Love and War in the WRNS Read online

  13.12

  Another thing, which will prove most useful – [Paul’s] promised to get me all the stockings I need from Canada, so I won’t have to be a plain Jane in lisle after all. Oh goody goody!

  It is hard to imagine that a letter posted in the morning would sometimes arrive on the same evening, hence the habit of writing daily which give the letters a conversational stream-of-consciousness quality. One thing my grandmother was good at sending was parcels. She used to send me her famous Be-ro (a type of flour from Newcastle) fruit-cake to boarding school, completely forbidden, and we would have midnight feasts. It must have been immensely cheering for Sheila to have parcels from home at this rather bleak time:

  St Leonards Hill, Dunfermline

  9.10.40

  My Dear Mummy,

  I was terribly thrilled to have the parcel, and everyone was most inquisitive and jealous. The cake went down well (we had some last night) and the apples are just what I’ve been wanting – I adore chocolate fingers too! Now I can go skating which will be great fun; the rink is half ice and half dancing. Another great thrill was to have a letter from Paul. He’s still working hard, and doesn’t think there’s much chance of having leave yet a while; however, it will be quite easy to come and see me if I am still here. So these two things cheered me up no end, and I felt very gay the whole afternoon and evening. But somehow getting up at 7 o’clock dims one’s high spirits!

  St Leonards Hill

  Dunfermline Fife

  11.10.40

  My dear Mummy –

  I don’t know whether I thanked you for everything you sent me, corselette etc. But here goes! I know I’ve asked for my slacks but I’m wondering whether they are suitable for hockey and should I have my navy blue shorts as well (if I can get into them) and my hockey pads. Not stick also, as Ines has. I think I’d better send you some laundry tomorrow, when Ines is free and can post it. I may not though because we can send laundry to a place here.

  It is extraordinary to think of sending washing home by post!

  St Leonards Hill,

  Dunfermline.

  17-10-40

  My dear Mummy –

  Thank you very much for your two parcels and notes. The skirt I wore this afternoon. I shall take the biscuits with me when I go on early watch. As for the stockings, I don’t wear any at all for hockey so far, but anyway, they’ll be useful to wear with uniform. I think that’s all but if I have left anything out, don’t get worried – it’s only my bad memory.

  Mayfield

  Arbroath Road

  Dundee

  28.10.40

  My dear Mummy,

  I must now thank you properly for the parcel – the chocs are divine and Joy and I are having grand feasts. The towel came just in time – I’m wondering whether I ought to have another in case I’m here for some time. Miss Smith’s successor is coming in tomorrow, and so Miss Smith will probably go with her. I wonder, then, what will become of me. There isn’t a lot of typing, but it’s all much more informal than at Rosyth.

  Mayfield Hostel

  Dundee

  5.11.40

  My dear Mummy.

  Thank you for your letter and the parcel with the jacket – I was so thankful to get it as it’s much colder here and I haven’t much to wear. I’ve finished my cardigan, but haven’t got it sewn up yet. We loved the chocolate – it was most welcome.

  Mayfield

  10.11.40

  My dear Mummy,

  Thank you so much for your letter enclosing the £1 and the parcel of clothes. I’m writing a separate little note to Daddy. No I won’t wear the slacks for hockey – I wear my navy skirt which is just about right, tho’ a little long. I suppose gym slips were given away ages ago. My lilac frock is marvellous – I INSIST on knowing how much she charges and also the black evening frock. Why should you pay for my things? Yes, my clothes are warm enough – we have central heating.

  Mayfield

  10.11.40

  My dear Daddy –

  Thank you so much for the £1 – as a matter of fact I was getting rather short as Cochrane II owe me 18/- and haven’t sent it to me yet. It’s nice to feel £1 in your pocket in case of jams!

  Well, how’s Durham these days and the ‘A.R.P.’ We’ve had a lot of bombs near here, just up the road to be exact, but they did very little damage. But they did hit a power station to the North of Dundee and did a lot of damage I believe. We sit tight in the cellar, and everything is most dull – I hate being below ground for fear of being buried, but Mayfield is a huge building and certainly wouldn’t fall down like a pack of cards.

  Apparently, unless there’s lots of work to be done, I get Sunday and Saturday afternoon off each week, which is grand. We play hockey on Saturday afternoon, but everyone is terribly bad, I quite shine!

  I’m looking forward to Xmas leave – whether I shall get it bang at Xmas I don’t know – but shall get some, anyway, unless there’s a major Wren crisis. I really think I’ll have to rush it’s 9:20 and service at 10 and I haven’t even got up yet and I’ve got to go down to the house. So sorry this is so scrappy. I told Mummy all the real news I think.

  Lots of love and thanks,

  Sheila.

