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My name is Jose - I was known as Jo throughout my service in the WAAF. My surname when I first joined was Starr and then on marriage, Stirling. After the death of my husband I re-married and my name is now O'Mahony. I did my basic training at RAF Bridgenorth in August 1941. My trade training at No 1 Signals School, RAF Cranwell. My first posting was at a Fighterr Group, RAF Ponteland, Newcastle-upon-Tyne. While there a WAAF stationed at HQ Bomber Command applied for an exchange compassionate posting. I volunteered and was gthen posted toHQBC, but was attached to the US Eighth Bomber Command at High Wycombe. Known as RAF Pinetrees or Station 101. Being stationed with the americans was terrific, not only that, the food was good, I never missed a meal-no rationing. We were also allowed to shop at the PX and could buy things which were not available in the NAAFi or civilian shops. As this was Headquarters every US officer who was assigned arrived, and then was re-assigned to the various bomber groups. We had Clark Gable - without the moustache- although it was regrown later. James Stewart who was a dear with same slow drawl, ( he liked his tea). Our Intelligence Officer was Captain Gene Raymond, his wife was Jeanette Macdonaald. We were in Wycombe Abbey school. The message centre (where I worked) was there and next door was the officers mess. One evening there was a special dining-in night, the guest of honour was Churchill, were allowed to have a peek, he was smoking the usual large cigar. After a while we moved from the Abbey and worked in another part of the camp, this time we were underground. We were there until the WAACs arrived and then we were all posted to other camps. It was a very sad day becuase it was a great place to be. However when in the services one goes where one is sent. My next and final posting was RAF Oakington in Cambridgeshire. This camp was the home of No.7 Squadron (Lancasters), a Pathfinder squadron. This squadron was made up of Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians and South Africans (all air crews). I have to say this camp was exciting and no way could one ever be bored. I think the Aussies(as we called them)were the most boisterous. They had numerous drinking toasts- two I will mention here, but whether you will print them remains to be seen. I quote "Two little pillows trimmed with lace, boy and girl lying face to face, everything in its proper place - hot dog. A girl lived on a hill, she wont do it but her sister will, hears to her sister. unquote. The Aussies and the Kiwis used to have rugby matches - that game was played like you have never seen, shorts were pulled off during scrums and a general furore happened during the game. There was a serious side - so many of the crews didn't return, they were all to young. After they had finished a tour of "ops" (30),they were automatically awarded the DFM or DFC and if they opted for a second tour and managed to complete same (not many did), they were then awarded the DSM or the DSO There were so many awards to be given that the King, Queen and Princess Elizabeth came to the camp to distribute same. I still have the photographs. I was demobbed VJ+1 and missed the service life for many years, but then I married my second husband who was a long serving member of the RAF (27 Years).We travelled overseas quite a lot and thisd added to my host of memories. Although my parents lived in Norwich - we originate from Gt Yarmouth. During the war Gt Yarmouth was a restricted area but because I still had relatives there and was in the forces I was able to go there during my leaves. One occasion worth mentioning: We were all swimming in the pool ( the beach was mined so that naturally was out of bounds), when above us was a dog fight - we were so intent on looking at this that wew didn't notice a gerry fighter coming down towards us - somebody shouted and we all dived into then pool - the gerry splayed the area where we sitting with machine gun fire - nobody was hurt, we had a lucky escape. Another incident was a night of incendiary bombing. The parish church (St Nicholas) was badly damaged as was Lacon's Brewery, the outcome of this is that there is no longer a brewery but the church rose out of the ashes and is still going strong. There were an awful lot of casualties - I lost an aunt, uncle and cousin during an early morning raid. In Norwich whenever there the air raid siren sounded, my mother would go to the toilet - it was no good her going into the shelter because she was constantly in the little room until the all clear sounded. Our house too had an incendiary bomb, but the ARP (bless them)put the fire out. Although the house was damaged we were able to remain in the house for the rest of the war and then it wsas repaired and it still standing. There were so many incidents both funny and sad. Maybe my short narrative will ngive a little insight as to what life was like during those days.

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