by Mary Arden
‘But I’ve only just arrived and I haven’t had time to sew it on yet,’ I protested.
‘Don’t answer back. Go and sew one on now and report straight back after you have done that,’ the Wren Petty Officer screeched. She was obviously a bully.
‘Yes Petty Officer,’ I replied meekly and then headed straight to the NAAFI, where I bought a packet of needles and thread. By the time I had sewn on my new hatband I was feeling hungry and my stomach was rumbling, but I was too scared to stop for lunch, so hurried back again to the Billeting Office.
The Wren Petty Officer examined my sewing efforts and with a look of disdain said, ‘I suppose that will have to do’. She then confirmed that I’d be billeted in the bungalow about a quarter of a mile from HMS Daedalus, which she said was locked between ten and five. ‘You will have to leave your case at your place of work for today.’
I didn’t understand why she found it necessary to be quite so harsh, and hoped that the other Wren Petty Officers weren’t quite as officious.
I hurried towards the eye unit to report for work, where I hoped that I’d find Lydia, but when I got to her office, it was deserted, so I climbed back onto my bicycle and headed back towards the NAAFI to see if she was there.
When I got there, I saw Lydia about to walk in, so called out to her. It was a relief to see a familiar face again and after I told her about my encounter with the nasty Wren PO, she told me not to worry; and said that they all acted like prison guards.
‘You will soon get used to those bossy cows!’ she said laughing. ‘Petty Officers are a bit like sergeants in the army, and think that they can bark at anyone with lower rank than themselves, but I can assure you that those with officer rank are helpful, and will be much kinder to you. Don’t worry too much, and if you have a real problem with any of them, I will take you to see Daddy-T as he protects us from people like that.’
That afternoon I sat in on one of the tests and did my best to understand the lecture Lydia gave the pilots. By five that afternoon my head was swimming, and I began to worry that it could be days before I would be able to understand it, let alone memorise it all.
After high tea, we went straight to the bungalow and Lydia helped me carry my things to the room, which we would be sharing from now on. ‘This is your bed and this is your chest of drawers. You can have one side of the wardrobe as well, which I’ve already cleared for you.’
As I started to unpack, Lydia explained that I would need to make up a small bag of everything that I would require for each day, as the bungalow was out-of-bounds during the day.
‘You can leave them in a cupboard at the Wren’s cloakroom like I do,’ she suggested, ‘I always pack a spare shirt in case I spill anything on the one I’m wearing, and a spare pair of stockings in case I get a ladder, and perhaps anything personal that you feel you might need.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, and continued unpacking my things. When I’d finished we sat together reading in the sitting room. I must have fallen asleep, as I was woken with a start by the sound of someone moving about noisily at the back of the bungalow.
‘It’s only Joan, one of the Stewards,’ Lydia said looking up from her book, ‘if you hurry you can go and clean your teeth first before she uses the bathroom.’
I thanked Lydia once again for her help and kindness and, yawning announced that I was going to have an early night.
‘Make sure to have your torch by your bed in case there’s an air raid during the night. Goodnight Mary.’
I went and brushed my teeth before happily slipping into bed, which felt soft and luxurious compared to the bed in the Nissen hut at Vernon. I sighed to myself: things were not so bad after all; I’d just have to learn to put up with the horrible Wren Petty Officers.
The next morning, Lydia told me that she never ate breakfast and that she’d see me at the NVT office a bit later. I was quite glad to be on my own as it gave me some time to get my bearings before starting work at nine.
When I arrived at the office, Lydia gave me some filing to do and then handed me a copy of the printed lecture and told me to start memorising it. I spent the rest of the day following her around like a shadow, watching everything she did.
My first week at HMS Daedalus seemed to go by very quickly, and I learned all about how our eyes work, both during the day and at night; however, I was very conscious that I was still not word-perfect on the half-hour lecture and would have to work harder on that. When Lydia told me that it had taken her three weeks to learn it all, so not to get too worried about it, I felt relieved.
