Brave Faces

by Mary Arden

  ‘No my little English virgin,’ she replied. ‘I would not have done such a dreadful thing,’ and then she began to laugh again. ‘I will explain everything when we go upstairs, but for now, let us just enjoy our meal.’

  As soon as we were back in her room, Elaine explained why it had been necessary for her to be so ‘friendly’ with the two Officers. ‘Part of my work involves asking servicemen questions to find out if the security is good or bad. Sometimes, I have to be a bit flirtatious to loosen their tongues and make them divulge things that they shouldn’t tell to a stranger.’

  Now I understood what she had been doing and why, I rather admired her, but knew that I wouldn’t have the skill or the nerve to do what she had done, and told her so.

  ‘But you played your part as my little sister perfectly!’ she giggled.

  ‘Are all the girls in your unit trained to do this sort of thing?’ I asked, fascinated by the fact that she must be a spy of some sort, and eager to know more.

  ‘Just a few of them, most do much more dangerous work, but let’s not talk about it anymore,’ she said, and began to prepare for bed.

  I went to the bathroom and changed into my striped Army and Navy stores pyjamas, which were hideous, but warm. Elaine, who was brushing out her hair when I came back into the room, took one look at me and burst into hysterical laughter, ‘Oh my goodness me, where on earth did you find those? How unsexy can you get? They look like schoolboy’s pyjamas, and if you continue to wear hideous things like this at night you shall remain a virgin forever!’

  ‘You might think of me as prim,’ I protested, ‘but I see myself as modest, it’s the way I was brought up.’ Elaine was still laughing, as she went to bathroom.

  That night we talked about everything and nothing: English grand old houses, clunky plumbing, Coming-out parties and Debutante balls, my family and her family, and our hopes and fears for the future. When we agreed that it was now time to get some sleep, she said, ‘It would be better if we both had breakfast in our civilian clothes tomorrow morning and don’t change into our uniforms until after paying the bill. That way we can have breakfast together as friends before having to be Officer and Other Ranks again.’

  The following morning Elaine confessed that she loved cooked ‘Engleesh’ breakfasts and would find it hard to adjust to croissant and coffee again after the war when she returned home to France. After we’d finished breakfast, we both went to pay our separate bills at the reception desk, and I overheard Elaine explain to the housekeeper why both of the beds in her room had been used. ‘I found one bed so ‘ard that I had to sleep in the other, which was even ‘arder, so I went back to the first bed again.’ No wonder she’s a spy, I thought, she’s marvellous at telling lies.

  I said goodbye to Elaine and then made my own way to the quay. I was relieved to see that the ferry was already there, so I shouldn’t be delayed any further. As I stood waiting to board, I saw Elaine in her smart khaki uniform and when I looked down at my navy blue serge skirt, I thought how drab it was in comparison. I caught Elaine’s eye very briefly, and she moved her hand in slow motion in a small wave-like movement. She then turned to join a group of other officers before boarding the ferry with them. Moments later, one of the crew told me to board too. I watched, as he tied my bicycle firmly to a rail near a crate of live chickens, several cases of whisky, and various other sundry boxes.

  It was another beautiful clear day, and the sea was calm, which I was thankful for, even though the trip should only take a couple of hours. I remained on deck, entranced, as we approached first one and then another small island to let people on and off. I couldn’t believe it when a flock of sheep was herded onboard and then expertly penned right next to my bicycle. I was starting to feel hungry again; it must be the sea air I thought, as I looked longingly at my bicycle basket, where I had left the extra slice of sponge cake, that I had saved from the café. There was no way I could retrieve it now.

  I was about to go and see if there was a canteen, where I could get a cup of tea and a bun, when I spotted a Naval Rating munching on a sandwich, so I asked him where he’d bought it and he kindly offered to go and get me something too. I gave him half a crown to get me a cup of tea and a cheese roll. The Rating came back with my refreshments and asked if I was on my way to HMS Landrail like him. I told him I was, so he suggested that I sit with them in the covered area until we arrived at Campbeltown.