  ❖❖❖

  Despite her reservations about the move to Dundee, she finds it ‘very nice’. They are billeted at an enormous old house, Mayfield, and work in an old orphanage, known as HMS Ambrose. She lets slip, as a sort of by-the-by, that she did enrol despite her gloom at being a rating, and the long wait for a commission:

  … very difficult because I am not 21 yet. I don’t think for one moment they’ll give me one before I’m 21 … I think I’m resigned to staying in the Wrens now pretty well. I do wish I could get a commission – the people would be much nicer and I know I should enjoy it more. I don’t mind being a rating at all if I thought I should get a commission eventually – it’s the hopeless feeling of being a rating for ever that gets me down.

  Mayfield Hostel,

  Arbroath Road

  Dundee.

  21.10.40

  My dear Mummy,

  Here I am at Dundee and I’m liking it very much at the moment! I’m working for 2nd Officer Smith in the Drafting Office – she’s very amusing: vague, friendly and going to be married shortly. The typewriter is appalling and consequently I have great wrestles with it. I arrived this morning in the pouring rain and got soaked. Mayfield is an enormous house – mansion really – there are very few Wrens here at present but there will be shortly. I’m sharing a large room with another girl, Joy Fisher, who is very sweet. She’s feeling rather miserable. She’s been here since Saturday, as a steward, because she wasn’t qualified for anything else. Stewards work very hard – just housework actually. Joy is married to a film producer in London who has volunteered for the Navy. They have given up their flat off Sloane Square. We have had our supper, bathed and come straight to bed. The other girls are rather house-maidy – but we get very good food, and my room looks out on to the sea – the river I should say. I like Dundee, but don’t really want to stay here as it’s such a long way away. I may of course, be transferred here permanently.

  On the other side of the house lots of Dutch officers are living (hush). Soon, however, they are going to be moved and English officers are going to be sent here.

  Oh, I forgot to tell you, I’ve enrolled – rather unwillingly I’m ashamed to say. But I really couldn’t get out of it. I don’t know when I shall get my uniform, but I would like those shoes please, because all mine let the water in. I don’t suppose I shall be kitted till I get back to Dunfermline.

  We went to a concert last night which was rather fun – rotten really, but was amusing. There were lots of Poles there.

  Please would you send me some bath towels and a face towel, because we have to have them here. Actually one of each might do, as I don’t expect to be here very long. Of course, you never know tho’. But I’ve left half my clothes at Dunfermline.

  I really
must stop now. It’s 10:20 and I’ve been in bed since 8:30. Joy wants to go to sleep I think. I may add more tomorrow if I’ve time.

  Tons of Love

  Sheila.

  No time: off to work. Thank you for your letter. Will write tonight.

  She and Joy become inseparable; it’s fascinating that Joy, who is obviously middle class, is working as a steward, along with all the ‘very young – domestic servant types – and rather rough’. Sheila is still hankering after people from a similar social background (her mother’s upbringing beginning to show perhaps?):

  I do wish we could meet people of our own kind whom we could visit or go out with. Life is so mundane and dull mixing with the servant class the whole time. Not that they aren’t nice people – they are. But you get so tired of living with them and they scream about the place so.

  Good company appears in the form of the Dutch naval officers referred to in Sheila’s letter of 21 October, billeted in the other half of Mayfield House, and she seems content at last:

  133 Ferry Road,

  Carolina Port,

  Dundee

  30th October 1940

  My dear Mummy,

  I was pleased to get your two letters this morning … I had to rush off to work in the rain, and so didn’t have time to read them. But now I have (not the enclosures, though) and so here is a quick answer, until Miss Smith arrives.

  This is a very funny typewriter, so don’t mind if my typing isn’t all that can be desired. Apparently it was dropped when they brought it up from the base here and it hasn’t been the same since.

  Well, things look a little brighter. Joy and I decided we’d go skating on Sunday, so off we went. She had never been before, but proved very brave and got on terribly well. There were millions of people there; we thought if we went on a Sunday, it would not be so crowded, but it turned out to be cheap night. However, round we went. Joy saw one of her Dutch officers whom she valets, and he took her round. Then a little Pole helped her, and whilst this was going on, the Dutchman sailed up to me (metaphorically) and said could he take me round. So off we set in grand style, for Dutchmen are marvellous skaters. Soon it was time to go home, and so I found Joy and we put our things on. Just as we got to the door, however, the sirens went, and though a commissionaire put us on the road, he didn’t tell us that the trams all stopped, and so back we went again. The first person we saw when we got there was our Dutchman. He was very sweet, and took us for a drink; lots of other Dutch officers appeared, and said they would get us a taxi home, as they live in Mayfield too. This, however, was impossible, so we went back to the rink. Everyone had disappeared, so we had the place to our-selves. We said that as soon as we put on our skates again the All Clear would go, and so we didn’t bother. But after about an hour we decided to do so, and sure enough, off the All Clear went. But the Dutchman and I went on and had a marvellous time. We were the only people on the ice, on this enormous rink, and it was grand. He could do all sorts of tricks, but I could only just go round, and backwards, but I felt terribly courageous and did all sorts of things. Eventually the taxi arrived and off we went home. It was frightfully funny when we got to Mayfield, because we went to the back door, it being nearly 12, and we had not got a late pass to 11. We tiptoed in, bursting with laughter, and hurriedly bid each other good night. When we got to the Wren side of the house, who should we see but Robinson, an elderly steward, who had had to come in a taxi from Oxford Street, 7/6d. This was terribly funny, and we all accused her of being drunk. All she could say was ‘it was only cheese’ and we nearly split our sides. Chapman was there too, for she has to be up till the last people come in. Poor Robinson, it was a great shame really. Mother’s ruin was what we put it down to. Luckily there were no warnings in the night.

