My mother, Sheila Mills, joined the Wrens just two weeks after her 18th birthday. She had only just graduated from St James’s Secretarial College, and was working at Currey & Co, a law firm. By September 1940 the Blitzkrieg was in full swing; although the Battle of Britain had been won, London was suffering from air raids, France had capitulated, merchant ships were being torpedoed, Scapa Flow had been bombed, Italy had invaded North Africa, and the Axis – consisting of the Germans, the Italians and the Japanese – had been formed. Rationing had been in force since January. The future did not look bright.
To Sheila, as to many young people, it must have seemed logical to join up before being called up. In her case, as a well-educated girl with excellent typing and shorthand skills, she must have hoped for an early commission, something her letters reveal more or less from day one. Inheriting her father’s wanderlust and, with her childhood sweetheart, Paul, already a naval officer, joining the Wrens must have been a natural choice.
Nevertheless on arrival in Scotland on 1 October, the enormity of what she has done begins to dawn on her. Her first letters from Dunfermline are a childlike mix of excitement, impatience and apprehension, and reflect her middle-class upbringing and values inherited from her snobbish mother:
W.R.N.S Quarters
St Leonards Hill
Dunfermline
Fife
2.10.40
My dear Mummy and Daddy
This is my second day here and all goes well. So far! I went into the town last night and bought an enormous torch, then got lost and had to ask twice before getting home. The 3 other girls seem most kind and helpful. They all LOVE the Wrens, say they have a super time, and wouldn’t be out for the world. They seem to fraternise freely with all and tho’ not a fast type really, pick up all kinds of people!
Yes Mama, we have to wear knickers ‘closed in at the knees’ for the morals of the Navy must be kept up! Also we have to have ‘hussifs’ to keep sewing in. Could you please send me the sleeve I knitted and which I left behind – and also my pale nail polishes (thick and clear) as we can’t wear coloured polish. Hope I can use the Barbara Gould! I slept very well but was woken by furious snores from next door neighbour, which seemed strange after sleeping through all the guns of London. We had to get up about 7, had breakfast at 7.45 and then made our beds. At present I’m sitting in the rest room which is a huge, high windowed room, with wireless going. We’re on a hill and the trees look marvellous – everything is very bright and light. I’m expecting to be called at any moment to be told where I’m going. I rather wish I wasn’t a writer because you have to work from 9–6 every day, with one free day a week. As a telephonist, coder or a telegrapher you work half every day from 9–1 or 1–6, which seems much better.
Two rather nice girls have just spoken to me and they Signal. They work at C. in C. as I may do. They tell me they are going to be moved to some place or other where they will have to work underground. But then they have to work on during raids. Everyone seems terribly young. When they hear I type and do shorthand they think I’m most accomplished, which makes me laugh, and I feel quite a grandmother – at 20!
On top of this she is not impressed with her fellow Wrens:
… I’m told that most of the Wrens are nice but some are pretty queer. They all appear to be honest I’m told … They are very young, or about 25 or 40 and missed their chances! I’m afraid I must be rather blasé or a terrible snob because I don’t feel inclined to run around with any Tom Dick and Harry like these girls do. Any soldier or sailor does for them. But we shall see.
Please don’t think I’m wet blanketing it altogether; doubtless when I’ve sorted my friends and got my job sorted all will be well. People have been most kind, really, but they are terribly mixed. They keep coming and going, I believe, as this is a training and drafting depot.
Tons of love
Sheila
She is most amused to meet up with Miss Kidd, the secretary from St James’s who ‘remembered both me and R [sister Rosemary], that we had got scholarships and told the office, which may be useful. She also remembered we lived in Norfolk!’
Her work gets off to a rocky start, working in the Wren office part time and doing coding the rest. We should remember that this is only day 4, so she is showing an unreasonable amount of frustration and disappointment, probably exacerbated by anxiety.
This is compounded by an unpleasant incident soon after she arrives:
W.R.N.S. Quarters
St. Leonards Hill,
Dunfermeline
5.10.40
My dear Mummy,
I was reassured to get your letter and the papers. I had a simply horrid day and was feeling most depressed and they cheered me up no end. Yesterday I went to Mrs Henselgrew’s office and worked there a bit (she’s secretary to the Wren Superintendent) then I was transferred to coding which is rather fun but might be boring later on – not sure. Well I did that all this morning and then went to the Signals office (S.D.O) to help this afternoon. It was awful. All I did from 2:30–7 was file papers in pigeon holes. I nearly died of sheer boredom and fatigue for I had to stand up the whole time and had no tea at all. Then I had to go back to coding at the last minute as they were short. I don’t know whether I’m going to code for good, but some of the Wrens here are awfully jealous, because they applied for coding and were told it was full and would they do telephone. This doesn’t make me very popular, as you can see. But I’ve met several people I do like. Two Irish girls, the O’Neils, from Newcastle (I believe they were receptionists at the Turks Head and another girl from Darlington. (Funny they should all come from Durham!) On the whole I hate the girls here – Mary Diamond, whom I liked at first, is most queer now, hardly speaks to me at all. Nancy is quite nice tho’. But a most unfortunate thing happened last night which I’ll tell you about.
