by Mary Arden
I tried to imagine what it must be like for those poor pilots who would be frantically looking at their instruments to tell them where they were, and at the same time, straining their eyes to search below for familiar landmarks. I knew that all the pilots had practised landing in simulated mist or fog situations before, but this was a real pea-soup fog, and I wondered how they could possibly know where the sky and sea met. I then wondered whether the NV tests I had given these young men would be any use to them in this situation, and decided to ask them when they got back.
I remembered that Duncan had told me that it was almost impossible to make the right decisions when visibility was nil and you begin to panic, so with this in mind, I began to pray for them all.
Thinking I should offer to do something useful, I went in search of the SBAs to offer my services if a plane had to crash-land on the runway. When I arrived at the Dispensary, I was surprised to see that it was deserted. Glancing down the corridor towards the main doors, I realised why: the SBAs and doctors were busy loading First Aid equipment and several stretchers into ambulances. I felt my stomach tighten with apprehension.
Doctor Du Caine noticed me hovering near the door and asked me to ring the electrical department to ask Chief Sparks to bring as many spare torches and Very lights he could find, so I hurried to the nearest telephone to make the call. The very moment I hung up, an alarm bell rang in the Accident Room. This was the signal to alert the medical team that a plane had been spotted trying to land.
When I went outside I saw two ambulances disappear into the mist, and could only just make out a Rating waving barely-visible lamps in front of each vehicle in an attempt to guide the ambulance drivers along towards the runaway. I then heard the sound of a spluttering plane overhead and hoped that the pilot would land safely. I waited for a few minutes, and when there was no sickening boom of an aircraft crashing to the ground, I felt strangely relieved.
Just as I went back inside, the telephone rang, but before I could get to it one of the Wren Writer’s answered it. After she hung up, she told me that a plane had crashed into the sea, and asked me if I would go to the Control Tower to tell Commander Flying what had happened, as quickly as possible, so that he could call the coastguard. They would then send the local lifeboat out to try and locate the surviving crew.
When I went outside, I saw a naval messenger getting on a motorbike, so I asked him if he would go to the control tower for me, as it would save time. He readily agreed, telling me that his brother was in one of the planes that hadn’t come back yet. When I went back inside the building, I told the Wren Writer that I had asked a Rating to deliver the message, and she smiled back at me, saying that two planes had just managed to land successfully between the flares.
An hour later, when none of the other planes had returned, we had to accept that our worst fears had been realised.
CHAPTER 14
1944
The recent loss of their friends in the fog must have preyed heavily on the minds of the pilots, as they practised their ‘circuits and bumps’ on the runway, which had now been marked out to represent the same size area that they would have to land on the new and smaller Escort carriers. Landing on the real thing would be difficult when the ship was pitching and rolling, so it was vital that they got it right here first. They also had to practise formation flying, dog fights and various other exercises designed to increase their familiarity with their planes capabilities. The pilots did all this without complaining, but it was obvious to everyone that their morale was low, so the Station Captain decided that he would call a meeting with Commander Flying and some of his other colleagues to discuss the situation. In the end it was Doctor Du Caine who came up with a possible and apparently popular solution. A Pin-up girl on the runway!
‘I told them we should find a wee lassie, that was preferably ample in the bosom-department, and give her some ‘paddles’ to guide the planes in as they land, and for some inexplicable reason, I thought of you!’ he told me after the meeting.
I was shocked at first, and then rather offended by his remark, but he had said it with such a cheeky grin, that in the end I just laughed and said, ‘So what am I expected to do?’
It was an outrageous idea, but as none of them could think of a better solution, it was now the doctor’s task to persuade me to ‘do my bit’ to boost morale. I was more than a little hesitant, but he must have sensed it, and made a last-ditch attempt by appealing to my naivety. ‘You know, Mary, I do believe the ultra violet rays would do you good. It can’t be healthy for you to be continually cooped up in that Testing Room every day and I think it would do you good to be out in the fresh air.’
Oh well, if that’s what it takes to boost the pilots’ morale then so be it, I thought. The only problem was, that I had never ‘batted in’ a plane before.
When Commander Flying heard that I had agreed to take on this role, he promised to train me himself, but told me that the Admiralty must never know about it.
The next day, the Duty Officer took me over to see the Chippy, who was then ordered to make a box-sized plinth for me to stand on.
‘I’ll leave it to you to work out how high and wide it should be,’ the Duty Officer told the Chippy, ‘but for goodness sake please make sure that it’s heavy enough not to tip over, just as she starts waving the ‘paddles’ around!’
I was then summoned to the runway for my first lesson with Commander Flying. He was a patient teacher and explained exactly how I had to move the ‘paddles’ so that the pilots knew whether or not it was safe to land. He taught me how to do a ‘wave-off’, which was the order to abort the landing and go around for another attempt and then he showed me ‘the cut’, making a slashing motion at his throat, which meant that the pilot must reduce power and land his plane.
‘There is no room for error,’ he warned, ‘and it is vital that you make the exact same signals the pilots are used to seeing on their aircraft carriers.’
