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Joining up…

I was 15 years old when war broke out and it wasn’t long before some of my friends and I started to wish we were older so that we could join the WAAFs. As time passed, the others forgot but I didn’t.

When I was 17 I made my way to the recruiting officer in Belfast and applied to join. When asked my age, I said “Seventeen” and was told to come back when I was 17 ¼. This I duly did.

When my call-up papers arrived sometime later, it suddenly occurred to me just what I had done! However, the day arrived and, after a farewell tea, my father and sister escorted me to the boat in Belfast. From memory, any recruits on board were herded down to what looked like cattle stalls. It was not a good introduction.

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Eventually I arrived at my first station, Bridgenorth, where I did square bashing (yes, girls did that too). I was very homesick for quite some time but, eventually, I settled down. I was not there many days before someone pinched my purse. Innocently, I had left the purse on my bed while I went to the ablutions (the toilets) so I had to “wise up” quickly.

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After the initial training at Bridgenorth, I applied to become a teleprinter operator and, for this, I was posted to Cranwell. I really enjoyed the course and made some very good friends.

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My first posting as a teleprinter operator was to Aldergrove and, as I came from Northern Ireland, I was able to go home occasionally on my days off.

At Aldergrove we were billeted in huts which were quite remote and my hut was the farthest away from the ablutions - this was not very convenient!! The baths often had no plugs and the solution to this problem was to bung the hole with ones flannel then jump in, quickly remove the flannel and push ones heel into the plughole! I can remember lying in bed and hearing the rats scurrying about on the roof. Fortunately, we never encountered any inside!

I made some good friends at Aldergrove and I have kept in touch with one — albeit only by lengthy newsletters at Christmas. She is known as “Scan” to me but her real name was Lillith Roberta Scanlan. I was devastated when she was posted away.

Castle Archdale…

My next posting was to Castle Archdale — a camp in a lovely setting near Enniskillen. I have been back to visit it in recent times.

I was not there long before I met my first love. He was a wireless operator and a U/T (Under Training) pilot. I’d better not give his name but it all ended when he went to Canada.

I remember one unpleasant experience I had whilst on night duty. The Pilot Officer on watch rang for me to go to his office - this was quite in the line of duty - but, alas, what he had in mind did not fall into this category! He immediately locked the door and asked me to make his camp bed up. Unfortunately, sleeping was not on his mind and I had to put up a good fight to preserve my honour. Of course, a mere LACW (Leading Aircraft Woman) didn’t report such things in those days. Another lesson learned!!

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My last posting was to Derby House, Liverpool at headquarters of Coastal Command. Here, a happy coincidence occurred. I met up with my friend, Scan. In fact, we were billeted in the same house in Huyton. This was a large house of grand proportions — but no comfort for us! It was bitterly cold in winter — in fact we used to sleep in our great coats.

Scan and I got up to some pranks and a particularly memorable one was when we “borrowed” a statue from the garden of one of the mansions in Huyton. We carried it back to our billet and planted it next to one of our sleeping comrades for her to view when she woke up in the morning. (The statue was returned next day!!)

I spent my 21st birthday in Liverpool (on Christmas Day) and I remember it well. I was in the canteen, someone had spread the word and I had to stand on the table whilst they all sang “Happy Birthday”.

Another thing happened at Liverpool — I met my husband, Geoff Hirst. We have four children and will have been married for 60 years next July.

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