by Mary Arden
When the train finally arrived at Yeovil, I got off the train and saw a Chief Petty Officer looking around and scratching his head; he was obviously waiting for someone, so I hoped it was me.
‘Excuse me have you come to take me to HMS Heron?’ I asked hopefully.
The Chief turned and asked, ‘Leading Wren Arden?’
‘That’s me,’ I said cheerfully, putting out my hand. ‘Good afternoon.’
The Chief looked quite taken aback, wiped his hand on the back of his trousers, and then shook my hand.
‘I am sorry, but I was expecting someone much older,’ he said, and then looking at my luggage asked me, ‘is this all you have?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ I said apologetically, ‘my bicycle should be waiting for me in Left Luggage, as well as another case.’
‘Oh dear, I am sorry, but I will have to organise a lorry to pick them up for you later, as there is not enough room in the car,’ the Chief said, explaining that he also had to pick up two Officers, and as their train had been delayed we would have to wait for them. He suggested that I went to check to see if my luggage had arrived, while we waited.
I found the stationmaster who asked to see my Carter Paterson receipt, confirmed that my things had arrived, and assured me that he would personally check that it was all loaded onto the lorry when it arrived.
When I went back to the car, the Chief asked me if I felt like a cup of tea, ‘It’ll fill in the time and it’s nice and warm in the café,’ he explained. After a short drive, he drew up opposite a row of tiny shops, one of which was called Polly’s Tearoom.
‘Go on in while I park up, and tell Dot that TNT is following up behind,’ he said with a wink.
‘TNT?’ I asked.
‘Well, it’s short for Tony, and I work in Transport,’ he explained patiently. ‘So it’s a joke, see, Tony N’ Transport!’
I walked into the café, and asked, ‘Excuse me, is there someone here called Dot?’
‘Who’s asking?’ a middle aged woman replied looking a bit surprised.
‘TNT told me to say that he was following up behind,’ I replied.
Dot looked me up and down for a moment and then a broad grin spread across her face and she roared with laughter.
‘Tea for two,’ I asked, and then I noticed some delicious Bath buns in the glass cabinet, ‘and could I have two of those, as well please.’
‘So that’s TFT for TNT is it love?’ Dot asked which made us both laugh.
TNT then came into the café and sat down on the chair next to me. As we sipped our tea and ate our buns, TNT very firmly put some money on the table and said jokingly, ‘If we’re to make a habit of this Wren Arden, we’d better go Dutch!’
When it was time to collect the Officers, TNT told me to stay inside the cafe to keep warm while he collected them, and then he would pick me up. About fifteen minutes later I spotted his car outside, so I quickly thanked Dot for the delicious tea, telling her that I would come back soon.
I ran across the road to the car where TNT was waiting with two young Sub-Lieutenants sitting in the back seat. I hopped in the front seat next to TNT, and then turned around to the back seat and said ‘Good afternoon’. The Officers smiled back at me, but I kept quiet as TNT drove us back to the air station, as I wasn’t sure whether it was against the rules to talk to him while he was driving with two Officers in the back, and I didn’t want to get him into trouble.
Arriving at the gates of HMS Heron, a guard came up to the car and I showed him my pass. He then checked the Officers’ passes and we drove on to the Wren Billeting Officers’ hut, where TNT dropped me off. As he lifted my luggage out of the boot I thanked him for looking after me so well, and then asked how I would contact him to find out when he had the time to collect my bicycle and cases.
‘I’ll leave a note at the NAAFI with one of the tea ladies.’ TNT assured me, hurrying back over to the car. ‘Good luck Mary,’ he called as he drove off.
I knocked on the door of the small building and when I went in the Petty Officer said, ‘I was expecting you an hour ago.’ I apologised for keeping her waiting and explained that the driver had to wait for two other passengers arriving on a later train.
The Petty Officer told me that I was to be billeted in quarters at an old Inn in a nearby village, which was five miles from HMS Heron. Transport would be provided to and fro to work each day.
