by Mary Arden
I felt very scared about what might happen to Duncan on this mission and felt like crying, but instead I offered to help him pack. He gave me ‘that smile’ and then went off in search of his winter clothes.
Father John came over to me and put his hand on my shoulder, ‘I’m so sorry that your honeymoon has been cut short, my dear, but in war time we all have to make sacrifices, and try not to think of ourselves.’
That night as we lay in each other’s arms, Duncan tried to reassure me that all would be well. I promised that I would write often and told him that I quite understood if I didn’t hear from him for a while.
‘It will be just like when I was on ‘ops’ on my aircraft carrier, darling,’ Duncan said calmly. ‘Whatever happens, these last few days have been the happiest in my life, always remember that,’ he whispered, kissing my gently and holding me tight.
The following morning we all did our best to behave normally but everyone was still shocked at Duncan’s sudden early posting and we all sounded a little too bright and cheerful to be convincing.
While Duncan and his father went into Perth to deposit the wedding cheques we had been given, I rang my parents to let them know what had happened and that I would be returning earlier than expected.
I was dreading the moment I would have to say goodbye to Duncan’s parents who had been so good to us, turning their home upside down for the Scottish reception and making the last few days so happy and carefree, but in the end, it was such a rush to get to the station that there was only time for quick hugs and kisses and promises to ring when I was safely home. Duncan had just enough time to reassure his parents that he would use public telephones to call whenever he could, and then a whistle told us it was time to board our train.
When we arrived in Edinburgh, we found a porter to take my big case to left luggage, and then made our way to the ticket office, where we changed the date on my return ticket for the next day. We then caught a taxi to the hotel where we would spend our last night together.
Our room looked very old fashioned, but it was clean and warm with its own washbasin. The bathroom was next door. Having satisfied himself that the bed didn’t squeak, Duncan suggested we make up for lost time, but first he needed to put out everything he’d need for the next day and check that he had all his papers to hand, as he would have to leave at five thirty in the morning. Then he asked me to show him that I had enough money to buy myself refreshments on the way home the next day, and also that I had enough money to tip the hotel staff. ‘I have paid for our room already, darling, so don’t go and do it again!’ he grinned. ‘Now that you are a Scottish housewife, you’ll need to watch the pennies!’ he teased.
We went to a pub for a quick supper, and then went back to our hotel. No sooner had Duncan’s head hit the pillow than he was asleep. So much for making up for lost time, I thought, but I didn’t mind and just lay close to him and looked at his handsome face, fearful that if I didn’t memorise every feature I might forget what he looked like if he was away for too long. Duncan woke up about an hour later and remembering that he was still on his honeymoon and would soon have to leave me, he took me in his arms and made love to me very tenderly.
As we lay together whispering to each other afterwards, he reminded me that I must not tell anyone where he was and I was just to say that he was on a special course for a couple of weeks. ‘If I’m away for more than a month, just tell people that I’m back on my carrier. Please remember, darling, other lives beside mine could be in danger if the enemy learns about what I am doing.’
I assured him that I could keep a secret, and then we both fell asleep again.
I woke with a start when I heard someone knocking at our door. It was the night porter with a tray of tea and biscuits; he called out that Duncan had three-quarters of an hour before his taxi was due. While I sat up in bed drinking tea, Duncan washed and shaved, and every now and then he would turn and smile at me, ‘I’ll most probably be given leave after this ‘op’ ends, so don’t worry, I’ll come and find you in Ireland I promise.’
Once Duncan was dressed, he came over to the bed and kissed me gently on the lips. He then turned to pick up his overnight case, and said, ‘Don’t cry, darling, even if you feel like doing so, or I will as well.’ He then put on his hat, and without looking back went quickly through the door, shutting it firmly behind him. I felt as if I had suddenly been thrown into a freezing-cold bath. I put my face on his pillow and could smell his hair. Then I wept like a baby. ‘Oh Duncan, please be careful and don’t get killed,’ I whispered, ‘I wouldn’t want to live without you!’