We had a dance for members at the dockyard and Cochrane I. One horrible spotty man I was dancing with said he’d got some gin and lime and would I like some. I completely forgot Wrens and teetotal dances and said yes. Silly of me really, but I didn’t think. We were in a small room downstairs and unfortunately a girl I dislike saw us there. The sum of the matter was that Mrs Crawley found a whiskey later in that room, made enquiries, heard I had been there and sent for me. She was very nice, but I felt such a fool, especially as he wasn’t at all a nice man and on the face of it, it must have looked rather bad. I told her I had had gin and lime and she asked if I knew the difference between that and whiskey. Then she explained (!) why they mustn’t have drink at parties and what might happen if men got drunk and made me feel a 2 year old. She was certainly nice and told me she knew that I wouldn’t get up to tricks, and was surprised to hear such tales of me (!) but that she was afraid I might earn myself a bad reputation. Of course, I apologised and said how silly I was – inwardly feeling furious, both with myself and that stinking girl. I bet a ghastly tale gets round to all the people I don’t like, and they can be horrid I can tell you. However I may not remain here, but may be drafted.
I’m wondering if I should apply to be drafted as coder back to Newcastle. I think I’d like it better than this, or try for Glasgow. You see, I’m in such a muddle – no one knows what I’m meant to be doing and I can’t see there’s any chance of promotion (let alone a commission) for ages. Why lots of people who have been here in a year are still Wrens. I don’t want to be pessimistic, or anything in these early stages, but I must say I’m terribly disappointed with it all. Any girl can do any of these jobs I’m doing, coding too, and I didn’t like working on the Wren side at all. I much prefer messages about ships etc. I don’t like being one of the hundreds doing work that hundreds could do, and it’s horrid being ignored by people, whom, in ordinary life, one would fraternise with. No, I cannot mix with Mrs Kidd, or any of the officers. Quite taboo. And the men absolutely look through you. You might be dust. After a fortnight’s probation, you are invited to enroll, provided they like you and you them. Well, if my work isn’t settled, or I haven’t found my particular type of work, and I still dislike all these people so, I shall seriously consider not signing on. It’s an absolute waste of one’s abilities, really. I feel I could be more useful elsewhere – and anyway, it’s the dullest type of office work. Tho’ I find messages about ships, and sending out real coded messages to them rather fun. It’s all very secret tho’ and one must be careful not to say anything.
I’m awfully sorry I find it all this way. I simply hate people who always grumble, but I think I really have cause to – for I’ve been brought up here under false pretences. Whether this coding will lead to anything remains to be seen. I worked from 9 until 7 today, I am terribly weary. I came home to go to bed, and am now told I’ve got tomorrow off. Thank heavens. Therefore I shall probably go to Church with Ines in the morning (there’s a military service at the abbey) and ring up these people to see if I can go and see them later on. I’ve not done anything about Rosemary’s Clive, but I had better do something quickly, before I develop an acute inferiority complex. I should probably be calling him ‘sir’! Mrs Crawley married a Crawley from Brancepeth. Surtees doesn’t come into it.
I’m keeping a diary which ought to be rather fun, only I mustn’t let it fall into enemy hands! Oh dear me no – I must keep it as safely as the codes! (Can’t write any more tonight – eyes much too tired!)
Ines and Hayne came in last night very hilarious and we had a tremendous laugh. They had been on the spree and had had a very gay time. It really cheered me up no end and now I’ve got the day off which is a good thing. And it’s a lovely day too. Mrs Crawley has just asked us all if we’d like to go to church and so we are most of us going. I’m told that that horrid girl who made all the row is most hated here, and has been shifted around a lot because she is a bad character. There’s a girl in this room called Kinloch who knows Durham very well and all the people we know. She is rather a queer girl - and I’m rather surprised.
I’ve been sewing on my name tapes. We are allowed to send 8 articles to the laundry every Sunday. I haven’t sent anything off this week. We can do most of our personal washing here, but I don’t like to put it out in the drying room.
I’m writing this in the ironing room for peace and quiet. There’s a terrific gale brewing, but it’s a lovely sunny day.
You never told me if you knew anyone in the D.L.I [Durham Light Infantry] up here. I’m told it’s the 14th. Do find out because it would be terribly nice to know someone here. Please, also, rack your brains and try and think of anyone you know in Edinburgh or near here. We have to pay 2/5d to get there which seems a lot to me, but as soon as we get into uniform and present a pay book we get a reduction.
What do you think about this whole thing? I think it seems most unsatisfactory. Do you think it would be a good idea to ask for a transfer to down to Newcastle? It would be nice to be near home and come home more often. It is 3 months before we get 7 days leave with free pass. I don’t know how weekends run, but people always seem to be getting home (those who live here) and I feel most envious. Or do you think I ought to stick it out here? I expect I shall make some friends, in time … Please don’t think I’m being frightfully down on the place. I really loathe grumblers, but what worries me is loathing it so and having to sign up for duration. I think I should tire if it stays on at this rate and I have no chance of getting out. You can buy yourself out of the W.A.A.F.s so I’m told, but not the Wrens! Senior Service and all that. That obnoxious girl has come in and asked me if I got into a row. I told her quietly and firmly that it was an unfortunate mistake. So hope she knows she’s squashed.
We’ve just been to church and then walked to get coffee, but couldn’t. Rather a jolly girl came with us. I was most annoyed. Had to clean silver this morning. Oh, I rang up the people in Dunfermline and I’m going to see them this afternoon. She sounded rather Scotch. I hope she’s nice. I get very tired of Scotch voices around, and long for even a few Cockneys. There’s a YMCA concert tonight I may go to. Now do write soon and let me know all the news – try and find out some people around here – I’m sorry if this has been rather a horrid letter – I just feel I run out of steam sometimes and doubtless shall settle down again soon.
It’s very pretty round here – must do some exploring.
Lots of love to you both –
Sheila
She does make one friend, a girl from Doncaster, Ines Gillespie:
… blonde and very kind, looks like Aunty Maud. I’m told she’s 40 tho’ looks 20 … and like me, doesn’t seem to cotton on with the other girls much … She has made lots of friends up here (mostly officers) and we are going to have some fun – I hope – but all the other girls are terribly jealous of her and therefore not awfully pleasant … I like Ines very much, but she’s what you might call ‘man mad’ which is rather sickening. However, she seems to meet with great success even among the Scotties[?].
