by Mary Arden
‘Oh, that’s because we have to use a great deal of disinfectant at the hospital, you see,’ I explained.
She looked surprised and asked, ‘Don’t they supply you with rubber gloves?’
‘We used to be provided with them,’ I replied, ‘but due to the shortages, our hospital has run out at the moment.’
The First Officer paused for a moment, ‘You put down that your first choice was to join as a Boat Crew,’ she continued looking down at my form. ‘But I wonder whether you realise that this is extremely hard, often very cold work. You would be crewing on the liberty boats that take naval personnel from ship to shore in all weathers. You would also be expected to secure the boats to the quay with thick rope. Can you tie any nautical knots by the way?’
‘Oh yes,’ I beamed, ‘I learned to tie knots when sailing dinghies and, recently, I’ve been practising using my dressing gown cord, as well as the thick string our gardener uses to tie up the bamboo poles for the peas and beans.’
The First Officer looked at me for a moment, and then said: ‘I don’t think you’d be strong enough to work on the boats.’ She then checked my form and went on, ‘I see that your second choice is as a Driver, well, have you passed your test?’
‘No, not yet but I’ve had several lessons; I know what to do and will soon learn,’ I replied.
I watched the First Officer as she noted down on my form that ‘Driver’ was a possibility; then she looked back up at me, and asked ‘What about your shorthand and typing?’
‘I type at about forty-five words per minute and use my own version of shorthand, but I’m willing to learn whatever shorthand is used in the Navy, if that would help.’ I then added, ‘I don’t mind being taught anything new so long as it’s useful.’
The First Officer smiled at me and said she thought it would be worthwhile if I spent a probationary two weeks at HMS Vernon in Portsmouth to see if any of my choices were possible, and if not, other choices of work would be suggested to me. She then warned me that as I would be joining the Wrens as a Rating, I would have to sleep in a Nissen Hut on a dormitory bunk.
‘Oh, I don’t mind sleeping in a room that I have to share with other people,’ I said brightly. ‘We slept in dormitories at boarding school, it was fun, and we had midnight feasts. I expect the Wrens will be much the same!’
‘The discipline in the Wrens,’ the First Officer said firmly, ‘does not allow midnight feasts; and you will have to get used to calling all Women Officers in the Wrens ‘Ma’am’, and all the Male Officers ‘Sir’, and you will be expected to salute all senior personnel while out of doors, and speak to them only when spoken to first.’
‘Oh, I’ll soon learn,’ I said happily. I wasn’t in the least worried about the protocol or the discipline.
‘You may go now,’ she said. ‘Expect to receive a letter in a week or two telling you if you’ve been successful with your application or not. Then you will be given a date to attend training, unless you change your mind in the interim of course.’
‘Thanks awfully for giving me your time,’ I said standing up and putting out my hand to say goodbye.
The First Officer took my hand in hers hesitantly, and said, ‘When, or I should say, if you join the Wrens, you will not be shaking hands with Officers; you will have to stand to attention and salute.’
‘Oh,’ I said, slightly embarrassed, ‘I’ve a lot to learn, haven’t I?’
I left the interview delighted that I hadn’t been turned down out of hand and that at least I might get the chance to do two weeks initial training.
I’ll make myself so useful they will be begging me to stay on, I thought, as I gaily skipped down the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt, as I realised I’d bumped squarely into a very tall, good-looking middle aged man dressed in naval uniform. I noticed that his jacket was decorated with gold braid up to his armpits, and that strange, gold dressing-gown cord interwove with a multitude of different coloured ribbons on his chest.
I apologised for not looking where I was going and explained that I was preoccupied because I’d just come out of my interview to become a Wren. Then suddenly remembering what the First Officer had just said, I smiled at him and said, ‘If I become a Wren I’ll have to call you Sir, won’t I?’
‘Eh, well, yes,’ he replied, grinning. ‘As I am an Admiral, I think that would be quite a good idea!’
Gesturing at his ribbons I asked, ‘Excuse me, but can I ask you whether you sewed on all those ribbons yourself, or did your wife sew them on for you?’
