Brave Faces

by Mary Arden

  ‘All I want you to do Leading Wren… Arden – damn it, what’s your first name?’

  ‘Mary, Sir,’ I replied.

  ‘All I want you to do when I am conducting a test, Mary, is to follow my instructions to the letter and observe what I’m doing carefully. I want you to write down everything I call out, and using your common sense, if you notice anything strange or different to normal conduct, I want you to jot it down on the facing page.’ He handed me a notebook that had a spiral binding down the middle, and when opened up, it exposed two pages at the same time.

  ‘Does it matter which side I write down your observations and which side I write my own?’ I asked him not wanting to get it wrong.

  ‘No, it doesn’t matter a damn so long as you stick to the same format. I need to go over the notes myself once the tests are over, as I can’t possibly remember what I’ve called out during a test, but it’s important to keep your observations separate to mine. What I suggest is that everything on the left is what I tell you to write, and everything on the right is your comments.’ He paused and then added, ‘As this is the first time I’ve had an assistant we will just have to work out the most efficient way of working together with the least fuss. How does that sound?’

  ‘Perfect,’ I replied, and then I thought that I’d better confess that I might not be able to spell some of medical terms and complicated names correctly at first.

  ‘That’s to be expected,’ Doctor Du Caine reassured me. ‘Until you find your feet, you and I can go through your notes at the end of each test, and I suggest that at the back of the book you make a list of any medical terms with which you’re unfamiliar, and then attempt to learn the spellings by heart. Didn’t they teach you to spell at school?’ he asked, teasing me.

  ‘Yes and I’m word perfect in French, Italian and German, but my English spelling is terrible,’ I replied rather cheekily.

  ‘I am sure we will get on famously, Mary, but when we are doing the tests we must be very serious as the pilots’ lives are in my hands when I am controlling the oxygen valves.’

  As these tests could help save pilots lives in the future, I was determined to do my utmost to be of help. On the way back to the Sick Bay I asked the doctor whether the pilots would be grounded if they failed his test, and I wanted to know if my comments could in any way be responsible for that decision.

  Doctor Du Caine smiled and replied, ‘Don’t worry about that, Mary, whether they pass or fail is all down to me and I always give the chaps a second test before making any big decisions like that.’

  ‘That’s a relief,’ I sighed.

  ‘I don’t expect you to do everything right at first, Mary, but once you get the hang of it, you will be of great assistance to me; doing these experiments on my own I had to write my notes while adjusting the oxygen flow, which as you can imagine, isn’t an ideal way of conducting a test like this at all.’

  After high tea that evening I went to the NAAFI and found a quiet corner where I wrote some letters to my parents and to Duncan and his family, to let them all know that I had arrived safely and that I had some interesting new work, as well as my normal duties.

  I was so busy concentrating on my writing that I didn’t hear the call, ‘Ugadale girls your transport is here,’ but fortunately a Wren who had been on the same lorry as me that morning recognised me, and kindly called out for me to hurry up. I quickly gathered my things, ran out to the lorry, and clambered into the back just in time.

  On our arrival, Petty Officer Brown was waiting in the hall to let me know that two suitcases had arrived for me earlier in the day, and had been left in the garage next to my bicycle.

  Hazel agreed to help me carry one of my cases up to our bedroom, and as we went back upstairs, I couldn’t help noticing that her clothes smelt strongly of diesel fuel. As I began to unpack, Hazel got out of her work clothes and put on her dressing gown, and said, ‘I’m allowed to have a bath every night because I have to do such dirty work, but you can hop in first if you like, Mary, so long as you’re quick.’

  Bliss! From that night on I had a bath almost every night instead of just taking my turn on the rota.

  A week later, the internal telephone was connected to the NVT unit. I was now able to contact Commander Flying to arrange the tests for the mornings only, which then allowed me to assist Doctor Du Caine in the afternoons. I asked the Commander to send only six pilots at a time and politely requested that he get them to refrain from drinking any alcohol for twelve hours before the test, as the booze affected the results.