  My first impression of Campbeltown was that it was a rather picturesque little town. It was at the head of a deep loch and surrounded by hills. Full of anticipation and excitement, as I neared my destination, I wondered if there would be some form of transport waiting to take us to HMS Landrail. We were asked to wait onboard while the sheep were let out of the pen, herded down the ramp, and then loaded into a truck. We then had to wait again while various crates were put neatly on the quayside; and then, finally, the passengers were allowed to disembark. I looked anxiously at my bicycle, and asked the Rating if he’d make sure that the transport lorry didn’t leave without me while I collected it.

  As I stood on the quayside, I scanned the port for a sight of Elaine, so that I could wave goodbye, as I had not seen her disembark, so thought that I must have missed her, but then I caught sight of her hurrying down the ramp from the ferry and walking briskly towards a waiting car, which looked like army transport. She must have spotted me too, because after handing her suitcase to the driver, a high-ranking Army Officer with red tabs on his uniform who saluted her and put her suitcase in the boot of the car, she walked briskly towards me, handed me an envelope, and whispered in my ear, ‘Au revoir petite soeur!’ She then hurried back to the waiting car, the driver opened one of the back doors for her, and they drove away. Golly, I thought, Elaine must be very important.

  A young sailor broke the spell by tapping me on the shoulder to tell me that he had my bicycle and would put it with my case in the back of the second lorry and that I was to sit in the front with the CPO Alec McPhie.

  The road to HMS Landrail was full of potholes, so it was a bumpy ride. On the way the CPO offered to drop my things off at my billet and told me that the Ugadale Hotel, had been an exclusive golfing hotel before the war.

  ‘Gosh! I am lucky, aren’t I?’ I said, delighted at my good fortune.

  When we arrived, a sailor unloaded my bicycle and case out of the back of the lorry and then I followed him, as he took them to the rear of the hotel where there was a garage. ‘Your belongings will be quite safe here,’ he said with a grin, ‘there’s only one farm with a few sheep nearby.’ I laughed and said I hadn’t brought anything precious with me anyway.

  I climbed back into the lorry, next to CPO McPhie, and we continued on our way. I gazed out of the window at the deserted countryside. There were steep hills on one side and a flat gorse-covered wilderness on the other. I could hear the sound of the sea through the open window, and thought how utterly different this was to anywhere else I’d ever been before.

  When we arrived at HMS Landrail, CPO McPhie informed me that operations at this airfield were mainly focused on training, but that it also served as a base for anti-submarine squadrons, which I thought was interesting. After I was dropped off, I checked in with the Billeting Officer, who was not the least bit fussed by my late arrival, and said that she was quite used to personnel arriving several days later than scheduled.

  I went to the Wren’s mess to get something to eat, and as I sat down I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t read Elaine’s letter yet, so when I had finished eating, I began to read it. She said how much she’d enjoyed our crazy bike ride and that she would never forget our tea with treaclies. She then asked me to try and find someone at the air station that she could leave a message for me with, from time to time, so that she could arrange to have lunch with me one day, but added mysteriously, ‘Every time you meet up with me, always wear civilian clothes and don’t tell anyone where you are going.’

  I went to the NAAFI to order a coffee and then waited unti
l the transport lorry arrived to take me back to the hotel. A Wren Petty Officer called Betty Brown showed me to my room, and told me that I would be sharing it with another girl called Hazel Clarke, who drove a petrol bowzer that refueled all the planes on the airfield. I imagined that Hazel must be an Amazon to do such heavy work, as I’d only ever seen men doing that job before.

  After Petty Officer Brown had gone, I looked around the room: we had bunk beds, and Hazel had obviously already claimed the bottom one. I changed into my striped pyjamas and climbed up the ladder to the top bunk. I thought the bunk would be uncomfortable, but to my relief it wasn’t too bad at all, although I was so tired by then that I would have slept on a bed of nails.

  I woke up the following morning to the sound of someone climbing out of the bunk bed below me. Suddenly, I was staring into the face of a girl who looked incredibly similar to me, small and slim with blond curly hair and not the Amazon that I had imagined Hazel to be.