‘As a matter of fact young lady, I was very fortunate: the jacket arrived at my home with them all already sewn on,’ he replied, looking at me with amusement.
‘I hate sewing on badges,’ I said chattily. ‘We had to do it ourselves when I was a Girl Guide and I always pricked my fingers, I’m so glad that you didn’t have to do it yourself.’
‘Which category are you applying for young lady?’ the Admiral asked.
‘Boat Crew,’ I replied, beaming, ‘maybe one day I’ll collect you and take you to your ship.’
The Admiral smiled, ‘I don’t get the opportunity to go on many ships these days’ he said a bit sadly. ‘I have to work in my office most of the time.’
‘Oh well, if I’m not accepted as Boat Crew, maybe I could learn to be your secretary and make myself useful,’ I offered brightly, and then put out my hand to shake his, ‘I must go now or I’ll be late. Goodbye.’
‘Goodbye to you too,’ he said taking my hand. ‘By the way, what is your name young lady?’
‘Mary Arden, Sir’ I replied, ‘but hopefully soon it will be Wren Arden.’
CHAPTER 6
1942
Nearly a month went by before a letter finally arrived to tell me that I’d been accepted for two weeks probation at HMS Vernon in Portsmouth, during which my suitability to be a Wren would be assessed. The letter explained that there was no guarantee that I would be offered any of the listed categories that I’d chosen, or that I would be accepted at the end of the course. I would have to wear civilian clothes to start with and then if I passed the probationary period I would have to get a uniform at the stores, which would include the ugly pudding-basin hat, like the one that I’d seen on Pathe News at the cinema.
On the day of my departure my parents took me to the station and as I said my goodbyes, my mother said, ‘Now, darling, promise me that if you are not enjoying yourself you will come straight back home!’
My father offered to exchange my third-class railway warrant for a first-class ticket, but I insisted that I must get used to travelling third-class from now on.
‘See you soon,’ I said, as I stepped into the carriage. I put my suitcase and overnight bag on the rack above my seat and then as I sat down I heard a woman say, ‘You goin’ to Portsmouth too?’
‘Yes, I am,’ I replied and then added, ‘I am hoping to become a Wren.’
‘Likewise,’ she said.
‘My name’s Mary Arden, what’s yours?’
‘Elsie Clark,’ she replied, putting her sticky hand into mine. She then asked me how old I was, so I told her that I was now eighteen, and she said that she was twenty-five.
I started to feel a bit hungry, so took out the packet of sandwiches that our new cook, Mrs Green had made for me to take for the journey, and offered one to Elsie, ‘Marmite and tomato or egg and cress?’
‘You got ‘ens then?’ Elsie asked accepting an egg and cress sandwich, ‘You must ‘ave if you can spare eggs for sandwiches. Where d’ya keep ‘em then? You got ‘n allotment?’
‘No,’ I replied, ‘we keep them in our garden actually, but well away from the house, so as not to attract rats!’
Elsie looked me up and down and asked, ‘Where d’yer live then, in a big ‘ouse with its own garden?’
‘Yes I do,’ I replied, ‘where do you live?’
‘Down the docks,’ she replied
‘Do you mean on the Thames? That must be lovely, overlooking the river,’ I
replied.
‘Not when bleedin’ bombs is fallin’ all night it’s not,’ she said quietly, and then I suddenly realised which docks she was referring to, and shuddered.
‘’Ere Mary, when you ’ad your medical what did you ’ave, a man or a lady doctor?’
‘A woman thank goodness,’ I replied, ‘otherwise I’d have died of embarrassment.’
‘I ’ad to put up with a man peerin’ up me privates,’ Elsie whispered.
‘Elsie!’ I said shocked, ‘Surely not, he must have just been examining your pelvis like my doctor did?’
‘If that’s what you think Mary Arden, you’ll believe any think!’ Elsie said.
When she saw that I was deadly serious, she smiled and said, ‘You talk jus’ like the Queen, Gawd bless ’er; ’ere, you ain’t a relation of hers or some fing are ya?’