By the second week, Lydia trusted me to measure the distance between the hexagonal machine and the men’s foreheads and felt that she could leave me in charge of clipping their collars to their chairs, explaining to them why it was necessary. Some of the men made silly remarks and when one of them asked me out for a drink in the evening, I just said with a smile, ‘I’d love to some time, but at the moment I’m far too busy to spare the time.’
Lydia then told me I was ready to handle my first solo test session, and fortunately it went without a hitch, so from then on Lydia and I took the tests in turns, both doing one test in the morning and another in the afternoon. At first Lydia checked my typed reports, but after a week or so, she felt confident enough to leave me to it.
I saw very little of Commander Timpston during my first month except to say ‘Good Morning Sir’ and ‘Goodnight Sir’, until one of the Wren Writer’s asked me if I would be willing to take over her duties as ‘Chief Tea and Coffee Maker’ for the doctors in the Eye Unit, which included the Commander. I was happy to do this for her as it gave me the opportunity to get to know the medical staff better.
The first time I took Commander Timpston his coffee, he asked me if everything was going well, so I told him that it was, and that I was enjoying working at his unit. He then asked what I did in the evenings, and I told him that I liked reading. He was interested to know what kind of books I read, and raised an eyebrow when I mentioned that I was reading a book about psychology and how the mind works.
When I collected the dirty cups and saucers, I noticed that Daddy-T never ate his biscuits, which didn’t surprise me, as they tasted like cardboard and were not very appetising. At the NAAFI that evening I asked one of the volunteer ladies serving behind the counter if there was any chance of buying a packet of chocolate biscuits, and explained that they weren’t for me but for the doctors at the eye unit. She smiled and said she would see what she could do.
The next time I went to collect the Commander’s coffee tray I noticed that he had eaten both his chocolate biscuits. He looked up with a broad grin on his face and asked me where I had managed to rustle up the new biscuits.
‘I’ve made friends with one of the volunteer ladies in the NAAFI, Sir,’ I replied.
‘Well done, they really are delicious Mary,’ he said. ‘By the way, I have some books in my office that you might like to read, they’re all about how the human mind works, they are very interesting, and will be useful in your work.’
Within two months I was being entrusted with the Night Vision re-tests that were held on Saturday mornings, as one-to-one sessions, and Lydia told me that she now felt I could manage full time on my own for a couple of weeks, so she was going to take some well-earned leave to go and see her family.
‘I’ll book in the tests before I go, and only book in three a day instead of four so that you won’t get too tired. But, Mary,’ she added seriously, ‘if one of the men fails his test, you must make sure it’s a genuine failure, and not an excuse to be alone with you in the dark!’
I laughed, and assured Lydia that I was learning to tell the difference, ‘I sense the ones who really are unable to do the test, as if they’re sending out signals for help,’ I told her, ‘whereas I can pick out the naughty boys that try to flirt with me before they even come through the door, so don’t worry, Lydia, but thanks for the warning.’
The following Saturday while Lydia was on leave, I had t
o do a re-test, and halfway through, I sensed that the young man I was testing was becoming very distressed. He didn’t do or say anything in particular, I just knew, so I asked him what was worrying him.
‘If I fail this second test my father will never forgive me,’ he confessed. ‘He has always told me that I am a failure ever since I was little, so if I am grounded and not allowed to fly, he will accuse me of failing on purpose and of being a coward.’
‘If you did fail it doesn’t make you a coward, it just means you can’t see very well in the dark,’ I told him truthfully.
There was silence for a moment, and then the pilot let out a deep sigh. ‘It’s not that I’m afraid of being killed’ he said quietly, ‘I’m prepared for my death if it comes to it; but I don’t want to be responsible for someone else’s death, and if I must fly with an Observer and I can’t see in the dark when landing at night, I would not only kill myself but him as well.’
‘Have you ever thought of becoming an Observer yourself? That way you wouldn’t be responsible for flying at night. And with your flying experience you would make an excellent one I’m sure,’ I suggested encouragingly.