  ‘Hello you must be Mary, I’m Hazel,’ she said with a smile and offered her hand to me. I leant over the edge of the bunk and shook it, but before I could say anything to her, she vanished with her sponge bag to go the bathroom.

  When we were both washed and dressed, we then had time to have a good look at each other and realised that we could be mistaken for twins.

  ‘My goodness, Mary, how alike we are!’ Hazel remarked. ‘The only difference between us is that I’m flat chested and you’re… ’ she laughed and pointing at my bosoms, said, ‘Well, you’re not!’

  Before leaving our billet to go for breakfast, Hazel told me that we wouldn’t have to sleep in the bunk beds for too much longer because we were going to be given a twin-bedded room when one became available.

  On the way to the HMS Landrail, which involved another ride in the back of the transport lorry, I mentioned to her that I had found it hard to locate the Sick Bay the previous evening, so she told me that it wasn’t far from the control tower at the edge of the dunes.

  ‘It’s quite a long walk from the Wren’s mess to the Sick Bay,’ Hazel warned me, so I told her that as I had brought my bicycle with me it wouldn’t be a problem once I knew my way around.

  Although Hazel and I looked quite alike, we soon discovered that we were very different people. She was always talking about boys and wanting to go out for drinks with them whenever she could, whereas I was a church mouse in comparison, and having now met Duncan I had no desire to meet any other men. She told me that her father was a schoolteacher at a boy’s school and that he was stricter with her than he had been with his pupils, so I guessed that now she was away from home, she just wanted to enjoy her freedom. Despite our differences, I really liked Hazel, and thought we would become good friends.

  After breakfast, I found my way to the Sick Bay, just as Hazel had described but as I was a bit early for work, I decided to take a quick look at the sea. Noticing a path that led over the sand dunes, I walked in the direction of the sound of waves pounding against the shore. The shoreline went on for miles and I couldn’t see any houses anywhere. It was a desolate place and yet utterly beautiful at the same time. I stood transfixed as I watched the sand blowing in small circles around the dunes, as though it was dancing just for me, and when I took a closer look at some of the strange looking grasses, I saw tiny clover-like flowers. I must have walked right past a mass of wild flowers on the way to this magical spot, but I could have sworn they weren’t there a moment ago. Then, reluctantly, I made my way back to the Sick Bay.

  When I made myself known to the Chief SBA, Andy Anderson, he told me that I would be working on my own for a while because the other NV Tester, Rose Bentall, had been called away suddenly on compassionate leave, as her father’s ship had been sunk by a torpedo, with all hands lost. I felt awful for the poor girl and told the Chief that I would do my best until she got back. I then rather shamelessly used his compassionate mood to ask him if it would be all right if I could give the Sick Bay phone number to someone just in case they needed to contact me in a hurry. He said he didn’t mind, obviously presuming that I meant that I would give the number to my family in case of an emergency, but in truth I intended to give it to Elaine.

  I then went to the NVT office where there were two typewriters, two lamps, and a filing cabinet, and to my delight after opening a cupboard door I found an old electric kettle, a stained mug and some tealeaves in a screw jar. There was no coffee, however, and so I made a note to myself to buy a new mug and some Nescafé in the NAAFI later that day.

  Underneath the electric kettle, I found an envelope addressed to me, and I chuckled at Rose’s choice of a hiding place. She obviously knew that sooner or later the new NV Tester would go in search of a kettle and find the envelope. Inside there was a scribbled note to say that she had cancelled all the tests that had been booked in, and that I was to ask Doctor Du Caine to re-book them whenever I was ready to take over. At the end of the note she’d written a P.S. which read, ‘Sorry to leave you on your own but my mother needs me, I am sure you understand.’

  When I took a look at the testing room, I discovered that there was no panic button installed, so decided that I would make that one of my priorities. Just as I was leaving the room, a man with a kindly face was walking in and we nearly bumped into each other, which made us both smile. When I saw the stripes on his sleeve I knew that he was my new boss, Doctor Du Caine.

