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I was called up in 1943 at the age of 21. I loved home and my family in Mansfield in Nottinghamshire so much that the very thought of leaving home devastated me. As I was apprenticed in the jewellery trade and being a member of the National Association of Goldsmiths I knew full well that I could never be exempt from any of the woman’s’ forces. I had to accept the fact that my calling up papers would soon be on their way and I had had my medical six months previously.

Coming from the jewellery shop on one Thursday I was almost home when I spotted my brother (younger by 9 years incidentally) obviously waiting for me. He was waving and smiling from ear to ear shouting “Whoopee - your papers have arrived — mummy is crying, daddy is crying but not me!”.

Off I went to Mansfield railway station a week or so later with my parents and they waved me off to RAF station Innsworth. As I had not volunteered I could not choose my trade. After arriving at the camp I was given my number “474753 GALE D” and then was marched to a billet. Next we went to equipment where I received my kit bag, knickers (too big!), lisle grey stockings puckered, a bra (just hideous) and to top the lot my cap fell over my eyes. I was wiping away the tears I can tell you, however we coped.

Two days or so later I was ordered to the cook house. A very tall burly RAF Sergeant came in bawling “Gale 753 into the ‘spud’ room”. Wearing clogs and a rubber apron off I went. In the room was an enormous cauldron filled with ‘spuds’ and several WAAF who signed up wanting to be cooks busy pealing the things. I started pealing, tears pouring down my cheeks. One of the WAAF asked what the problem was. I immediately said that I was not staying and that I was going to call my dad to fetch me. She replied “No way!” and immediately I replied “Oh yes I am and my dad is a big man and he will sort that sergeant out!”.

The next step was to see the officer for assessment. I now knew what some of the trades were and I asked to work on pay accounts. The assessor agreed and she sent me off to Penarth in South Wales on a course. I was now wearing a better fitting uniform and cap. I passed the exams ok and was posted to RAF Kimbolton in Lincolnshire. I met an airman there who had been to Cambridge University and he took me on a fantastic tour of Kings College and around the city.

The next move was to Norfolk and then to Davidstow Moor, near Launceston and Tintagel in Cornwall. After this I was posted to Milltown, Elgin near Lossiemouth, it took 2 days on the train to get there. We had to go to London of course and the air raids were so horrific that we were ordered by the Military Police to go down into the underground where we slept head to toe. Vera Lynn was singing on the radio and despite everything morale was just wonderful. The following morning we got back on the train and off to Scotland.

Whilst I was in Scotland peace was declared and it was announced over the tannoy system that “all ranks may associate” and there was dancing in all the messes.
My last posting was to RAF Melksham in Wiltshire where I was working on demobilisation pay for officers and airman. It was all rather strange especially being in a new place. Feeling lost and unloved I was making up my bed when I was asked to go to the NAAFI dance by another WAAF. Whilst there I met my darling future husband Charles Kerridge, from Southend-on-Sea, Essex who was also being demobilised. He had been a Flight Sergeant Wireless Operator/Air Gunner on Wellington bombers. We married in 1948 and were together in Nottinghamshire until 2005 when he sadly passed away.

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