I told her that I’d brought my bicycle with me, and that Transport would be picking it up the following day along with my luggage. I then asked, ‘Am I allowed to use my bicycle instead of the official transport on a fine day?’
‘It’s up to you,’ the Petty Officer said ‘as long as you’re not late for work, but personally, I wouldn’t recommend it at night, especially at this time of year, as the lanes are narrow and dark and with only the light from your bicycle lamp, it wouldn’t really be safe. But, certainly, in the summer it would be all right.’
The Petty Officer then went on to explain that the rules and regulations for the billet were pinned on a board there, and that it was essential I familiarise myself with all the rules. ‘I expect you’re familiar with the system for late passes, permissions, and signing the book and so on?’
I told her that I’d never required a late pass, but that if I intended being late I would ask one of the other girls what to do.
‘This will be your first Christmas away from home, I expect, but you will find it’s a happy time here at HMS Heron,’ the Petty Officer said kindly. ‘We try and make it as homely as possible. Heron is a small air station, so you’ll soon make friends.’
The Petty Officer now handed me a piece of paper with my new address on it and told me to take my suitcase up to the NAAFI, where I could leave it until the official transport arrived to take me to my billet. She then said that the other Night Vision Tester, Anne Briscoe, was not in the same billet as me because she’d specifically asked to stay on the air station. Apparently, she was nervous about being in the countryside. How strange, I thought. Personally, I loved the smell of horses and cows and newly mowed hay; and as I was in Somerset, I thought there would most probably be a lovely smell of cider apples too. I couldn’t wait for the weekend to get out on my bicycle and explore.
I went to the NAAFI and left my case with a kind lady called Bella who told me she would keep an eye on it while I had a meal in the Wren’s mess.
The mess was a home from home, as they all looked the same. I was delighted to find that there were baked potatoes in their jackets for tea and that slabs of butter had been placed on each table along with a bowl brimming with grated cheese. I assumed that all the produce was sourced from the local farms.
As usual, it was noisy with everyone talking at once, but I was pleased to hear happy chatter and see that everyone seemed to be cheerful and laughing. I looked around and saw that all the girls seemed to have healthy complexions; red cheeks, sparkling eyes and wore little or no makeup, which was different to the Wrens I’d got used to seeing at Vernon and Daedalus with their pale faces and bright red lipstick.
Finding an empty seat at a table I sat down and began to eat hungrily, while one of the other girls, still busy chatting to another girl, pushed the butter and cheese towards me. Then the Wren suddenly stood up and yelled, ‘Hands up for tea.’
I put up my hand up with everyone else and watched as she walked over to a big table, put six cups and saucers on a tray, poured milk into each cup, and then tipped in the tea from the spout of an industrial-size teapot. The girl then carried the tray back to our table.
As I was handed my tea, I very nearly said, ‘Thanks awfully,’ but managed to stop myself in the nick of time. One of the girls, realising that I was new here, began to ask me all about myself: where had I been stationed before, what category I belonged to, and where I was going to be living. I took out the piece of paper I’d been given and read out the address.
‘Oh, you lucky thing,’ one of the girls said, ‘You’re billeted at the Inn in Que
en Camel. Us lot are at Charlton Hawthorn.’
We all chatted for a bit and then I excused myself so that I could walk slowly back to the NAAFI to pick up my case and wait for the official transport. As I walked, I noticed the Administrative Office, where the billeting Petty Officer had told me to report first thing in the morning, I asked a Wren where the Paymaster’s Office was, as I needed to leave my pay-book there, and the girl pointed to a path on the left.
I arrived at the NAAFI with plenty of time to spare before my transport arrived, so I went inside and bought myself a cup of coffee. When I went to collect my case, I thanked Bella for keeping an eye on it for me, and then a man’s voice called out, ‘Anyone for Queen Camel?’
As usual the transport was a lorry, but there was a wooden crate acting as a step, which made it easier for us all to clamber into the back. I listened to the other girls chattering as we drove down the dark country lanes and realised that my billet was out in the sticks. Arriving at the billet, I followed everyone around to the back door, and as we entered, I was grateful to discover that the Inn was properly heated.
