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Ann Ayres/Nee Kidd, LACW2132664-Trade Morse, direction finder.

1942- Joining up: With my twentieth birthday looming, rather than be sent to a munitions factory, I went to RAF Hendon recruiting centre to enlist. I was asked if I had been a girl guide, if so, did I know the Morse code. YES! I was to be in signals. Then off to RAF Innsworth for one month, to be kitted out with uniform and to learn how to march, which I enjoyed. We had all got very proficient and had done our open orders march into three ranks for our inspection by officer and accompanying sergeant, when the girl alongside of me said “you haven’t got your cap badge on!” what to do? I had to break ranks, meet the entourage face on and salute and say I was feeling faint and had to get to the ablutions. The officer dismissed me not noticing the missing cap badge, (which we spent hours polishing) with great relief I went back to the hut and waited for the girls to come back, who then admired my bravery.
1942- Radio school: Compton Bassett. All the signal WAAFS were sent for six months intensive training to learn how to send and receive Morse up to twenty words per minute, and to learn the theory of radio waves by a very patient Mr. Cronk. We all passed and waited for postings.
1942- Magdalene College, Oxford: Wonderful and privileged posting to 143 Salvage group. At my welcoming interview with my WAAF officer she sweetly reminded me that there was to be no fraternising with the under-grads. My wireless cabin was a small study facing onto the High and in these idyllic surroundings I started the first of my three eight hour shifts, which was to receive coded five figure columns sent on a machine from where I was never told!! I was to understand they were weather reports. I was to recharge and lift onto the charging board 12v accumulators for the next shift. I was receiving my codes at twenty words per minute when a note tapped me on the head, I was being ‘fraternised’ would I meet for coffee at the Cadona Tea shop. I persuaded Margaret, my teleprinter op friend, to come with me. We met up, had a happy half hour and we were invited to Merton college for afternoon tea. I don’t think we were allowed in the college for the boys got us to climb on our bicycle saddles and pulled us up over a wall. It was worth it, the conversation was witty and humorous and I met Don there, we became good pals he was taking a two year naval course, but we lost touch through our postings. In the mean time I was still receiving my codes, not much sending. I remember having to be in the teleprinting room and I saw continual lists of all the aircrafts that had been shot down and to be salvaged, but most painful for me were the lists of the missing or dead aircrews, many of which were young Canadians. Eventually I was to leave Magdalene College for another posting back to radio school RAF Compton Bassett for a further three months training to become a Morse Direction Finder Operator, we all passed our exams.
1944- RAF Calshot, Air Sea Rescue- Flying Boats: The D/F hut had to be two miles from camp in a large open field with no obstructions, enabling a clearer signal to the aircrafts. Off I went on my first duty on a bicycle which was left at a house opposite the field. Pushing open the gate there was a herd of cows I had to walk through. Being a London girl I was really frightened of them mooing at me, silly cow! I soon settled in, headphones on, listening for QDM asking for a bearing, the bearing was taken on a Goniometer which was built in the shape of a wheel. I had to rotate the wheel for 360 degrees and then take the reciprocal of 180 degrees and then send the bearing direct to the aircraft, which was either a Sunderland or a Catalina which had been on long range patrol, looking for enemy shipping. When the bearing was given I had to signal for estimated time of arrival, sent back WILCO, will comply. The ETA was then phoned over to the flight control officer on the camp, then the Sea plane tender was sent out, often on choppy waters, to bring the crew back to shore, around this time we were aware something was going on, as we now know the preparations for the D-day landings were in full progress all around, how hush hush it all was, but I was focused on my own work. I was often on duty by myself in the D/F hut, I was enjoying a tin of beans that I must have been issued with, I had my earphones round my neck when I spied the signal officer and some other V.I.P coming out to see what I was up to. I hastily put the can of beans under my chair, headphones on and quickly sent out my victory V code: . . . _, as I believe all operators did in quiet moments to flood the airwaves, all was under control. There was also a rifle in the hut but I was never given any bullets!
1945: War was coming to an end, VE day passed and then VJ day. Our nearest village to the camp was Fawley, and a lot of celebrations took place at the Falcon pub and special services at the church of All Saints which had been bombed in 1940 but beautifully restored now.

After this we all went our separate ways but I would like to say hello to Sandy and Pat and a special hello to Corporal (Micky) Margaret Mckenzie.

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