I must have cried myself back to sleep, as the next thing I heard was my alarm clock going off. It was now seven thirty. I didn’t have my dressing gown with me, so I put my overcoat over my nightgown and went to find the bathroom, which thankfully, was unoccupied. I ran a bath far deeper than regulations permitted making the water so hot that I almost scaulded myself, but at least I stopped shivering and began to calm down. When I climbed out of the bath, I looked at myself in the mirror, and saw that my eyes were puffy from crying. ‘Pull yourself together and stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ I said to myself and then went back to my room to get dressed and put some powder on my face and a little rouge on my cheeks. I was now ready to go downstairs and face the world again.
When I eventually arrived at Woking station, I took a taxi home and when it drew up outside our house, the front door opened and there was my mother standing there with her arms wide open ready to give me a hug. How pleased I was to see her again.
Back in my own bed that night, I clutched my old teddy bear for comfort and pulled up my bed socks, feeling more like a schoolgirl than a recently married woman.
The following week I contacted Daddy-T to let him know that I was ready to leave for my new posting to Ireland. A few days later I received a letter with all the necessary papers and warrants to get to HMS Gannet enclosed, along with my commissioning letter. There was also a hand-written note from him wishing me all the best and reminding me that if I really hated it he’d bring me home again without delay. ‘You will have to work very hard, and remember that you will be running two units on your own for a while, but I know you will do well, just be well organised and don’t let any bossy bitches interfere or tell you that they know best. Ring me if they try it on and I’ll tell them to bugger off!’
It wasn’t until the last day that I suddenly remembered that I had to sew new nametapes on my uniform and underclothes, as I was now Mary Ogilvie and no longer Mary Arden. It took me all day to do it. How I wished that Aunt Beth hade been there to help me but now I was a married woman I would have to start doing things like this for myself.
As usual my father accompanied me to London where my long journey to Belfast would begin. I was very glad that he did, because he asked the guard to look after me, which he kindly did by moving me from a noisy overcrowded third-class carriage to a first-class compartment, which I shared with three American naval pilots who were also on their way to Ireland. They treated me like a little sister, looking after my every need, even letting me lie down on one side of the carriage while they all squashed up together on the other side, so that I could have a nap. Although it was a long and tiring journey, they made it fun by letting me play poker with them. They were rather surprised when I kept winning, so I explained that I had been well taught by my elder brother Peter. I then shared my sandwiches, that Mrs Green had prepared for me, and they shared their American chocolate bars, which were a real treat and whenever the train stopped at a station, the pilots would take it in turns to leap out and buy us all cups of tea.
When we finally arrived in Liverpool, one of the pilots grinned at me and said, ‘Nice meeting you Mrs Leading Wren Ogilvie Ma’am. Goodbye and good luck!’
CHAPTER 17
1944-45
‘Are you going to HMS Gannet or HMS Shrike?’ a young Officer asked me, on the ferry to Belfast.
‘Both!’ I replied.
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��I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?’ he said obviously trying to work out where, ‘I remember now, it was at HMS Jackdaw in Scotland. You gave me a Night Vision Test!’ He then found me a seat and told me to look out for transport marked Gannet or Shrike, which would be waiting for Other Ranks at the docks, ‘I wanted to ask you to have dinner with me but got posted before I had the chance,’ he said grinning at me.
‘Too late now!’ I said showing him my wedding ring. His grin suddenly disappeared and after making an excuse, he left me on my own. I must have dozed off for a while, as I suddenly woke up feeling a little seasick, so I went on deck to get some fresh air.
It was about five o’clock, when the ferry finally docked. I was feeling extremely tired, having travelled for over twenty four hours non-stop, with only two short catnaps on the way. A young sailor kindly slung my suitcase into the back of the lorry destined for HMS Gannet, and then as I tried to climb in after it, he pushed my backside to help me get in, apologising as he did so, but I don’t think he was very sincere judging by the huge grin on his face.