  When I had my first experience in the simulator with the doctor, I made notes of everything the pilot did during the test just as I had been asked to do. It wasn’t until I had done several tests that I saw for myself how each pilot reacted differently to the lack of oxygen: some became very tense, some lost their temper, but many of them seemed to just relax, and a few of them even started singing or telling rude jokes, but when their language became too blue, Doctor Du Caine suggested that I remove my headphones so that I couldn’t hear what they were saying. He needn’t have worried, however, as I didn’t understand most of the jokes anyway.

  It soon became apparent that once the pilots were at the same altitude in the simulator, as they would be in real life in the air, which was at about 10,000 feet, many of them became disorientated, sleepy or completely irresponsible and unable to understand which controls they were supposed to use. Doctor Du Caine told me that this was exactly why the tests were carried out very, very carefully. The ascent had to be gradual, only a few hundred feet at a time, because fast ascents could prove very dangerous, as the altitude got higher and higher. This point was proved to me when I witnessed one of the pilots pass out; the doctor had to give him extra oxygen very quickly. Afterwards, when the pilot had recovered, the doctor explained to him that if he had been in a real plane he would have crashed, and therefore, he would have to ensure that he switched on his oxygen at a lower altitude than some of the other pilots in future. He then told the now rather shaken young man that he would have to take another test the following week to gauge the correct height at which he should start using his oxygen.

  Doctor Du Caine asked me later what the indecipherable scribbles on the right hand page were, and when I told him that I had written ‘Floppy, drowsy and woozy’ he roared with laughter.

  ‘They sound more like the names of three of the seven dwarves!’ he said, still laughing. ‘I think we might have to think up a list of descriptive words more suitable for use in my official reports.’

  I was a bit surprised when one of the older pilots managed to reach an altitude of well over 10,000 feet, without switching on his oxygen. I thought that he intended to keep going until he passed out, but then he seemed to change his mind, and finally switched on his oxygen. The doctor seemed to be impressed, but I sensed that something was very wrong with this man, and wrote down on my page ‘death wish’.

  The pilot nodded his head, which the doctor took as sign that he was all right and began to lower the altitude in the simulator. Then suddenly, without warning, the pilot put his head in his hands and began to sob uncontrollably. I looked at Doctor Du Caine, but he seemed unconcerned, so I presumed that he had seen this reaction before and put it down to the lack of oxygen. However, my instinct told me that this pilot’s despair was very real; it had nothing to do with the test, but was due to something far more personal.

  When the doctor went through my notes and saw what I had written he asked me why I had thought that the pilot had a death wish. I told him that I had sensed that this man was terribly unhappy and that he had purposely gone without oxygen for as long as he could, because he had lost the will to live, and meant to kill himself the next time he flew at altitude, but he had then changed his mind at the last minute.

  Doctor du Caine looked at me with a frown and said, ‘That’s a bit fanciful, Mary, unless you know something about the pilot that I don’t.’

  ‘No, I have never seen or heard of him
before,’ I told him honestly. ‘I just had this funny feeling that’s all.’

  ‘Do you often get these funny feelings?’ he enquired.

  ‘Actually, yes, I do,’ I said seriously, ‘but I haven’t experienced any for some time, as I usually only get them when I am near to someone who is really distressed.’

  A week later, after this incident Doctor Du Caine came to the NVT office to tell me that I had been right and that the pilot had tried to commit suicide shortly after the test, as his wife had recently left him for someone else.

  CHAPTER 13

  1944

  ‘I am glad to hear he’s all right,’ I told Doctor Du Caine earnestly, when he let me know that the stressed pilot’s attempt to kill himself had failed, and that he was now in the care of the pastoral team.

  ‘In future, if you sense someone is in trouble and you get one of your ‘funny feelings’ again, please let me know straight away, then I can decide whether to act on your impulses or not,’ the doctor said. I could tell that he was rather sceptical about my intuition, and I couldn’t really blame him, as my gut feelings were exactly that and not based on any scientific proof.