Sheila is desperate for company from a similar social background, and pesters her mother for contacts, especially among the Durham Light Infantry who are stationed in Dunfermline. But, for whatever reason, Grace fails to produce results until Sheila moves to Dundee at the end of October when she effects an introduction to a friend of the owner of respectable Durham coffee shop, Greenwells. This turns out to be Elizabeth Clayhill, who lives with her wealthy uncle at Invergowrie house ‘almost a castle, with turrets … and a bed Bonnie Prince Charlie slept in’. Elizabeth in turn introduces Sheila to some of the local people, and together they go out to supper and to the cinema.
After Ines is posted to Methil (where Sheila goes herself in 1941), she makes friends with 18-year-old Maureen Pritty:
a very attractive dark girl … She’s definitely a cut above most Wrens, and feels she ought to have a commission too, but is only 18 … Tall, like me, she knows a girl whose brother is on the same ship as Paul and she tells me she puts into Rosyth very frequently, which, if true should be grand.
By strange coincidence Maureen is the sister of John Pritty, destined to be Sheila’s great love in Egypt.
This dissatisfaction and uncertainty with life in the Wrens is set to continue throughout her career – always hankering after promotion and a desire to be anywhere but where she is – with the exception of Cairo as we shall see. For the first couple of weeks in Dunfermline she agonises over what to do, asking her mother over and over what she thinks: should she transfer to Newcastle or elsewhere in Scotland or chuck it all in? She is loath to return to Durham and for everyone say ‘I told you so’.
Then ‘just as prospects were brightening’, and as she is beginning to resign herself to staying, she is sent to Dundee ‘rather to my grief’ to help them with secretarial work.
❖❖❖
Life in the Wrens is a bit of a culture shock for pretty Sheila Mills. First of all the ‘diet is unbalanced … a lot of bread and potatoes … lunch, soup, stewed steak, beans and potatoes, rice, apples and prunes and weak coffee’ and she asks for apples to be sent from home, where there is a glut, although she seems to enjoy a slap-up tea given half a chance (I counted no fewer than twenty-three mentions of ‘having tea’ in her first three months in Scotland). Scotland is ‘the land of cakes. The shops are full of the most marvellous buns, scones etc – much more than iced, or cream cakes. I always buy something for tea,’ although the ‘cake shops aren’t so good in Dundee as in Dunfermline, mediocre’ even, with the exception of ‘such nice cakes and scones’ and ‘marvellous hot pancakes with maple syrup’, good for ‘cold feet’. No wonder she put on weight!
Like all young girls she wants to look good and the delay in getting kitted out in uniform means she can wear mufti:
Today I’ve been wearing my red jumper, lipstick and nail varnish to match. Miss Overy [her boss] at once asked me when my uniform was coming. She doesn’t like to have her Wrens looking at all glamorous … When I am in uniform life will be hell, tho! No lipstick or nail polish, hair cut short; even tho’ it’s very tidy now, and skirt to my ankles, and you’re not even allowed to wear your hat at an angle. Oh, I’m thoroughly fed up with them all. Surely, if you’re willing to serve your country they should let you look at attractive as possible?
She is highly amused by the rumour going round at Dundee that she is an ex-chorus girl and puts it down to her red jumper and lipstick.
There is a constant to-ing and fro-ing between her and her mother requesting clothes be sent, in particular evening dresses for the dances, and an ongoing saga over her beaver lamb fur coat (which I still have):
13.10
As I shall be in uniform soon, I don’t suppose I shall want any more clothes. Though I’m getting rather tired of these, I’d better have my pink frock sometime tho’ because if you go away for the night, or anything, you can change if you like.
17.10
I wonder if my pink frock is ready yet. Please let me know how much it is, and also my watch. You see, if Roddy [friend from home] comes up here, we might have parties, and I should be able to change to go to them. Do you think I’d better have an evening dress sent up? If so, which? Do you think I could get into my black? I do love it so, and it is still very smart. My blue is very pretty, but rather summery. I might need my fur coat then – I really think it ought to be out of London, but can’t get R. to say anything about it.
18.10
Yes, I believe I’d better have an evening dress and coat, would you have my fur coat or evening coat if you were I? Some of the girls are going for a dance (dressed) tonight. I’d love to go dancing again.
29.10
About my evening frock – Joy and I have been discussing it and we came to the conclusion evening dresses don’t date very much. No, I wouldn’t like mauve feathers, they wouldn’t go with the silver very well. I would like some clip-on black velvet straps, not very wide, and some more white flowers, I think. Yes, I agree about lace frocks, but why bother about buying another? This will do if it’s let out a bit. Do you think the dressmaker can manage all right?
When the evening dress finally arrives the ‘swine’ of a dressmaker has removed the gardenia flowers, much to Sheila’s annoyance: ‘Yes, I’m rather disappointed about the frock – the flowers on the skirt were so sweet – can you get them back for me, please? I’ve tried it on and it doesn’t look too bad, but not so nice as before’; she now knows what became of the missing lamé on another frock!