As he left he thanked me for being so understanding. When I checked his test results against his first test, I noticed that he had done a little better, but had still failed. I wondered whether it was psychological, and whether his fear of his father had affected the outcome.
When I returned to work the following Monday, I wrote a note to Commander Timpston asking him if he could please spare a minute or two to speak to me, as I needed his advice about the young pilot’s fear.
‘He definitely isn’t a coward, Sir, I’m sure of that, it’s just that he’s convinced that his father sees him as a failure, and he’s terrified he will fail when he’s flying, and kill not only himself, but also his Observer. I don’t think he really has trouble seeing in the dark, it’s something far deeper than that, and I was wondering if you could talk to him and help him in some way?’
‘You could be right, Mary,’ the Commander said thoughtfully, ‘but what made you so sure that he had a problem in the first place?’
‘Intuition I suppose, I just felt that he was asking for help without actually saying so out loud, and I wondered whether failing the Night Vision Test was his way of asking for the help he needed. He seems to be convinced that he is a failure; he told me that was what his father had told him ever since he was a little boy.’
Commander Timpston stared at me with interest and then asked, ‘Do you really believe that you can read people’s thoughts sometimes, particularly when they’re distressed?’
‘Yes Sir, I believe I can,’ I answered honestly, looking him straight in the eye.
‘Let me have the pilot’s name,’ he said, ‘and I’ll see what I can do to help him. It’s an area that interests me too. I have a very interesting book on ESP at home, which I’ll bring in for you, as I think you’ll find it interesting.’
‘Thank you very much, Sir,’ I replied, ‘What does ESP stand for?’
‘Extra Sensory Perception and I think you may have this gift, Mary, so read the book and then we can discuss it all another time.’
When Lydia returned from leave, she looked rested and in good spirits, and told me that she was delighted to see that I’d managed so well on my own. As a reward I could take a forty-eight and have a long weekend at home, so that evening I wrote to Elsie to suggest that we meet up for lunch in Portsmouth on the Saturday before I went home to see my family.
‘I’ll treat you to fish and chips and we can have a good gossip before I catch the train to Woking,’ I wrote, enclosing a stamped addressed envelope to save her the cost. I couldn’t wait to see Elsie again to tell her all about my first few weeks at HMS Daedalus.
The next day I was typing out a report when the Commander came into the office.
‘Here’s the book I mentioned to you,’ he said kindly.
‘Thank you Sir, I’ll save it to read when I next go home on leave.’
‘I know when that is Mary,’ he said, looking at me intensely and putting one of his fingers to his forehead as though he was concentrating hard and trying to read my thoughts.
‘E-S-P?’ I asked him in all seriousness.
‘No, 4-8-P,’ he chuckled, ‘I have just approved your weekend pass!
It was good to see Elsie again, and while we ate our fish and chips we were chattering non-stop about what we had both been up to since we last saw each other.
‘What are the pilots like Mary? Are they givin’ you any trouble?’ Elsie enquired.
‘What sort of trouble do you mean, Elsie?’
‘Like pinching yer bum when the lights are out!’
‘Elsie! You are naughty, trust you to think of that,’ I giggled. ‘The answer is no, they are all perfect gentlemen.’
‘Oh, are they?’ Elsie said raising one eyebrow, ‘So have you’ve been asked out then?’
‘Well, yes, actually, I have,’ I told her.
‘Oh you h‘ave, h’ave you, h’actually!’ Elsie said trying to copy the way I spoke, which made us both laugh.
I then told her that I had turned down all the invitations to go out, as I had so much to learn for my new job, and after I had done my studying, I was just too tired to go anywhere.
I asked Elsie if she had met anyone and she replied, ‘Fat chance with me ‘air smelling of boiled cabbage and fried onions! By the time we’ve finished our shift all we want to do is collapse and go back to our ‘ut!’
