin in Heatonfield town hall were too painful. Tears welled into her eyes and her throat felt blocked. Victoria understood as they hesitated by the door. Vanessa led the way.

  ‘Come on everybody, best foot forward. Let’s get in there. Oh good Chalky White is behind the bar and he owes me some drinks, follow me.’ The girls self-consciously skirted along the side of the dance floor to the bar.

  ‘Hi there Vanni, port and lemon is it?’ Chalky asked.

  ‘Yes please, and you owe me more than one for cleaning the ablutions for you.’

  ‘Yeah I know. What’ll it be girls?’ Victoria was quite at home in a bar but Minerva had never tasted alcohol.

  ‘I’ll have lemonade please,’ she said. Suddenly the girls were surrounded by eager young men. Sergeant Jenkins pushed to the front smiling at Minerva. He took her arm and led her to a table.

  ‘You are looking very attractive this evening 3030 Wood,’ he said. ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’

  ‘Thank you, yes Sergeant,’ Minerva replied. The band had started playing a waltz as Sergeant Jenkins swept her onto the floor and many envious airmen watched in admiration.

  ‘You’re trembling. Are you cold?’ Jenkins asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Minerva lied, when in truth she was trying to push Martin from her mind. ‘I must get over him, please God help me’ she silently prayed. Jenkins held her closer and Minerva shivered as she remembered.

  ‘You really are cold love, but never mind you’ll soon feel warmer. It’s hot in here,’ Jenkins said.

  Minerva was really trying to overcome her emotional memories, as she floated around the floor in Jenkins arms. The tempo changed as the band played another quickstep. Jenkins was a good dancer and Minerva loved to dance. She remembered how she used to dance by herself in the Sykes’s kitchen.

  Just think about today. Remember the motto ‘Live for today’ she told herself and smiled at Jenkins. The Sergeant was captivated by Minerva’s beauty and he had already decided that she was a sweet innocent Yorkshire girl, who he would like to get to know. Her smile made his heart beat faster and he felt a stirring in his manly region.

  ‘Are you warmer now love?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh yes thank you,’ Minerva replied. She was used to being called love. Everyone called everyone love at home.

  ‘Shall we sit down for a while. May I put a shot of whisky in your lemonade, it will warm you,’ he said.

  ‘Yes please, but I have never tasted whisky.’

  ‘You’ll feel much better. You’ve lost your bonny rosy cheeks.’

  Minerva was feeling dizzy and very hot in spite of losing her colour and she was glad to sit down. She gratefully sipped her whisky and lemonade.

  ‘May I ask your name? I can’t keep calling you 3030 Wood.’

  ‘Minerva,’ she replied and smiled. She was beginning to enjoy herself and he was very kind and gentle.

  ‘That is a very pretty name for a very pretty girl. I’m glad that I can see your beautiful golden curls again. My name is James.’ They smiled at each other. Minerva was aware that her friends kept dancing by with different partners, as she and James sipped their drinks and reminisced about the beauty spots of Yorkshire.

  ‘Shall we have another dance Minerva?’

  ‘Yes James, I like this tune. Oh they’ve changed to the Hokey Cokey. This is fun.’ They jumped up to join a set when suddenly the room started to spin and Minerva crumpled into a heap on the floor completely unconscious and burning hot. Sergeant Jenkins bawled for space and started to fan her with his handkerchief. Vanessa and Victoria fell to their knees and cushioned her head.

  ‘We need the M.O. pronto,’ Sergeant Jenkins said. He grabbed the phone on the bar and dialled the sick bay. The band had stopped playing and Molly, Shirley, Angela and Elizabeth had joined Vanessa and Victoria to make a shelter around Minerva. Two medical orderlies dashed in carrying a stretcher and carefully carried Minerva to the sick bay accompanied by Sergeant Jenkins and Victoria, where they laid her on a bed. A nurse put a thermometer in her mouth and Minerva groaned and started to struggle.