  ‘Good Morning, you must be Leading Wren Arden,’ he said, ‘I’m Graham Du Caine. I’ve come to see if you need any help as you are on your own,’ he said kindly, extending his right hand, ‘I am so sad for Rose, but this is what happens in war I’m afraid.’

  ‘I am sure that I can manage until she gets back, Sir,’ I replied. ‘But what I do need to know is if it’s you or one of the other doctors that make up the NV testing schedule?’

  ‘I’ve been doing it,’ he told me, ‘but if you feel you can organise it yourself, I would be very grateful, as I’m so extraordinarily busy with my research work at present. I will tell you more about that once you’ve settled in.’

  I then told him that I would need his authority to have an extension telephone installed, so that I could ring Commander Flying direct to organise the tests, and I also mentioned the absence of the panic button inside the testing room and asked him if he would give me permission to have one fitted.

  ‘What do you need a panic button for, for heaven’s sake?’ he asked with a smile.

  ‘You would be surprised how many people suffer from claustrophobia. After an hour in a room with no windows it can become quite oppressive I can assure you,’ I explained. ‘And then, of course, there is the safety issue,’ I added.

  ‘Safety? What do you need to be kept safe from when you’re locked in a room with six strapping young men?’ There was a moment’s silence before he added, ‘Oh, I see! I hadn’t thought that through… I will see to it immediately.’

  I asked him if he had ever taken a Night Vision test to experience what it was like and he admitted that he hadn’t, but would be interested to take one and would try to persuade Commander Flying to take one too. He then explained that apart from doing my usual work he would also need me to write notes for him while he did his decompression tests.

  ‘I know this extra work will be difficult, especially with Rose away at the moment,’ he said, ‘but if you can organise your tests in the morning and give me a couple of hours every afternoon, I think we should muddle though it together without causing you too much stress.’

  I spent the rest of the morning going though Rose’s files to see whether she did her NV tests in the same way that I had been taught, and was thankful to see that she did and had only been doing two tests a day, which meant that if I did both of them in the morning, I would be able to keep the afternoons free for Doctor Du Caine.

  At eleven, I felt like having a coffee, so went in search of one.

  ‘I was just about to make a mug for the Chief, so you are in luck,’ a young SBA said, ‘so if you’re not too busy
, why not take a seat and join us?’

  ‘Thank you, I will,’ I said. ‘By the way, I am Leading Wren Arden and I will be working in the NV testing unit.’

  ‘I’m Sandy,’ the young SBA said, as he handed me a mug of steaming coffee, ‘we keep the milk in the fridge for dangerous drugs, so help yourself anytime!’

  ‘Thank you Sandy, and please call me Mary,’ I told him accepting the mug gratefully.

  The Chief, Andy Anderson, then joined us and as we sipped our coffee I asked him if he could tell me anything about the decompression research that Doctor Du Caine was doing. He explained that the doctor was doing some simulation tests to find out how high the pilots could fly and still remain in control of their planes with and without oxygen at different altitudes. So far, he had discovered that some of the pilots could fly responsibly without oxygen at quite high altitudes, while others reacted as though they were drunk at quite low altitudes. The doctor wanted to find out why this was. Now that I knew a little about what the tests were all about, I was intrigued, and was looking forward to helping the doctor with his research.

  Later that same day, Doctor Du Caine asked me if I would like to see where he did his experiments. I followed him out of the Sick Bay and we started to walk towards one of the other Nissen huts, but instead of going into the building, we continued on for a short distance until he suddenly stopped, and pointing at a large caravan said, ‘There. That’s my research unit.’

  I thought that he was joking to start with, but when he opened the caravan door and we went inside, I realised that he was dead serious.

  The doctor explained that the pilots sat in a sealed section at the front, which was a mock-up of a cockpit, while he sat at the back next to a series of controls. I noticed that there were large oxygen cylinders fixed to the wall, and beside them was another console of dials, which the doctor told me were like the dual controls in a training plane.