Commander Flying told me to familiarise myself with the different shapes of the aircraft, so that I could tell one from the other. He then handed me over to the Duty Officer, who assured me that I would never be out of sight, so not to worry too much.
On my first day of ‘batting in’ aircraft, I felt a bit nervous but soon got the hang of it and fortunately waved my ‘paddles’ correctly, so that all the pilots landed safely.
I have to admit it was also heaven being out on the runway during what was an unexpectedly hot spell. I enjoyed the cool breeze that blew in from the sea, loved the sensation of the wind catching my curls, and was delighted by the change to my complexion; a healthy sun-kissed glow.
During their training, all the pilots had been taught to never, ever, play the fool when doing their ‘circuits and bumps’ but once it got around that the new Runway Control Officer was a shapely Wren, the pilots began to bet with one another as to who could land closest to her. My bosoms had apparently provoked quite a lot of rowdy laughter and schoolboy remarks at the time, as the pilots were using their aircraft rather like darts, aiming for a double bull’s eye. I was reliably informed that morale had improved enormously lately!
Everything went well for about ten days until one silly young pilot decided to show off, waggling the wings of his aircraft as he came in to land, and not realising that another aircraft was still on the runway. I didn’t have time to call for help or use the special code for emergencies, so I frantically waved at him to go round again, until, thank heavens, he noticed the other plane and did what he was told. When the Duty Officer realised that there had nearly been an incident, he came running out to see if I was all right.
‘I’m sorry Sir, but I didn’t have time to call you, so I just indicated to the pilot that he had to obey my command and circle again.’
The Duty Officer asked me if I knew which type of aircraft had been at fault and whether I knew the pilot.
‘You won’t tick him off too hard, will you Sir?’ I asked him. ‘He is still very young and I expect
he had a bet on with one of the other Officers that he could frighten me off my box.’
It didn’t take long before I became the ‘Pin-up’ that Doctor Du Cane had predicted I would become. A young Officer called Jasper Cooke, who had been an art student before the war, drew a cartoon of me with my ‘paddles’ batting-in a plane. He had depicted me standing on a box, that looked more like the plinth of a Roman statue, and of course, he had also over-emphasised my breasts and curves in general. One of his friends liked the cartoon so much that he’d asked if he could buy it, but Cooke had a much better idea and made numerous copies of his drawing, which he then sold for half a crown each, and by the end of the week, he had earned enough cash to buy himself a bottle of malt whisky.
I went into Campbeltown the following Saturday to do some shopping, and when he dropped me off, the van driver told me to make sure I was standing at the designated pick up spot at exactly five to five that afternoon, as he had to pick up a VIP Officer from the ferry terminal at five and then take him back to the airfield before taking me back to my billet. I made sure that I was ready on time and it was just as well that I had, because when we arrived at the quay, we saw that the ferry had arrived early and the passengers were already starting to disembark.
A tall, thin man walked up to us carrying a large suitcase, and handed it to the driver to stow for him on the back seat, next to me. However, I could see that there wasn’t going to be enough room for his luggage, and me, and all my shopping bags too, so I offered to take the bus back, but our VIP passenger, who introduced himself as Commander Jack Kit, insisted that, as we would only be travelling a short distance to the airfield, he would be happy to share the front seat. As I was sitting in the middle seat, my legs kept getting in the way of the gearstick, which was a bit awkward for the driver. The road was full of potholes, and I kept sliding to the floor, so the Commander kindly offered me his arm to steady myself.
‘Thank you, Sir,’ I said, apologising every time I gripped his arm when we went over a pothole. The Commander then put his arm behind my shoulders, so that he could stop me falling forward.
At the next corner a lorry tried to squeeze past us and the driver had to swerve to avoid hitting it. As I lurched forward, I felt the Commander’s arm slip from my shoulders and grip my waist, and as he did so, his hand accidentally touched my breast. I flinched, suddenly remembering Rodney’s unwanted advances, but managed to regain my composure quickly, as soon as I saw the Commander’s face. He was obviously more embarrassed than I was.
As we got closer to the airfield, I spotted a buzzard out of the window, ‘Oh, Sir, do look!’ I exclaimed. The Commander smiled and told me that he loved birds, so I suggested that he should get in touch with CPO McPhie and ask him to take him out bird watching one evening on the dunes.
Two days later, Commander Kit turned up at the Sick Bay, just as I was finishing for the day, to ask me if I would introduce him to CPO McPhie personally, so that he could organise a time to go bird-watching with him. The two men got on like a house on fire straight away and were soon talking about bird species that I had never heard of before. About twenty minutes later, the Commander looked at his watch and said that he had to get back to the wardroom, and as I wanted to go to the Wren’s NAAFI, I said I’d walk with him back to the airfield.
Commander Kit told me that he had been working with Commander Flying in the control tower earlier that day, and had seen a young girl standing on a box on the runway batting-in planes, which he had thought was highly unusual. Commander Flying had then explained to him about the recent tragedy and why they had chosen a temporary female Runway Control Officer to boost morale.