In wartime, because of clothes rationing there was a lot of mending and making do, so this obsession with repairing and altering clothes and sending them around the country is quite understandable. The pay in the Wrens was 18s a fortnight, ‘which isn’t bad really’, rising to 23s or 24s as a Leading Wren, the rank below 3rd Officer. If you think that the cheapest pair of stockings – not silk – were 3/4d per pair, it must have been quite hard to make ends meet. The beaver lamb coat would have been an extremely expensive garment and it is little wonder that so much anxiety is attached to its whereabouts. Apart from anything else, Sheila must have worried about it going up in smoke in the London bombing:
30.10
About my fur coat – I’m not sure what to do. I wondered if you would have liked to borrow it, but now I hear I may not have my uniform for ages – they are very short here because the store has been bombed in Deptford. So I may need lots more clothes, as these are getting worn out, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear what is happening to me. I left quite a lot at St. Leonard’s [Dunfermline], including my costume skirt, so it’s lucky I’ve got these two navy ones. I exist on only two jumpers, a navy one and a pink one, which is miraculous for me. Stockings are indeed a problem, because all mine have gone at once, and I’ve only got two pairs left and can’t get any more. So I’m having some of them mended … I think I may need my pink frock, if it is finished. I can always pack things up in a box and send them to myself, if I get switched suddenly. I wonder if my nice brown American shoes would be useful. The only thing is I haven’t got anything else brown. I don’t know what to say. No, I think my new navy ones (which have been mended very well) will be enough.
29.11
I’ve asked Rosemary to have my fur coat sent here. It’s very cold and I need it to go out in, if and when I’m asked again! How shall I manage at Xmas I can’t imagine!
2.12
Rosemary had my fur coat sent up here last week, and it really is a great boon; it’s so useful to have to slip on when dashing out in the evenings, and really it’s got quite cold lately
10.12
I can’t believe it’s Xmas time – I’m still running about in my little check jacket and shirt, though it has been very nasty, and I’ve been glad of my fur coat. No sign of uniform yet, thank heavens! I shall look a frump.
What with all this stodgy food, Sheila seems to be putting on weight (later letters reveal she was a buxom 11 stone!) and takes great offence to her uniform fitting sessions:
Mayfield
7/11
We were having kitting, of course, and had to tear in and out of clothes at the rate of about 10 a minute. Really, everyone did look funny. Joy and I nearly passed out with laughter. Everything was so big. I was given a WX suit to begin with, which annoyed me intensely.
The jacket’s not bad, but I could nearly get into the skirt twice. Then everyone said ‘that’s just the size for you’ and I nearly passed out. I was given 7 shoes, broad, when I have a narrow foot and a 15 shirt, but I jibbed at these, and also my hat – 7 1/4! I will not have these – but shall wait until the next issue. I did get some very thick Lisle stockings, 10 1/2, and some gloves. Which I’m hanging on to – but apart from the suit, nothing else – and, whilst all this chopping and changing was going on, my arm was hurting like hell [she had just had her inoculations]. It was all terribly funny – I haven’t laughed so much for years. Working at an orphanage1 and then dressed in navy from head to foot (I had a navy jumper on) and everything too big – I really looked like an orphan. The hats are terrible – so cheap looking …
I took my Wrens costume to be altered to Hector Powe – and now learn is will cost over £1! Isn’t that dreadful? I’m sure I could have worn a smaller size and shall investigate. And, to crown all the A/C officer isn’t paying more than 10/- for any alternations, but Miss Overy has let mine go through, luckily.
Stockings were in short supply during the war, and silks were particularly prized:
28.10
There’s a little puppy here belonging to a Dutch officer. He is very fond of tearing stockings and laddered 2 very fine pairs of Joy’s. She was very annoyed and told the officer to keep the dog under control. He said he’d give her 2 more pairs, which he did, lovely Aristoc ones – black – and wanted her to go out and celebrate, but she pretended not to hear. Very amusing.
1.11
I’m terribly worried about stockings because you can’t buy any here and mine are all dying fast.
7.11
About those stockings. I don’t think I’d be allowed to wear them in black. The girls here are wearing fine cut silk ones which look very nice – if they have them in my size. I do like the ribbed ones though.
10.11
I bought some silk stockings yesterday. Not black, so don’t think I shall need any more ordinary ones – just black as and when I can get hold of them. We have very nice fine cut SMK ones in shops here at 3/3d but only in 10’s, and as they don’t give like silk, I don’t think they’d be much good for me. I may try a pair to see.
14.11
I haven’t done anything about the stockings but have bought another pair of black silk. It’s quite easy to get anything you want here in 10’s. They have excellent stocks – so if you want any Mummy, let me know, but I don’t think you can get anything under 5/11 now. I shall get some ribbed Lisle – they’d be nice to wear with my suit.
17.11
I’ve been buying up black stockings. I’ve got six pairs now, hope they last me out!
2.12
I’m simply furious; one of those nice pairs of stockings Rosemary gave me has disappeared. I thought I’d tracked it down, in fact I’m sure I have, but there’s no evidence beyond the fact that I know that it’s mine. The person in question was very clever about it and beyond saying I know it’s mine and you’re telling a lie, I can’t very well get my stockings back. It’s funny isn’t it, that people like that always have eyes very close together? The infuriating part is that they were only 10 1/2 pair I had, all my others being 10’s as no one seems to stock the big ones up here. I did her [Rosemary] a very good turn, I consider; I got Draffens to reserve her four pairs of Aristoc 258 stockings until she sent them a cheque. They are very difficult to get just now. I just can’t get anything in 10 1/2 in black so expect I shall have to wear Lisle in the end. Artificial silk is all right, but unless they make them large enough I can’t wear them.
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
Thank you for your note. This will only be a short one too as I have to be back at work shortly.