  Over the next few days, I made friends with the SBAs and the Wren writers and started to feel more settled, which was a relief, as being posted from one naval air field to another was disorienting at times, and sometimes I’d wake up wondering where I was.

  One morning Commander Flying Douglas Frazier walked into my office unexpectedly and said, ‘Sorry for barging in on you like this, but I wanted to see for myself who this bossy Arden woman was who told me on the phone never to send more than six people at a time for a test and to tell my chaps to abstain from any alcohol beforehand!’

  ‘Good morning Sir, I am Leading Wren bossy Arden,’ I replied a bit cheekily, but as I could see the twinkle in his eyes, I thought it worth the risk to be insubordinate.

  ‘Ah, really, I was rather expecting someone a bit older and more like a schoolmarm,’ he said looking me up and down with approval.

  ‘I am sorry to disappoint you then, Sir,’ I giggled.

  He roared with laughter at my reply, ‘Not at all, I am delighted,’ he said.

  ‘Would you be interested in taking the NV test for yourself Sir?’ I asked, now trying to be a bit more professional.

  ‘I would like to take a look at the set-up first,’ he said. ‘Lead the way, then Leading Wren,’ he ordered.

  Commander Flying was over six feet tall and almost as wide; his very broad shoulders gave him a typical English bulldog look. I escorted him to the NV testing room and then took him inside where I pointed out the six chairs with clips attached to the backs, and explained the procedure in detail. When I’d finished showing him the equipment, Commander Flying sat down and tried out the braille board. I asked him to shut his eyes to simulate being in the dark, and then asked him to see if he could manage to find the metal bars. We then went back to the office where I showed him the forms that we were required to fill in, in triplicate, and explained why.

  He then asked me what proof my department had that the pilots could see better at night if they had no alcohol in their system.

  ‘We have discovered that for some reason alcohol affects the rod cells at the sides of the eyes of anyone who’s had a drink or two before taking the test, even if it’s the night before,’ I told him, and suggested that the next time he drove his car at night after he had been drinking to test his night vision and compare it to another night when he hadn’t had a drink.

  ‘I might just do that,’ he grinned, and then added, ‘I believe you’re very friendly with my counterpart at HMS Heron, Tim Horsfell.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ I told him, ‘and his wife Barbara and the children too.’

  ‘Well, I had a letter from Horsfell the other day asking if I knew of a nearby civilian airfield where you could take some flying lessons. I understand that Horsfell has already begun putting you through your paces, and in his opinion with a bit more flying practice, it would only be a matter of taking an official pilot’s exam. Unfortunately, I had to let him know that there are no private airfields nearby, as this area is far too dangerous for beginners.’

  Commander Flying then thanked me for showing him around, and assured me that when he had more time he would sit in on a test, and promised me that he wouldn’t touch a drop the night before.

  Over the next two weeks, I spent all my spare time exploring the coast road around HMS Landrail on my bicycle. The scenery was spectacular and every time I went for a ride I spotted a huge array of birds, but had no idea what species they were. When I mentioned what I had seen to CPO McPhie, he kindly lent me his bird book, so that I could identify them. The next time I went for a ride, I saw a merlin, a falcon and a buzzard, along with hundreds of seabirds.

  Every time I went out on one of my bicycle trips, I noticed that there was another bike in the garage, but didn’t know who it belonged to. The mystery was solved the following weekend, when I saw a Wren pumping up the tyres.

  ‘Have you seen any seals on your rides yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No I haven’t but I would love to,’ I replied.

  ‘Well I know a place where we might be lucky to see some but it’s a good five miles away along the coast road to the North. I am thinking of going tomorrow, but I get a bit nervous going that far on my own, so would you like to tag along and keep me company?’ she suggested.