We continued nattering for over an hour before it was time for me to leave.
‘Could you get me permission to ‘ave a look at where yer working next time I gets a forty-eight?’ Elsie asked, as I kissed her goodbye. ‘Then I could get one of your nice h’officers to take me down the pub, ‘specially as yer too bloomin’ busy to go out with ‘em!’
‘I am sure they would be delighted to meet such a lovely young lady as you,’ I joked back. ‘And I am sure there must be one of them that has no sense of smell and won’t mind the fried onions!’
Elsie roared with laughter and said, ‘Cheeky cow! You’d better get yer skates on Mary or you’ll miss yer train.’ I looked at my watch and realised she was right.
‘See you later alligator!’ Elsie shouted as I hurried towards the station.
As the train pulled into Woking, I felt overjoyed to be home again and told my parents everything that I’d been up to, since I had last seen them.
That evening, I rang Archie McIndoe to tell him my news and how grateful I was that he’d suggested I join the Wrens. Uncle Archie and I talked for ages and he pulled my leg mercilessly about sitting in a pitch-dark room with six burly men.
The next day I went next door to see Mrs Derwent to get the latest news of her boys. She told me that Robert was now in the desert somewhere, which I could tell was worrying her, and that Edward had got married and that they were expecting their first baby. It suddenly struck me how sad Edward must feel that his dear friend Henry would never see his first child, as I am sure he would have been the godfather.
When I rang Jane, who was staying at her Uncle Oliver’s house in Cornwall, while she was working as his private secretary, we had our usual long gossip. I was delighted to hear what a lively social life she was having. Her Uncle regularly invited young Army officers to the house when they were off duty and she was also meeting-up with several of her long-lost cousins. She then mentioned that there was one special cousin, who she rather liked, called James.
For the rest of my leave, I tried to finish reading the book that Daddy-T had lent me. My mother had also found time to read it, and told me that she thought that I must have ESP, as I often said what she was about to say just before she had a chance to say it. She had spoken to Uncle Archie about my strange ability once, and he had told her that he hoped I would be able to use it to help others one day.
Before I left home to go back to HMS Daedalus, I did as Lydia had suggested and swapped over my lighter summer cl
othes for warmer autumn wear. I was glad that I had decided to stay an extra night with my parents and catch the five-thirty milk train on the Monday morning, as it gave me a chance to listen to ITMA with my parents. They loved the programme as it was so funny and such a contrast from the seriousness of the war.
We then listened to the news and were heartened to hear that the British Eighth Army commanded by General Montgomery or Monty, as everyone now called him, had halted Irwin Rommel’s offensive at Alam el Halfa.
When I woke up at 5 a.m. to catch the early-morning milk train from Woking to Portsmouth, I had no idea that this day would nearly turn out to be my last.
Catching the milk train early on a Monday morning was a tip that I had got from some of my Wren friends. It meant that I could spend an extra night at home rather than having to leave after tea on the Sunday. Still yawning, I quickly picked up my overnight case, slung my gasmask case over my shoulder and leapt onto the platform. The elderly guard grinned, as he helped me lift my bicycle out of the guard’s van, its basket over-flowing with things I hadn’t been able to fit into my case. I had always tried to travel light since joining the WRNS, but so far had never succeeded, as there always seemed to be extras to take back with me: a mackintosh, a bed rug, a new novel, more civilian clothes, which I would squash into my basket or tie onto the grid at the back of my bicycle along with my overnight case.
As soon as the train arrived in Portsmouth, I hurried towards the ‘Green Ferry’ waiting to cross the bay to Gosport, and then decided to pay a visit to the Ladies before the half-hour ride to HMS Daedalus, the Royal Naval air station where I was working as a Night Vision Tester. I did think it rather odd, when I came out of the WC, that no one seemed to be about: there were no cars with drivers waiting to collect the officers, or even sailors waiting patiently to be picked up by lorries but just assumed that everyone must have already left for the Naval base while I was in the loo.