Yesterday Miss Smith gave a farewell party to all the Wrens at Mayfield. It really was great fun and we all enjoyed it immensely. There were about 80/90 people there. We danced, played games, and ate and ate, and really made merry. I met a girl I used to know at Rosyth who’s up at the Unicorn as C.P.O. [Chief Petty Officer]. She’s rather nice, and we are going to the flicks next week. The party lasted till about 10.30 and then we had to clean up. There were apple cores all over the place – we’d had community singing, which was most rowdy, and when we danced you couldn’t possibly hear the gramophone. Miss Smith made a farewell speech – very nicely and we all gave her a present, a rather lovely pig skin jewel case, which she seemed to like. In her confusion she forgot to introduce Miss Overy, but most people know her so it’s all right.
I really think I’m being drafted here which I shall like. Apparently the Chief Officer fixed up about me on Sunday when she came over. Miss Overy is rather nice, a little abrupt but I expect that’s because she’s shy. I shan’t be getting any uniform for ages I expect so may need some more clothes. I’d like my little check jacket (blue) to wear with an odd shirt and my tartan skirt if it can be shortened. It seems dreadful having all these clothes but uniform is so short. (scarce!) I’m terribly worried about stockings because you can’t buy any here and mine are all dying fast.
Tonight I’m going out to the flicks with my Dutch officer. He wrote me a dear little note which he gave to the Baron to give to Joy to give to me. Joy had been taken off the Baron’s room and met him running round the corridors flicking the note about terribly worried in case he should miss her. I’m being met at the main door in a taxi.
We had squad drill yesterday: several Dutchmen were playing golf which made things perilous. Then it poured with rain and we all got soaked. This afternoon I’m going to play in a hockey practice. There’s a match tomorrow, and if I play well, I may play.
Joy has been given this weekend off and so we are planning to go across the ferry to Newport on Sunday afternoon. They say it’s a lovely place and very good for walking. We think we’ll go to Tay Port, get a motor boat ferry back to Broughty Ferry and then home. It should be rather fun I think.
I’ve been working very hard lately ...
I really shall have to fly now. Otherwise I’ll be late for work. Which would be bad. Please write soon.
Lots and lots of love to you and Daddy
Sheila
Air raids seem to have been a common occurrence and someone was killed nearby as a result of a huge bomb:
In the middle of the night – 3.30 to be exact, we had an air raid warning. We went down to the cellar and discovered a bed put there for Red Cross purposes. This we bagged and fitted together like spoons, were fairly comfortable. I might have gone to sleep, only all the other Wrens, hearty as they are, would sing very loudly, so you can imagine how ghastly it was! We were there for two hours.
This bed becomes a habit, and they end up managing to sleep ‘end to end’. Joy’s Dutchman, Welter, gives them chocolates to munch in the darkness. Nevertheless, she is afraid: ‘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.’ One such air raid almost spoiled Sheila’s date with her Dutch officer:
Mayfield Hostel,
Arbroath Road,
Dundee
3.11.40
My dear Mummy –
… did I tell you about going out with the Dutchman with an unpronounceable name? Just as I was getting ready, the sirens went so downstairs I tripped with all the rest. 3/4 hr later a head peered round the door and I realised the Dutchman had been waiting all the while, plus taxi, expecting me still to appear. So I dashed out, with guns nattering and bombs dropping, and we went to the pictures. When I got back Chapman had been rather worried because no one had any idea of where I was. It never occurred to me that they were all sitting in the cellar thinking my last hour had come! He’s going off on patrol tomorrow, hope everything is all right.
Yesterday I was to have played in a hockey match. In fact we drove off in fine style in a Naval lorry, but it came on to pour with rain. The other side, however, insisted on playing, and we got soaked to the skin – literally. We only played half-time, but I had to take my skirt and jumper off and come home in undies and a coat I was so wet. My clothes aren’t properly dry yet! We felt so miserable that Joy and Chapman and I went into town and had an enormous high tea!
This morning Joy and I were both free so we took a bus to Broughty Ferry and walked on the beach. We went in some forbidden part and had soldiers chasing us off! In the afternoon we collected another Wren, Eleanor Sherwen, whose father is a vicar in Cumberland and knows the Harris’s [where Sheila’s mother was governess], and went across the ferry to Newport. It’s a sweet little place, and the country is very pretty. Joy’s leg is still very painful, so she couldn’t walk far and I had a horrid cold, so we didn’t stay long, but came back to Dundee and had tea. When we got back to Mayfield we saw a new moon, which we bowed to; I went barging into the middle of a service the Wrens were having – the old parson looked so astonished. It’s been a lovely day – but cold. I even wore my long-legged pants, and liked them!
Nothing much happened here of late except that it has got very cold and all my warm clothes are at Dunfermline. I shall send for them tomorrow. I had a letter from Lena, who says she will send me some pears which would be lovely. The food here is excellent – lots of variety and very well cooked.
Joy and I have made up our minds not to be dull, so we are going to the Palais, skating and cinemas as much as we can. We want to try and meet some nice people and have lots of fun. Otherwise things might get us down. We are having lots more English officers here, but they all seem to be terribly snobbish about Wrens. Which is more than the Dutch are: they are very sweet really and I feel very sorry for them.
Miss Smith goes tomorrow and Miss Overy and I take charge. She doesn’t know a lot, and nor do I, but if I try hard I may be able to make a good impression. I’m just longing for gold buttons! and proportionate increase in pay!!
I’ve nearly finished my navy cardigan – I never seem to get much time these days. Any evening we don’t do anything we go straight to bed.
No more now – for I must now do some knitting.
Tons of love
Sheila
Welter, who is Joy’s ‘admirer’, is:
[the] queerest of men – he insisted on buying her a complete set of Elizabeth Arden face things, and when she protested said ‘I will do what I like, don’t try to change me’. He knows she’s married, but still insists on showering gifts upon her. He even wanted to buy her a new pair of shoes because he didn’t like the ones she wears. But Joy stuck at that. We’ve certainly had a good laugh out of poor Welter – he writes the most amusing letters, but doesn’t mean them to be funny of course. We feel so sorry for these Dutchmen – it must be dreadful to be away from home and friends and not even knowing where they are, or whether they are safe.