  ‘She has a very high temperature. The M.O. is on his way. You will have to leave her now. I shall undress her and sponge her down,’ the nurse told them. Minerva started to scream and thrashed about. Victoria grabbed the Sergeant’s arm as the nurse soothed Minerva.

  ‘Will she be alright? She’s not going to die is she? Victoria asked with tears streaming down her face.

  The next twenty four hours will be critical. I think that she has had a bad reaction to the smallpox inoculation’ the nurse informed them.

  ‘Oh no! Poor Minerva. Is there anything that I can do? Victoria asked as she dried her tears.

  ‘You may come and visit her on Sunday evening. Now go both of you the doctor is here.’ Sergeant Jenkins was surprised how devastated and helpless he felt. He was used to taking charge of a situation. He meekly left the sickbay with Victoria, as the medical officer arrived.

  ‘Look at her arm doctor and her temperature is 102 degrees. The nurse informed him. Is it a reaction to the Smallpox injection ‘

  ‘Yes it looks like it nurse.’

  Through a haze Minerva saw the M.O. and as he resembled Martin Moxon, in her hallucination, she reached out to him.

  ‘Martin my darling, you came back. Where can we go?’ she murmured.

  ‘We must lower her temperature and get some fluids into her. I’ll put her on a drip. You will have to sit with her all night to prevent her thrashing around and sponge her down. I’ll come back in the morning,’ he said as he fixed a saline drip into Minerva’s arm. The nurse followed the Doctor’s instructions and after twenty four hours Minerva’s temperature lowered and she was able to swallow aspirin to sooth her throbbing headache. Sergeant Jenkins and all the girls in Hut Number One enquired of the nurse as to Minerva’s progress. Sergeant Jenkins managed to buy some golden chrysanthemums from the landlord at the pub, who had a greenhouse. The nurse handed them to Minerva, who had never received flowers in her life. The ticket said ‘Get well soon Golden Girl, Love James.’ Minerva felt tears prickling behind her eyes for his kindness. Her throat was sore and her arm was painful, red and swollen. She could hardly bear to lift her head from the pillow, but gazing at the beautiful golden flowers lifted her spirits. The days drifted by and Minerva’s temperature rose and fell. The Doctor removed the drip and Minerva drank barley water and soup until she had recovered enough to go onto a light diet. Every day Sergeant Jenkins was allowed in for five minutes and Minerva found herself looking forward to his visits. She listened to the planes taking off and landing and began to feel impatient to return to her duties. She discovered that she had been in sick bay for a whole week when finally Victoria was allowed in to see her. They flung their arms around each other.

  ‘Thank God you haven’t died,’ Victoria sobbed. ‘We have all been so worried and we’ve been in trouble every day. Sergeant Benson is a monster. Our uniforms arrive tomorrow, so at last we shall be proper
W.A.A.F.S.’ Victoria wiped her tears on the sheet.

  ‘The Doctor says that I am discharged tomorrow. My infection has cleared up. Will you fetch my clothes please Victoria? I’m fed up of these hospital pyjamas.’

  The nurse dismissed Victoria, who said that she would be straight back with the clothes and Minerva felt that another episode of her life had ended and she was impatient to begin the next one.

  Later when she was dressed in full uniform Minerva realised that she really was a W.A.A.F and Minnie Wood, the lonely mill girl, had disappeared forever. The first Christmas of the war was approaching and Minerva requested a 48 hour pass. She would go home and finally establish her new identity.

  Chapter 6

  Minerva trudged along the lane leading to the camp. She could see the aeroplane hangars in the distance. They seemed like a safe oasis. She was returning from a forty eight hour pass and glad to be back. Christmas 1939 had been like all the others except for the blackout conditions. Ben said that it was being called a ‘phoney war,’ because nothing was happening. Muriel had actually hugged her, with tears in her eyes, and Ben had told her she was very smart and he was proud of her. They had even taken her to the Black Bull to show her off to their drinking cronies on Christmas Eve, where she had been the centre of attention. Ben had told her that Martin Moxon had been home on leave, looking very handsome in his uniform, which caused a commotion in the female weaving shed. Minerva had experienced a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach, which returned as once more she began to think about him. She stopped and put down her gas mask and her heavy kit bag, which was loaded with chocolates, toiletries, and make up. She hugged herself and gazed across the flat wintery cold plains towards Lincolnshire, where she wondered if Martin was stationed.