There was a Petty Officer sitting by the check-in book watching the girls put a tick against their names. When I was the only one left she looked at me and asked, ‘Leading Wren Arden?’
‘Yes Petty Officer, that’s me,’ I replied warily.
The woman looked at me with a puzzled expression and asked if I was the Special Category Night Vision Tester she was expecting. I replied that I was.
‘Ah,’ the Petty Officer said, ‘you’re in training I assume?’ I thought it was easier just to say yes than to explain that I was now as qualified as Anne Briscoe.
‘You’re in Room 8,’ the Petty Officer said. ‘You’ll find it overlooking the courtyard at the front of the building, but watch out as you climb the stairs,’ she warned, ‘the ceilings are very low because that’s how coaching inns were built.’ Then she handed me two pieces of paper: on one was the times of the transport neatly typed out, and on the other, the rules and regulations of the billet. ‘The bath rota is pinned on the bathroom door,’ she instructed. ‘Ask one of the other Wrens about the ablutions block; sometimes you’ll bathe upstairs, and at other times, you’ll use the showers behind the bar. I’m off duty now,’ she said already heading for the door ‘so if there’s anything else you need you’ll have to ask one of the other Wrens.’ She then disappeared through a door at the back of the hall and shut it firmly behind her.
Room 8 I discovered was down a little corridor and on the right. I put my overnight case down and knocked, but there was silence. I opened the door a bit and looked inside. Seeing that it was empty, I went in and noticed that only one bed had been made up and that there was only one set of towels folded on an old-fashioned towel-horse near the washbasin. Is it possible that I’ve got a room to myself, I thought with glee, what luxury!
I needed the lavatory, so wandered along a corridor where I thought the bathroom would be. I came to a sharp bend on the landing and was confronted by three girls standing in a small laundry room. Some of the girls were helping each other put curlers in their hair while they waited for the kettle to boil to fill their hot-water bottles.
‘Excuse me,’ I said politely, ‘is the lavatory near here? I was told there was a bathroom on this landing, or do I need to use the one downstairs?’
‘I’d use the lav’ in the ablutions block downstairs,’ one of the girls suggested. ‘The bathroom up here will be in use for at least the next hour.’ She then gave me directions.
‘May I use the kettle to fill my hot water bottle a bit later?’ I asked somewhat timidly.
‘This kettle belongs to Margaret,’ a girl with pink rollers in her hair replied. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind if you use it, but kettles don’t last very long here, so we take it in turns to chip in and buy a new one every so often. But meanwhile, you’re very welcome to use it.’
‘Are you the new girl in number eight?’ another girl in a green dressing gown asked.
‘Yes I am,’ I said, and introduced myself to them all.
I was too tired to unpack everything, so I just emptied out most of my belongings on to one of the beds and hung up my skirt and jacket. I then summoned the energy to empty my gas-mask case of its gas mask and refill it with the usual lipstick and so on, and also pack my day bag with emergency spares; a shirt, stockings, and so on, which from then on I intended to leave permanently at the Sick Bay. With my hot-water bottle now filled to the brim, and my alarm clock set for seven sharp, I was soon sound asleep.
I awoke the following morning bright and early and quickly got washed and dressed. I was ready far too early, but it was just as well because as the Inn slowly came alive, bedlam ensued with half-dressed girls charging up and down the stairs in their panic to get ready for the transport. Sure enough, it arrived on the dot of eight and drove off at five-past.
After breakfast, I familiarised myself with the air station, so that I’d know where all the various offices were, but saw no sign of the Sick Bay and had to ask someone where it was. I was directed to the far end of the airfield towards the Control Tower, which was a good five minutes walk away from all the other buildings.
It was so different to what I’d known at HMS Vernon and Daedalus, but when I pushed lightly on the Sick Bay’s swing doors, they opened very easily and I thought that they must be used for stretcher access if an accident occurred on the airfield. Venturing further inside, I realised that the Sick Bay here was in fact a mini-hospital. I approached an SBA and asked, ‘Excuse me, does a Wren called Anne Briscoe work in this building?’