The only remaining photo of Sheila’s first serious boyfriend, Dutchman Jaap Drijfhout van Hooff
Sheila’s beau is a submarine officer, ‘Jacob (not Jewish) but is shortened to Jaap (Yarp)’ Drijfhout, who is musical and dances – and skates – ‘extremely well’. He is often on patrol, and Sheila worries about his safe return as German U-boats are patrolling the North Sea. For Christmas 1940 he gave her ‘a lovely original etching of 3 Scotties [dogs] and I have it on my dressing table’. I still have this etching today.
So life settles into a routine of girliness, work, hockey, little excursions, the ‘flicks’, tea and going out with the Dutchmen:
Dundee
17.10
… Up at the crack of dawn again today for work at 7. This afternoon as I told you, we went to play hockey against the crew of a ship in harbour. And we had great fun. I really wasn’t too bad as I hadn’t played for years. Then we went down to the dockyard and boarded a drifter which took us to the ship for tea. This was terrific fun, but sad to say I only had French knickers on, so had to be terribly careful! When walking up and down ladders I sandwiched myself between two knowing Wrens, so hope all was ok. We had tea with the team and a marvellous one it was too. There was a friendly coxswain who was most amusing. And we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. I’ve never seen such a spread since I came up here. Well, we demolished a good part of it, and then were shown round the ship – I can’t tell you what it was for obvious reasons, but it was very remarkable. We went into the galley, the crew’s quarters, captain’s quarters, quarterdeck, bridge, boiler rooms and everywhere and had a very jolly time. The men were so nice and friendly, and are going to ask us over again if possible, to dance and play pingpong. We then sailed back on the drifter. The coxswain was terribly funny. He insisted on calling ‘all Wrens muster on deck’ all over the ship or blowing a whistle because he said he’d never shouted for Wrens before.
H.M.S. Ambrose
133 Ferry Road
Caroline Port
Dundee
25.10
Joy and I spend most of our spare time in our room, which is very large. We keep a supply of biscuits which are kept crisp by putting them on the radiator. Grand idea! A girl has just come in and brought me my tea, it’s only twenty to three, but I dare say I’ll like it – it’s rather fun really, sitting here, and making out passes and shoe cleaning vouchers, and having people coming to ask.
… I tried on a Wren hat this morning and looked pretty terrible. McRobbie wears a jack tar’s hat – the little round affair – and it looks so nice. I tried hers on and it looked awfully nice. I do wish all Wrens were allowed to wear them – but I expect they’re too skittish.
Tonight I’m going to see ‘Gone with the Wind’ which is on up here. I’ve got to have a special pass to go, because it doesn’t end till past 11 and we’re supposed to be in at 10! Terrible isn’t it? And only 2 late passes a week. I’d rather like to live in approved lodgings because you can be in when you please, and even get out of uniform when off duty. That would be much nicer.
Mayfield
7.11.40
Joy and I are going to give ourselves egg packs tonight. Joy went down to the kitchen to get the eggs, and met Welter, who at once twigged, so he asked for the eggs to be put on his mess bill, and so we’ve got two lovely brown ones for the pack. Rather a waste these days, really we get plenty of eggs really, boiled and scrambled for breakfast, but never butter, always margarine. Will have to go into the bathroom for the packs – the new girl would just pass out if she saw us!
H.M.S Ambrose
18.12.40
We have started having dancing lessons at Mayfield: some girl has kindly offered to teach the Wrens and we had our first lesson last night, and I relearnt the waltz and the foxtrot! Also some Scottish country dancing which was rather fun. So when I went out with Jaap and we went to the Palais, I was well practised. It was rather amusing; he thought I’d be most annoyed at the suggestion, but I’d always had a hankering to see what the Palais was like, and was pleased to go. He dances very well indeed. Extremely well.
Also 18.12
Have been terribly busy lately, hence scarcity of mail. Went out with Jaap last night. Last time for 2 weeks I’m afraid. He’s nice. We wined and dined and went to the Palais! Good band and floor.
Spent all Saturday with Elizabeth [Clayhill] and Uncle Charles who were so nice. I’m meeting E. tonight. She’s going to try and find a nice family to take me in as p.g. when I have to leave Mayfield. There are nearly 100 N.O.s [Naval Officers] here at the moment. Oh boy!!
Mayfield Hostel
Arbroath Road
Dundee
20.12
On Wednesday I went to see ‘It’s a Date’ with Deanna Durbin and Elizabeth came too. She’s been very kind and written off to the Bishop’s wife about me and also to some people called Pilcher who do a great deal of entertaining in Dundee, especially the Dutch officers, and asked them to look me up whilst she’s away. Also a Lady Wedderburn Ogilvy who lives at Alyth is going to ask me out for a whole day later on. People are most kind if they all remember me!
I’ve sent Elizabeth a big box of Morny bath powder – French Fern – and hope she likes it. She won’t be back until the middle of January. I’m trying to arrange for us to go to our dance together in a party. Jaap says he’d love to come if he’s not on patrol and so he might be able to find a friend to go with Elizabeth.
Life also improves on the work front, although she finds working for Miss Overy rather a trial:
Miss Overy and I sit opposite each other, firing questions and getting into terrible muddles, but things seems to work out all right in the end. We neither of us know a lot, but at present, I think I take the cake! McRobbie [their predecessor] came over the other day, very disgruntled because she’s been ordered to wear an ordinary hat, and not her little sailor’s cap. She asked me how we were getting on ‘oh, going from mess to mess, you know’. She was furious. ‘We thought we left everything in perfect order’ she said. If she only knew – we find out 3 or 4 mistakes of theirs everyday.