We arrived at HMS Gannet about two hours later, and when I got off the lorry I was greeted by a rather attractive woman who introduced herself as Third Officer O’Neil. ‘You look a bit pale, I hope it wasn’t a rough crossing?’ When I assured her that I was fine, just a bit tired, she continued, ‘I’ve arranged for you to sleep at Swallow Cottage, which you will find very comfortable and its less than half an hour from the airbase. There are a few rules and regulations, but the other girls will fill you in when you get there.’
When I told her that I would also be working at HMS Shrike, she suggested that as I would be sleeping in a Nissen hut when I was there, it might be a good idea to take only what I needed and leave most of my belongings at the cottage. Apparently the airfields were only a few miles from each other anyway, so that was good to know.
I thanked her for being so helpful and then got up to leave, but as soon as I stood up I had to quickly sit down again, as I suddenly felt faint. She suggested that I should go to the Wrens’ mess straightaway to have a hot meal, while she phoned Lieutenant Commander Mansfield. I then heard her talk to him on the phone asking him to get someone to collect my bags and take them to Swallow Cottage for me. I thanked her for being so helpful and then went straight to the mess for something to eat.
When I got there, I was amazed at the size of the helpings and even more surprised at the quality of the meal. The rationing in Ireland obviously isn’t as tough as everywhere else I have been, I thought, as I tucked into my supper with relish.
While waiting for transport in the NAAFI, I found the telephone block and decided to ring my parents to let them know that I had arrived safely. I then rang Duncan’s parents to see if they had any messages from him for me, but Father John told me that apart from a postcard they had heard nothing. ‘No news is good news Lass,’ he reminded me. ‘Work hard and then the time will fly by, I promise.’
An hour later, I was on my way to my new billet, as usual in the back of a lorry. It was dark outside, so I couldn’t see where we were going but as it was only a short drive to my new home, it obviously wasn’t very far from the airbase. When we arrived, a rather stern looking woman who introduced herself as Mrs Donaghue, the housekeeper, was waiting for me at the side door, which was used by Other Ranks. ‘Your bicycle is in the shed, and your cases are in the airing room,’ she informed me.
‘Thank you Mrs Donaghue, I do hope you weren’t put to any inconvenience when they delivered my things here for me?’ I said sincerely.
The housekeeper’s frown suddenly disappeared and a smile appeared in its place, ‘Not at all my dear, but thank you for asking.’
As we went upstairs, Mrs Donaghue told me how fortunate I was to have a room to myself, as all the other girls had to share three or four to a room. To my delight I discovered that I had been given a pretty bedroom overlooking the garden at the back. Mrs Donaghue then told me that the girls usually had Sunday lunch at the house, so if I wanted to do the same I would find a book in the dining room, which I would have to sign each Friday to let her know, and then she added smiling, ‘You won’t want to miss it, if I say so myself, as I cook the best roasts around here for miles!’
I was now feeling very tired and decided to go and fill my hot water bottle. When I saw a Wren in one of the bedrooms along the corridor, I asked her where I could fill it. She introduced herself as Hannah and told me to follow her. Several other girls were also waiting to fill their bottles. They seemed very friendly and started telling me about the house rules. They told me that breakfast was between seven thirty and eight o’ clock, but had to be eaten in silence and I could have a bath at night, or a shower in the morning, but not both. I must have looked a bit tired and confused, as a girl called Eliza, said, ‘Here, sleepyhead give me your ‘hotty’, I’ll fill it for you while you have a bath, you look like you could do with one!’
I collected my sponge bag and towel and then took her advice and had a good soak. I revived almost at once, and when I got back to my room found the ‘hotty’ already in my bed. Bliss!
When I woke up the following morning, I wondered for a moment where I was, but once I had got my bearings, I made myself ready for my first day at HMS Gannet.
