ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

At age 19 in 1942, whilst working in a clothing factory making kit bags, I was called up to join a service, as were all young women, as it was considered my job could be done by an older woman. After an interview, I was given the choice of going into a munitions factory up North or volunteering for the forces. I wanted to travel, so I volunteered for the Air Force. I was attached to Fighter Command, Fabric Worker Aircraft, i.e. doing the camouflage on the aircraft. When a ‘plane came back that was damaged, it was repaired on our camp. We were the last to go on and renew the camouflage with a spray gun. Because we used Dope to spray, and the fumes were harmful to the lungs, we were allowed a pint of milk a day.

Mainly it was a happy time. I enjoyed the comradeship, cycling to the pub in the evenings, dancing and going to the cinema. There was a dance every Saturday night. On one occasion a local farming family invited us all in for someone’s birthday party. We had a whale of a time. Another time, Ralph Reeder came down to our camp and put on a musical stage show.

Inevitably there were also sad times. An example was when a friend, who had just got married on her last leave, received a telegram saying her husband was missing, believed killed. He’d been on his first flight having been married only a couple of weeks. She carried on with her work and I believe she always hoped she’d hear he was alive. But this didn’t happen. This was the saddest memory for me.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.