The SBA, took his head out of the cupboard, turned around, and grinned at me. ‘Who’s asking?’
‘Leading Wren Arden,’ I said brightly. ‘I’m the new Night Vision Tester.’
CHAPTER 8
1942
I walked towards the Night Vision Tester office, and knocked on the door. A very quiet voice said, ‘Come in.’
‘Hello Anne,’ I said with a smile, ‘I’m Mary Arden. Commander Timpston sent me to help you with the testing.’
Anne Briscoe’s face dropped. She was obviously hoping for someone a bit older and more experienced.
‘Lydia trained me personally,’ I explained, feeling the need to justify myself. ‘I’ve had five months experience, and often been left in charge of the Testing Unit when Lydia was away on leave. I do know what I’m doing and I am here to help you.’
Anne was obviously embarrassed that I’d read her thoughts so clearly, and mumbled something about me looking so young. Then she gave me a rather weak smile and we shook hands. She showed me around the Tester’s office, which looked very bare, equipped with only one typewriter, one chair, no proper cupboards for anything, no table lamps and, looking up at the ceiling, I noticed a naked light bulb without a shade.
‘Where do you keep your things?’ I asked.
‘What things?’ Anne asked.
‘Well, you know all the things you need when you’re shut out of your billet all day?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I see,’ Anne said flatly, ‘I don’t need to bring anything over as I’m allowed into my hut after lunch.’ She pointed out of the window to a Nissen hut next to several others hidden among some trees. ‘That one is mine.’
‘But where do you keep all the stationery? Where’s the electric kettle and coffee-making things?’ I asked.
Anne looked at me as though I’d just landed from the moon, ‘Oh, I don’t make coffee here. You can go to the NAAFI when you have a coffee break, but I don’t bother, it’s too far to go.’ She then bent down and pointed to a box under a long wide shelf beneath the window, where she said she kept the stationery, and the files in the box next to it.
‘We’ll need another typewriter and another chair, so when I put in a chit for those, shall I tell them we also need a filing cabinet and maybe one or two other things as well?’ I asked.
‘Well I suppose you could do that, ‘Anne replied with a worried look on her face,
‘but we could just take it in turns to use my typewriter,’ she suggested, looking almost frightened, as she then explained, ‘Surgeon Commander Lewis is worked off his feet and is very stern. I don’t like to ask him for anything.’
‘You won’t have to, Anne, Daddy-T told me when I left Daedalus that if I found anything that wasn’t quite right, that I should call him and he would speak to the Senior Doctor himself.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t want to make a fuss,’ Anne remonstrated.
‘It’s not making a fuss when you are doing your best and don’t have the proper equipment to do it with,’ I reassured her ‘and, by the way, working under a glaring light bulb like that with no shade is terribly bad for your eyes, and Daddy-T would be horrified if he knew about it.’
Anne smiled now with relief, ‘I’d forgotten what a kind, lovely man he is. I have thought of buying a lampshade, because I do find the glare rather trying in the evenings, but it would have meant going to Yeovil to find one, and to be honest, even if I found my way there, I might not find my way back.’
‘Leave it to me,’ I told her.
I soon discovered that although Anne was obviously lacking in self-esteem, when it came to her job she was very self-assured, and possibly, even more efficient than Lydia.
I asked Anne if she minded if I sat in on one of her tests to see if she did it any differently to Lydia, and if she did, then maybe she would prefer me to do it her way. She said it was up to me.
We went into the Testing room where it felt damp and cold; a small heater of some sort would make all the difference, I thought. Soon six reluctant-looking young pilots turned up, and I positioned myself quietly in a corner and listened.
I was glad that Anne did the test in exactly the same way as Lydia had taught me, very efficiently, but what struck me that morning was that there was not a single laugh during the whole hour we were in the room. As the pilots hurriedly filed out of the room at the end of the test, they looked bored, except for one of them, who waited behind and asked me cheekily, ‘Why were you sitting quietly in the corner Little Miss Muffet?’