  Yesterday I had great fun. Joy and I went into Dundee at lunch time as we usually do, for it makes a good change. In the afternoon Miss Smith was interviewing prospective Wrens, and I had to take them down to the Surgeon Lieutenant for medical examination, and stay there and chaperone them. There were three of them, and it took a whole afternoon. When eventually I finished work, I rushed out, posted some letters, and then met my Dutchman coming home on his bicycle. We walked up the drive and he asked me to go to the pictures with him on Thursday, when he said he would meet me at the front door in a taxi, as it wouldn’t be seeming to appear in the Officers’ quarters, somehow. When I got in I remembered it was Miss Smith’s party and had to write him a note telling him I couldn’t go. Then I went to help Joy with the blackout, for she’d hurt her leg playing hockey. There are lots and lots of awfully nice Dutch officers, and I saw my friend, who was playing the violin marvellously. The other officer who was at the skating rink and who came home with us was a Baron, though he didn’t look it!

  … In the evening I promised to go shopping for Chapman and Joy, so out I went into the pitch black. Unfortunately I took the wrong turning, and went miles down the opposite way of the road. Eventually I found the shop and made great pals with the little man in it. I’ve ordered myself a Telegraph – we haven’t a wireless, and there’s never one in the shops here.

  … I’m sorry I haven’t had time to write so much lately, but really life is one long rush. I get up at twenty to eight, have breakfast at eight, and finish about twenty past. Then I have to bolt upstairs and make my bed, brush my clothes, and then dash off to work. The Orphanage is quite near, but I have to go down a very long drive, over the lawns down a short cut to get to it, and be at work at nine. If I’m lucky I can then rush off a note on the typewriter, but have to work till 12, when I dash off for lunch. If it’s a nice day, I try and get out, either for a walk, or into Dundee to look around the shops. They really are very good, but I can’t manage to get my stockings at all – apparently the chances of getting into mufti here are very good. So I shall need all the light stockings I can get hold of. Then back to work at 1:30 till five or six, it depends on the work, after which we have supper at 6:30. Then I either go to bed, iron, write letters, or read a little, but generally straight to bed, for after all this I’m quite worn out! Sometimes we go to the pictures, and skating of course, which I love, and am getting very keen. I think I’ll have some lessons to get my style better and then learn to dance. I’ll try and get my Dutch officer to learn to dance too, for he’s very good and should pick it up easily, and then we could go together, which would be fun. He is very tall, fair, nice blue eyes, and pleasant looking, though not terribly handsome; such nice manners too. No don’t worry, he’s not cutting out Paul, though I haven’t heard from the latter for ages, and am rather worried. I knew where his ship was when I came here, but haven’t been able to ascertain anything since I arrived. I should be furious if he arrived at Rosyth all of a sudden and found I was not there. They are goophs at St. Leonard’s, they’d probably say they had never heard of me. I’d hate Paul to be set loose amongst those voracious Wrens – they’d do anything!

  I do wish I knew whether I am going to stay here or not; I really want to now, because when I think of Dunfermline and all those horrible girls, and the quarters, I’d much rather be here; besides, there is much more doing here, and more chance of promotion, I think. I have to do all kinds of things, it isn’t just a secretarial job; you never know what is going to appear next, which is exactly what I like. The only things is that I’m afraid the secretarial work is rather limited, and they may not need a secretary, though they could always find other work for me to do as well, I’m sure.

  Tomorrow I am going to play hockey – Miss Smith has promised me. They aren’t very good here, so perhaps with my long ago experience, I may be able to do something for a change. I see they are short of left wings, which is my usual place, and the most difficult side, so I ought to be lucky. We are provided with sticks.

  About my evening frock, once more! Please, I like it, and everyone young who has seen it has loved it too, and said it suited me very well, and wasn’t a bit old. I don’t want it altered really – black suits me anyway. But
I don’t suppose there will be many dances here …

  I didn’t realise I’d written so much – so I think I’d better not waste a whole sheet. Please give my love to all those who send love to me …

  … Apparently Rosemary has been having a super time in London with Tim and half the Air Force. I’m glad – it’s good for her to get out and enjoy herself once in a while! [this, I think, is heavily sarcastic]

  Must fly now,

  Lots of Love,

  Sheila

  Mayfield Hostel

  Arbroath Road

  Dundee

  1.11.40

  My dear Mummy