  ‘Where are you my darling?’ Her heart fluttered and she was breathless. Tears filled her gentle brown eyes. She brushed them away and took a few deep breaths. A formation of fighter planes swooped over her head towards the runway. Fantasising about Martin with tears running down her cheeks, she did not hear the approaching vehicle. It stopped suddenly with screeching brakes, startling her out of her daydream. It was the doctor. He jumped out of the car.

  ‘What are you doing in the middle of the road Aircraft Woman Wood?’

  ‘Sorry Sir I didn’t hear you I was watching the planes.’ He noticed her tears.

  ‘Tut, tut, girl it’s not so bad coming back to camp is it?’

  ‘No Sir, I’m glad to be back’ and she picked up her gasmask and kit bag and brushed away her tears.

  ‘Well jump in I’ll give you a lift for the last mile’

  ‘Thank you Sir’ she replied.

  ‘I take it that you have had a good leave? Your parents would be pleased to see you.’

  ‘I’m an orphan sir, but my foster parents welcomed me.’

  Doctor Baxter remembered how she had hallucinated and mistaken him for a loved one.

  ‘Were you lucky enough to see your sweetheart?’ he asked.

  ‘I haven’t got a sweetheart sir,’ and she quickly blew her nose to cover her emotion.

  ‘I find that hard to believe, but this war will cause many upsets and break ups I suppose.’ The doctor told her.

  ‘There is someone Doctor Sir, but I wouldn’t be accepted into his social class.’ Minerva replied. Doctor Baxter glanced at her, as they approached the camp gates, thinking what sort of chap could let this beautiful gentle girl have those thoughts. Surely if he loved her he would move heaven and earth to be with her.

  ‘This war will be long, and it will change the social structure of our country. The class barriers will fall. Does he know where you are?’

  ‘No Sir.’

  ‘Then I think you should let him know.’ They showed their passes and Minerva got out of the car.

  ‘Thank you for the lift Sir,’ she said.

  ‘You are welcome. Remember my advice.’ And he drove towards to officer’s quarters.

  Minerva smiled as she approached hut number one. It was nearly dinner time, or teatime as she used to call it, and she was starving. She flung open the door. The hut was empty and very untidy. The stove was nearly out. She shivered and sighed, as she poked the dying embers and carefully added the coal. After drawing on the black out curtains, she put on the light. Vanessa had draped a paper chain on her bed head and cupboard, and someone had stuck a shiny star on the door, probably Vanessa too, who had not been on leave. Victoria’s bed was empty and tidy, so she must not have returned yet. The other girls had dumped their kitbags, so they must have be in the N.A.A.F.I. Minerva sat on her bed and sighed, then noticed an envelope on her cupboard top. Quickly she opened it and pulled out a Christmas card. It showed a big fat robin perched on a fir tree and all the girls from weaving shed number seven had signed their names. Emotionally she fondled the card and held it to her face. She fancied that she could detect the distinctive greasy smell of the textile shed and hear the girls laughing and calling out suggestive remarks as Martin Moxon inspected their looms. Jessie had written: ‘He has been hom and he askt me if I knew you. I sed no but i blusht. He is stil looking for you.’ This was too much and Minerva threw herself onto the bed and sobbed. Quickly she recovered,

  ‘Come now aircraft woman 3030 Wood, this will never do. There is a war on. Get yourself across to the ablutions and wash your face!’ she sternly told herself.

  When she entered the N.A.A.F.I groups of girls were surrounded by crowds of airmen. As she joined them she noticed Sergeant Benson coming in.