Commander Kit then looked at me and said, ‘The girl looked remarkably like you, but obviously it couldn’t have been, as you would have been busy doing NV tests wouldn’t you?’
‘Actually, it was me,’ I confessed, ‘but nobody is supposed to know about it, as the role is strictly unofficial.’
‘Don’t worry, Mum’s the word,’ Commander Kit said with a chuckle, ‘actually I knew it was you already, as Commander Flying told me and made me promise to keep it under my hat!’
When we reached the NAAFI, I saluted him and said goodbye. Commander Kit hesitated for a moment and then asked, ‘When I go bird watching with CPO McPhie would you like to come along too?’
‘I’d love to,’ I replied, and then we went our separate ways.
On the following Friday morning CPO McPhie left me a note saying that he was taking the Commander bird watching that evening, so I should meet them at six o’clock by the gate that led to the dunes. After work, I put on some long navy-blue trousers and a pullover, and went to meet them. CPO McPhie had brought along his son, so there were now four of us.
As we walked across the dunes, every now and then the Commander would give me his arm to steady me, just as my father had done when I was a child.
‘Over there!’ CPO McPhie whispered.
We all lay down on our stomachs amongst the rather prickly tufts of grass on the dunes. Commander Kit offered me his binoculars to look through and I spotted some oystercatchers on the shoreline. Over the next hour, we spotted a variety of sea and shore birds and then as the sun began to go down, I whispered to my companions that I had to go or I would miss my transport.
The next day, I was back on the runway, batting-in four planes that were practising circuits and bumps, when I suddenly noticed an unexpected fifth plane approaching the airfield. I wondered whether it was in trouble and needed to make an emergency landing, so I decided that the best course of action was to treat it as a potential emergency anyway and give it priority over the other aircraft. This meant that I had to signal the four planes to circle again and again until given permission to land after the fifth plane had landed safely. I was about to signal to the Duty Officer to alert him of the problem, but I could see that he had his feet up and was enjoying a cigarette, completely oblivious to the situation, so feeling confident that I had everything under control, I decided to bat-in the fifth plane without bothering him.
I looked along the runway to check that it was clear for the fifth plane to land and couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a man in uniform walking slowly towards me. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to walk on the runway while aircraft were trying to land. I wondered who it could be and to my surprise, saw that it was Commander Kit. And then to my astonishment, he walked right up to me and then knelt down on one knee at the foot of my box, seemingly oblivious to the plane trying to land, and said, ‘My dear Mary, would you do me the honour of marrying me?’
I couldn’t believe my ears. I had only just met this man. Was he mad?
Suddenly the fifth plane began its descent, so I waved him down and then frantically waved at all the other planes to keep circling.
Meanwhile, the Duty Officer must have finally seen what was going on, and was now running towards us at full speed. As he got closer, he looked at Commander Kit who was still on one knee waiting for my reply, and shouted, ‘Sir, please leave the runway at once. You are putting the planes in danger.’ He then took Commander Kit by the arm and all but frog-marched him towards his hut.
My legs were now shaking, not just because of the potential emergency situation, but also because of the unexpected proposal. When I had batted-in all five planes safely, my legs finally gave way beneath me and I sat down on my box with my head in my hands and wondered what on earth I might have said or done to give the poor Commander the idea that I might consider marrying him after such a short acquaintance.
Commander Flying decided to walk over to see if I was all right, and said, ‘Well done Mary, you did well to keep your head and get those planes down safely. I witnessed the whole thing from the control tower, but didn’t want to interfere in case I made things worse.’ He then patted me on the back and said, ‘You’re the best Temporary Acting Runway Officer we have ever had, or ever likely to have again, but we really can’t have our chaps proposing to you while you are on duty, can
we my dear, so I think its time to send you back to your NV testing duties, don’t you?’
It was only then that I saw the funny side of the whole situation and began to giggle. Commander Flying laughed too and said, ‘Commander Kit has obviously spent too much time in the laboratory and not enough time living in the real world. Meeting a pretty girl like you must have put his brain in overload poor chap!’
A week after this incident, I was told to go and collect a registered parcel from the naval postal depot. It was quite heavy, so I thought my mother must have sent me an extra pair of walking shoes or something like that. When I opened the parcel, it contained an old fashioned wooden box. I slowly opened the lid and looked inside and then screamed when I saw its contents and slammed the lid down again quickly. It was like looking inside a treasure trove or Aladdin’s cave, as it was full of rings, necklaces, broaches and clasps, many of which had precious stones arranged in old gold settings. They must be worth a fortune, I thought. I then saw that there was a note tucked inside the lid from Commander Kit.
‘Although you didn’t say yes, you didn’t say no either. So if you say yes now, all these jewels will be your engagement present.’
I read it again and then burst into tears, it was all too much. Surgeon Commander Tapps, who had been next door, must have heard my sobs, as he came rushing in to see why I was crying.
‘Good God, girl!’ he gasped, ‘what the hell are you doing with all those precious things in a place like this? Has someone left you the crown jewels?’