I giggled and replied that of course I wasn’t. I then pulled out my silver cigarette case and offered her one of my cigarettes. She almost exploded with giggles at the sight of it: ‘Gaw blimey, you can’t go carrying that about, Mary, for Gawd’s sake, put it away!’
‘Why ever not?’ I asked, taken aback.
‘Cos it’ll get bleedin’ nicked, that’s why,’ Elsie assured me, ‘it’ll get pinched before you’ve even unpacked yer things.’
‘But surely I will be able to trust the other girls at the base?’ I said incredulously, ‘I mean it is part of the Royal Navy after all!’
‘Gawd, you go’ a lot to learn.’ Elsie sighed shaking her head in disbelief. I was feeling a bit worried now.
A few minutes later Elsie pointed at the sandwich bag and asked, ‘If you don’t want that last sandwich, can I ’ave it?’
‘Of course, Elsie,’ I said handing her the remaining sandwich.
‘Did yer Mum make these for yer?’ she asked.
I answered without thinking, ‘No, our cook made them for me.’
Elsie snorted with laughter, and then realising that I was being completely serious, took my hand in hers and said, ‘I ’ope you won’t take offence or nuffink, but you are going to ’ave to be careful wot you say and not let on to the uvver girls that your Mum ’as a cook, an’ that you got a big garden and all that; and you’ll ’ave to stop sayin’ ‘actually’ and ‘thanks awfully,’ ’cos you sound like a bleedin’ toff and the uvvers might think you think you’re better then them.’
‘I’ll try,’ I replied, ‘but I’m so used to saying those sorts of things that they just slip out.’
‘Well then, put a zip on yer mouf,’ Elsie told me. ‘You’ll get on all right wiv the officers, but they ain’t the ones in charge of us. The ones called Petty Officers tell us what to do, and if they don’t like you, they’ll make life ’ell for you,’ Elsie warned. ‘So mind what yer say!’
Just then the train slowed down and we pulled into a station. I looked out of the window and saw a middle-aged woman struggling with a heavy suitcase along the platform. When she came into our carriage she looked at Elsie with a rather superior air and asked her to put her suitcase on the rack for her.
‘I’m not your bleedin’ servant, do it yerself,’ Elsie said, rudely.
There was obviously no way that my new friend was going to wait on the woman, so she now put her suitcase onto the seat and sat next to it. After a few moments, Elsie, having now examined the woman’s luggage label and seen that she was going to the same destination as we were, exclaimed, ‘You bin called up then?’
‘No, I volunteered,’ the woman replied haughtily. ‘I thought it was my duty to serve as a Wren’ she explained, ‘I’m a highly trained secretary and feel wasted as a civilian, so I have offered my services to the Navy.’
‘Lucky them!’ Elsie said cheekily, winking at me.
When we arrived in Portsmouth we hurriedly got our luggage and scrambled out of the carriage. Two young sailors checked our papers and helped us climb into the back of an open lorry, and then tossed our cases in with us.
‘Thanks awfully,’ I said. Elsie gave me an exasperated look, but fortunately, the sailor had been too busy staring at my legs to notice the way I spoke.
In the back of the lorry there were two boards on each side, which acted as seats. Several sailors were already sitting down but when they saw Elsie and me they willingly squashed up to make room for us. There was a strong smell of sweat, and I thought that one or two of the sailors could probably do with a good wash.
There must have been several potholes in the tarmac, probably the result of a bombing raid, so as the lorry drove over them, it lurched and the sailor sitting next to me put his arm around me to stop me falling off my seat. I smiled gratefully up at him and thanked him for being so kind and he told me in a broad Scottish accent that it would be his pleasure any time. The other sailors made whistling noises and asked Elsie if she would like some steadying hands too.
‘Not bleedin’ likely,’ she replied.
When we arrived at HMS Vernon, the sailors helped us down from the lorry and then gave us our cases. ‘Meet us down the pub if you’re feeling lonely later,’ one of them said to Elsie.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she replied casually to the sailor.
Elsie then told me that I’d have to manage on my own from now on, as she had to go and cook the meals for the Officers.