The first thing I did when I got to the Sick Bay was to make myself known to the Chief SBA, CPO O’Connor. He was a jolly middle-aged man who introduced himself with a firm handshake. He told me in a broad Irish accent that the NV Tester, Joanna Hampton, had gone home to look after her mother, as her brother had recently been killed. ‘We were all very upset for her as you can imagine,’ he said solemnly, and then added, ‘You’ll find everything, just as she left it and in working order, unless a few spiders have climbed into the machine!’
Although the office was rather dusty, nothing seemed to be missing, but when I checked the testing room, it was very cold and damp, so I thought I would ask the Chief for an electric fire. I then wondered if the NVT unit at HMS Shrike would be in similar working order and decided to ask the Chief if he could check for me. I then introduced myself to the Wren writers in their office, and just as I was about to leave, a good looking young doctor came to see if he could borrow some ink, so I asked him if he knew whether the Senior Surgeon Commander was free, as I wanted to introduce myself to him.
‘You will have to introduce yourself to me first!’ the doctor teased.
‘I’m Leading Wren Mary Ogilvie,’ I replied.
‘I’m Dr Timothy Flaver, in charge of your unit,’ he said. ‘How on earth do you intend running two NVT units, and be in two different places, at once?’
‘It might be as simple as two weeks here and two weeks there,’ I explained, ‘but it rather depends on how many pilots still require tests. I will work out a plan and get back to you as soon as I have one, Sir.’
‘That’s fine,’ he said, ‘come back to me if you need any help.’
I soon discovered that HMS Gannet’s main task was to support the training fighter pilots, and there were quite a lot of them, so I was kept busy doing tests for the rest of the week.
On Saturday morning, I decided to get my bicycle out of the shed and look for a shortcut to the airbase. I asked Mrs Donaghue if there was a track where I could ride my bike through the woods. She thought for a moment and then said, ‘Go to the bend in the road, where the Navy lorries have to go slowly due to it being so dangerous, and then look out for the big chestnut tree to the right of the road, then get off your bike in case you get yourself killed by an oncoming car, cross over the road, go down a path covered in grass, or mud if its rained the night before, until you see some blackberry bushes tumbling out over the path, and then go left and look for a stile and keep going until you see a white-washed cottage, where my friend Mrs Finnegan and her man live with their many children; you’ll know it’s them as they are the ones not at school, and the young ones pretend to be leprechauns!’ She then took a breath before continuing, ‘After that you go on to the normal tar
, you’ll soon arrive at the aeroplane gates.’
Five minutes later, I set off on my first Northern Ireland adventure, with Mrs Donaghue’s rather odd instructions still swimming in my head. I thought that I could always turn back and use the road, if I got completely lost.
I found my way to the bend in the road easily and then, as instructed, got off my bike when I saw the big chestnut tree, just as she had described. I pushed my bicycle for a while along a muddy lane, and it wasn’t long before the mud turned into a stony track, so I was then able to get back on my bike until I reached the stile, which thankfully had a gap to squeeze the bike through. I continued my journey for a few more minutes and then, just as Mrs Donaghue had said, I heard children laughing and shouting just ahead of me. A moment later, I saw a whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof, which looked in need of repair.
I then found myself surrounded by several bare-footed children wearing clean but well-worn clothes. I had never seen children as poor as this before and had to admit that I felt rather shocked. They ranged in age from about two to twelve. I wondered why the two older children weren’t at school, but soon discovered why. They both had colds.
The children stood silently staring at me, so I got off my bike and smiling cheerfully at them. I said, ‘Hello, I’m Mary!’
Their reaction was not what I had expected at all. Instead of saying hello back, they all crossed themselves and ran towards the house calling out, ‘Mammy, the Virgin is here!’
The front door suddenly opened and a woman appeared, holding a mop in one hand and a pail in the other. After staring at me for a moment, she pointed to my head, and said, ‘It’ll be your hair with the sun shining through it, to be sure, looks like a bloody halo it does, and my Brian said you’d told him your name was Mary,’ and then she laughed, as she added, ‘and the only Mary we know is the blessed Virgin herself, so I hope you haven’t come to chastise us?’