Miss Overy seems to be looking out for Sheila, asking when she will be 21: ‘I wonder if this means a commission in view?’ More importantly she gives Sheila her first taste of working for the navy proper, on board a battleship:
Great thrill: I’m to be the writer to go on board the ship that put in here requiring someone to do secretarial work … Miss Overy daren’t send me full time in case I was withdrawn by Rosyth on the grounds that I haven’t enough work to do … So I’m to go down in the afternoon from 2–5, as they need me. It will be tremendous fun working on board a real ship – especially one I’ve heard about. I wonder when I’ll start. I shall be furious if they suddenly find they can manage without a writer – it would be just my luck!
This experience is to inspire her for the rest of her naval career:
Mayfield
18.11.40
Dear Mummy –
I’ve had such a good day I must write and tell you about it – but one long rush as usual I’m afraid. I got to work this morning to find the ship wanted me this afternoon. Great thrill. So after lunch I dashed down to Unicorn to be told where to go. Unicorn is a very old ship, like the Victory, the other naval establishment here. It’s marvellous on board old beams and what not – I’d love to work there. Everyone was so nice to me – even the Sub-Lieutenant who gave me my pass and sub-Lieuts are often so hoity-toity. So I rushed off to the decks with my pass to go on board. One of the Dutch submarines was in – I hope it’s the one my Dutchman is on. However to return to the B.S. (the ship!). It had been struck by a sound mine and very badly damaged, so has been brought here for repairs. Everyone was expecting me and an office had been rigged up in the Wardroom. I had to run up and down companion ways so was glad I’d got on my passion-killers! An awfully nice Warrant Officer was in charge when I arrived – a dear little man, and so helpful – tho’ hopeless seated at the typewriter! Then there was an awfully nice rating, definitely public school etc. who was a great help. So between us we got some work done. Apparently a sentry had accidentally shot another one, and there’s been a hell of a row about it and its made much work for them all. Commander Anderson, the Captain, came in and was so nice. He apologised for the state of the ship, as it really is in rather a mess, but I didn’t mind. Apparently he was a very leading light at Dunkirk, but no notice was taken of him at all. I may have to do my work on Unicorn later on, as he think’s it’s too cold for me on board, but I hope not. The B.S. was in an amazing state – she’s only 9 months old, and everything was absolutely of the latest type. The mine had cracked the iron (or steel) castings and buckled them in places, so that it will have to be almost entirely reconstructed. Five men were hurt, 4 with broken ankles and one badly scalded as he was making a cup of tea. You’d like it on board mummy, for they use nothing but tinned milk and brown sugar … I love it. My nice little W/O was struck over the eye – next time I go he’s going to take me to see the engines, but really the whole ship’s in such a mess. I do wish Wrens were allowed on board on patrol – it would be marvellous and would cheer up both parties. I can’t get over how polite and nice everyone was – after six weeks in the Wrens I’ve got used to being treated as a rating. The whole atmosphere was so nice – the officers and men got on so well and there was no sort of ‘barrier’. Of course, it’s only a little ship, really – so I suppose it makes a difference. But she’s very important and did a lot of good work at Norway in April. I shall be dreadfully sorry when their writer comes back. Oh how I wish I could be a sailor and go aboard on patrol – it would be so much nicer than being ashore. I do think they ought to have Wrens aboard. Still, I’m really very lucky, for lots of Wrens have never even been inside a ship. The Unicorn people were very jealous. I’ve hardly told a soul here – it might create a bad feeling. I believe I’m going again on Wednesday, but don’t know yet. Miss Overy may not want to spare me.
…We are busy kitting at the moment – my second suit is going to be a size smaller! I insisted! I may not get all my kit by Christmas tho’ as the demand hasn’t been put through yet.
Please don’t tell people about this ship, and why it is here etc. It doesn’t matter saying I’m working on board, but please don’t tell anyone anything else as you never know! I don’t really think I’ve said anything I ought not to, but you can’t be too careful.
Lots of love
Sheila.
But it’s not all good news; just as Sheila was beginning to settle down, Miss Overy drops a bombshell and says that Joy is being transferred to Deptford as a telephonist, the reason being that:
… as a messenger she’s too much in the public eye and officers notice her and stare at her. Joy was furious, especially when Miss Overy said that she’d watched her and found her manners perfect and that she could find no fault at all with Joy. ‘But’ she said ‘you must be hidden. You can’t help being attractive – it’s not your fault so we’re transferring you as a telephonist to Devonport’. Have you ever heard of anything so horrid? We think that the Wrens Officers are jealous of anyone good looking being about the place and have kicked up a fuss. Joy’s so upset, especially as she’s tried so hard, and been through an awful lot – steward’s work is terribly wearing, especially if you haven’t been used to such things.
Luckily Sheila has Jaap and her new ‘posh’ friend, Elizabeth Clayhill.
At the same time, the downsides of communal living become apparent: things start to disappear; in addition to Sheila’s stockings, Joy lost some ‘camminicks and 2/6. Also, soap flakes disappear like magic. We are all very annoyed.’ This gave rise to a reprimand from Sheila’s mother.