‘Meet me at seven down the Wren’s NAAFI,’ she suggested. I had no time to reply either yes or no before she hurried off, and I was left standing on my own.
There were dozens of Nissen huts and I wondered which one I would be sleeping in. I picked up my case and overnight bag, and began to walk through the gates. A large man in uniform stopped me and asked for my pass.
‘I’m new,’ I said meekly, ‘so I don’t have a pass yet. How do I get one please?’
The man asked me my name and then checked his list. He handed me a temporary pass and then warned me that I would have to show it every time I went in and out of the barracks. I asked him where the billeting office was and he pointed to one of the many brick buildings near the parade ground.
After finding the right office, I was then ushered into a small room where a woman in naval uniform was sitting at a desk reading a file. It felt a bit like being back at school, as I stood to attention and waited for her to finish reading the file before she looked up and spoke to me. After a minute or two she looked up and asked me my name, and checking it against her list, she then instructed me to go to Hut 12.
It took me quite a while to find Hut 12 but when I eventually got there I used the key I’d been given to open the door of the hut, and then peered inside. There were six beds, two of which I presumed were unclaimed, as they weren’t made up. Each bed had a window behind it, none of which were open. I dumped my cases on one of the beds and as the room was a bit stuffy, I flung the window behind it wide open. On the bed there was a printed instruction sheet, which told me how and where to ‘stow’ my things, which made me realise that I would have to get used to using Navy terms from now on.
I looked at my watch. It was four o’clock and I rather fancied a cup of tea, but I’d been told at the billeting office that tea was between six and seven sharp. Funny time to have afternoon tea, I thought, everybody else has it at four, and then I realised they must mean high tea.
As I was putting my personal belongings away in the bedside locker, I sensed someone looking at me, and when I turned around I saw a woman standing in the doorway. She was wearing a navy blue Wren’s uniform, which had several brass buttons on it, and she wore a rather grim look on her face. I remembered Elsie telling me that there were women in charge of us, called Petty Officers, and assumed she must be one of them. Before I could say good afternoon, she asked me in an unfriendly tone whether I was Mary Arden.
‘Yes, Miss… I’m sorry I don’t know your name,’ I said.
‘I’m not Miss anything,’ the woman snapped. ‘You refer to me as Petty Officer.’
By now, she was standing by my bed and ordered me to remove my suitcase and to never put it on a clean
counterpane again. ‘There are plenty of chairs,’ she scolded.
There wasn’t a chair by my bed, so I went to fetch one from the bed next to mine. The Petty Officer then looked at my shoes under the bed, and enquired if I had some more suitable shoes to wear, as I’d be marching on parade in the morning.
I was about to tell her that the shoes under my bed were my sensible shoes, but I was distracted when she slammed the window behind my bed shut.
‘Could you please tell me where to leave my empty suitcase?’ I asked politely.
‘Ask one of your roommates when they come in,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t got all day to answer your questions.’
After the Petty Officer had left, I felt tears welling-up in my eyes, and decided then and there that I would nickname this dreadful woman ‘Po Face’ and hoped that I’d never see her again.
Once I had pulled myself together, I decided to try and find the NAAF1, walk around the parade ground and generally get my bearings. I had no idea what a NAAFI was, but I guessed it must be something like the YMCA where I had served tea to the soldiers, and it was. When I first stepped inside, I saw that there was a counter for serving food and hot drinks at one end, and a shopping area with various things like soap and books for sale at the other. There was a notice saying that it wasn’t open until six, so I made a mental note that when I came back later that evening to see Elsie, I would buy myself a Penguin paperback to read to help pass the long evening hours.
I felt a surge of panic when I suddenly remembered that I’d been told by the Billeting Officer to bring my ration card, and any other relevant papers I’d been issued with, to the administrative office once I had unpacked. I’d been so put out by the bad tempered PO that I’d totally forgotten. Thankfully I had put everything of value, including all my important papers, into my gasmask case, so I now ran as quickly as possible to the administrative office, and with a sigh of relief, handed everything in just before it closed.