  ‘Attention Aircraft Women!’ she bawled and all the girls jumped up and the men quickly dispersed. ‘I know it is Christmas, but remember what you have been told about over enthusiastic fraternising. There will be a roll call straight after dinner to check if you are all back.’

  ‘Yes Sergeant,’ they all replied and saluted smartly.

  ‘Get your selves into the cook house, quick, march!’ the Sergeant ordered and they marched in two’s behind her. Minerva had quickly paired herself with Vanessa.

  ‘Have you had a good Christmas?’ Vanessa whispered.

  ‘Yes thank you, I was made very welcome,’ Minerva replied, ‘Have you?’

  ‘I’ll say I have! I’ll tell you about it later.’ By now they had entered the cook house and woe betide anyone who had forgotten her knife fork and spoon.

  Christmas was over. Victoria managed to arrive for roll call just in time and Minerva and Vanessa could see that she was bursting to tell of her exploits. All the stories that she told after lights out about Christmas in London made Minerva long to see for herself. But as Vanessa told her, Victoria’s London was very different from hers and she did not care if she never saw it again. She had enjoyed Christmas on the camp and taken advantage of the fact that there were at least twenty men to every woman. She had narrowed her choice down to five and at the New Year’s Eve party she meant to enjoy herself again.

  Civilian workmen had moved onto the site and they were building foundations for more Nissen huts, which were arriving next week. More ablutions were being built. Rumour was rife that more W.A.A.F.S would be arriving in the New Year. It was very cold as the north wind swept across the plain of York.

  Minerva and Victoria shivered as they pulled on their blue overalls ready for their instruction on the mysteries of an engine. They could already change a wheel and change a sparking plug. And Minerva was now a qualified driver.

  ‘I have no intention of mending a vehicle Minerva, and I’m tired of getting my hands dirty. I’m going to put in a transfer to the operations room. That is where all the action and excitement will be.’ Victoria said.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that too, it’s very cold in here. I am very grateful that I have learnt to drive and it’s obvious that the rumours are true and more W.A.A.F.s will be arriving. We had better do something quickly,’ Minerva replied. ‘Let’s go and see Sergeant Benson and request a meeting with the section officer. Look out Sergeant Jenkins is coming.’ Both girls saluted smartly,


  ‘Good Morning Sergeant,’ they chorused.

  ‘Good Morning Air Craft Women,’ he replied, beaming broadly. ‘You have both been detailed as drivers this morning, so smarten yourselves up and report to the officers mess by eleven hundred hours and don’t forget your gas masks,’ he said. Both girls had difficulty in concealing their glee,

  ‘Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sergeant,’ they both replied and dashed back to their hut.

  ‘Wow Minerva! This is something good, I wonder where we are going.’

  ‘I expect we are going to York or to another station.’ Minerva replied. ‘Come on hurry up, they still don’t trust us to be efficient. Let’s show them.’ The two girls, wearing full uniform with shoes and buttons shining, presented themselves at the officer’s mess, where two cars were parked.

  ‘Thank God we practiced on these two vehicles last week,’ Victoria said and they both breathed sighs of relief, as they stood to attention by the driver’s doors. At exactly eleven hundred hours, six officers came towards the cars and the two W.A.A.F.s saluted and then nervously took their place behind the wheel awaiting orders. The officers took their places, one by each girl and two in each back seat. The girls were commanded to drive. As all signposts had been removed the officers in the front seats held a map, so that they could navigate the directions. Minerva gritted her teeth. This was her first assignment driving officers. The barrier opened without them having to stop and show their passes.

  ‘Right Air Craft Woman, I shall be the navigator. You just concentrate on the driving and I will tell you in good time which way to turn. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘Yes Sir I can,’ Minerva replied, thinking, you clever patronising beggar, I’ll show you, and hoping that Victoria had not answered insolently.

  They arrived at the station hotel in York and were told to wait until they were ready to return, but they may go into the dining room and have lunch, which would be paid for. Minerva had never been in such a splendid restaurant and she gazed around in admiration as they were shown to a corner table by a window. There was a Christmas tree and glittering garlands.