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ I replied and then introduced myself. She told me that her name was Veronica Peters, and that she had just arrived back from leave with her family in Sussex.

  The day we went on our seal hunt, Veronica told me that she was a Private Secretary to a Senior Officer, but she didn’t mention what her work entailed, so I presumed that it must be confidential and didn’t ask her any questions about it. We soon discovered that we’d both been to boarding school, and that our schools had played tennis, netball and lacrosse matches against each other, but because she was nine months older than me, and therefore in the year above me, we had never met before. It was lovely to meet someone who had been brought up in a similar way to me. That day we were lucky enough to see not only seals, but also some otters.

  When Rose Bentall, the other NV tester, eventually returned to Landrail, I could see that she was still upset by the death of her father, so I gave her a big hug, and I told her how very sorry I was. She asked me what I’d been doing while she had been away, so I told her that I’d managed to get a new phone extension connected, so that we could make calls directly to Commander Flying, and that I had also asked to have a panic button installed, which she thought was a good idea. I then told her about the additional work I was doing for Doctor Du Caine.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ Rose said and then started to laugh, ‘I don’t suppose you have managed to persuade Surgeon Commander Tapps to take a test too have you?’

  ‘No,’ I replied, ‘I have only met him briefly, when I had first arrived, so I didn’t like to ask him. What’s he like?’

  ‘He is such a kind man and I have never seen anyone work so hard,’ Rose told me, ‘I think that he would be genuinely interested in what we do if he has any time to spare.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him then?’ I suggested. ‘After all, you are the Senior NVT.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly, as I don’t know him very well,’ Rose said, ‘but if you have been cheeky enough to get Doctor Du Caine and Commander Flying to agree to come for a test, then perhaps you are the right person to ask Tapps too.’

  The following morning, an SBA came rushing into our office to say that there was a call for me on the Sick Bay phone. I thought it must be Elaine, as she was the only person that I’d given the number to, but I was wrong.

  ‘Is that Leading Wren Arden?’ a man’s voice enquired, when I picked up the phone.

  ‘Yes,’ I replied, wondering whom it could be.

  ‘I will be in Commander Tapps office in one hour. Be there without fail,’ the man said, and the
n added, ‘it’s about your friend, Elaine.’ Before I had a chance to ask if he had a message for me from her, the man hung up.

  An hour later I went to Commander Tapps office, as instructed and knocked on the door. When I was told to enter, I went in.

  Standing beside the Commander was a high-ranking Army Officer, and I could tell that he was in the Intelligence Corps, as I recognised his uniform. He also looked familiar but I couldn’t place him straight away.

  ‘This is Colonel Sinclair and he has asked me to remain in the room to witness this meeting, so just sit down on the chair over there, and answer any questions that he puts to you,’ Commander Tapps ordered, so I sat down feeling a bit worried and wondered what could be wrong.

  ‘I am most sorry if my presence has alarmed you in any way. Would you mind if I call you Mary in the privacy of this room?’ the Army Officer said.

  ‘No, not at all Sir,’ I replied.

  ‘Now, Mary, I need to ask you some questions about Elaine,’ he said ominously.

  ‘She is all right isn’t she, Sir, she’s not hurt or anything?’ I asked, suddenly fearing the worst.

  ‘Where did you meet Elaine? And how long have you known her?’ he said, without answering my question.

  ‘I met her at the hotel in Tarbert, Sir. But we only spent about twenty-four hours or so together.’ I then looked up and suddenly remembered where I had seen the man before, ‘You’re the Officer that met her on the quay at Campbeltown. Are you Elaine’s boyfriend, Sir?’

  The Officer was lost for words, and I could see that Commander Tapps was trying to suppress a smile.

  ‘If you don’t mind, young lady, I will ask the questions here,’ the Officer reprimanded me gently.

  For the next hour and a half, he asked me one question after another about how and where Elaine and I had met, what we had talked about, where we had been after that, and everything we had done since we met, so I told him everything I could.