It is hard to believe that her mother was complaining about Sheila never writing, as Sheila wrote every other day; it’s a shame that Sheila never kept her mother’s letters, despite the exhortation to ‘keep my letters you’ll get a complete picture of life in the Wrens. They’re much better than my diary, as I’m generally too tired to write much.’ They would have revealed much about their spiky relationship, which Sheila’s letters skate over unless, as on this occasion, she is pushed too far:
Naval Quarters,
133 Ferry Road,
Carolina Port,
Dundee
10.12.40
My dear Mummy,
I was pleased to get your letter last night, but really I think you are very hard on me. The last twice you’ve written it’s been nothing but complaints about me – how careless I am with my things and that I never write. I’m only able to write now because Miss Overy is away today. I start work at 9 in the morning, and have lunch at 12. Unless I get out during my lunch hour I never get any fresh air at all, so I can’t write then. I work from 1.20 till 5.30 or 6, and we have supper at 6.30, which finishes at about 6.45 if we’re lucky. Then I can write letters, but not every night – so you see my time’s very much taken up, tho’ I always manage to write at weekends don’t I? As for being careless with my clothes, I’m very careful indeed and try and mark everything. But I can’t vouch for other people’s dishonesty can I?
And to her father, rather more measured, as she knows he will sympathise with her for getting a ticking off:
I’ve just had Mummy’s letter of admonition – but it’s quite uncalled for, you know! Naturally I’m very careful about all my clothes and keep all precious things away in my suitcase, but where there’s a will, there’s a way, and anyone can break into a case. Walton, one of the girls in my room, was quite indignant at the insinuation that I was careless and threatened to write to Mummy telling her how careful I am! Nothing else has gone – so far!
There were other drawbacks to life in a dormitory, but luckily Sheila maintains a sense of humour on this one:
Mayfield
14.11.40
My dear Mummy and Daddy –
…Well today has been ‘a day!’ To begin with, 2 girls found visitors in their hair, and so we all had to be inspected by the Surg. Lieutenant. Joy and I were ok – apparently I’m not the type that has ‘nits’ or my hair isn’t, so the Dr. said. But 5 girls have to be disinfected – one, the ‘bearer’ is my next door neighbour at table, and a dirty looking girl, so I’m not surprised. She is the originator – does this make you tickle? I itch all over even tho’ I haven’t any!
Then I had to take a girl down to be medically examined – quite a stranger, not one of us, and she had them too, so it was a horrid tickley day. Miss Overy and I have been sitting scratching ever since. Still – it’s nice to know the bugs don’t like you isn’t it?
Lots of love
Sheila.
Even after a few months there are early signs that Sheila is headed for promotion. First of all, over Christmas, she has to ‘hold the fort’ at the Wren office when Miss Overy takes ten days’ leave, something she is justifiably nervous about. As it is Christmas there are several parties to organise and she is:
Frantically busy … I do hope nothing drastic happens in her absence. Today I’ve been coping with hospitality for Wrens and believe me it’s a very difficult task. Phone call after phone call keeps coming through, letter after letter and I’ve been nearly upside down! There’s a supper concert and dance on Tuesday – also on Thursday. We’ve been invited to a lunch on Boxing Day and we are having a party ourselves on Xmas Day, with a tree and presents. The WVS have given presents for every Wren here; isn’t it wonderful? Then we are having a concert on New Years Day and one dance on the 24th. I wish I didn’t have to cope so much – it wears me out, what with leave, tickets, ration cards etc. Dreadful!
As a result of her efficiency she is voted on as Secretary to the Wrens Club committee, which was formed just before Christmas. She says she won’t have time ‘what with typing out minutes and what not’, but somehow she is appointed. They are to organise a ‘swish’ dance in the New Year, and a concert, at which she is to sing with another girl - ‘Heaven help the Wrens! I only hope I don’t get stage fright and fade out.’ There is a bit of a to-do over the dance, as she wants the tickets to be 5s ‘to make it a bit more select’ – but it’s ‘no good’ and she loses out to 3s 6d. They also arrange talks from the naval commanders on station.
❖❖❖
Christmas 1940 was the first of many war Christmases spent with fellow Wrens, and it was a jolly affair. Sheila tells how she and the captain’s secretary opened one of the WVS’s gifts to see what was inside – ‘soap and sweets’ – and how ‘furious’ he was as they ‘smelt [sic] out his office’:
Mayfield
25.12.40
My dear Ma and Pa
Thank you very much for your wire and also for the parcel of things that arrived today. I hope you had a very good Xmas – as good as I have had. I rose at 7.30 and went to church, then came back for breakfast and then went to church again. After that, work not very much but just enough to keep me busy. Then the phone went asking Miss Mills to go to the Capt’s secretary’s office immediately. I dashed down in trepidation to be seized by Steve and heartily embraced under the mistletoe – there were 3 Sub-Lieuts. They’re all very amused. Pat and Marjory had done the same too and then another Sub-Lieut Simmons, who thought I was a chorus girl (!) dragged me there too – oh it was funny! Then I slid down the bannisters to celebrate and got stuck, we did laugh.
We’ve had a marvellous party today. Much too much to eat and I’m going out to my 2nd Xmas dinner tonight with Pat Whittons. Now must away there! Everyone got 2 presents off the tree, very good I thought.
Going out tomorrow, Friday and Saturday to various troop dances - HOPE to go to Ambrose dance on N.Y. Eve.
Tons of love
Sheila
Harry sent me 2 pairs of lovely silk stockings
After Christmas Sheila is allowed a weekend off: Elizabeth has arranged for her and another girl to go and stay with a Scottish Minister and his wife at Arbroath, where they have breakfast in bed – ‘a great luxury’.
On New Year’s Eve she is looking forward to going to HMS Ambrose (where she works, along with HMS Unicorn) big dance with a party of naval people; Jaap is coming back from leave, and there is rumour of an ‘important visit and I imagine it is the King and Queen, but of course no one will tell you anything. Must remember to give my shoes a polish and yank my hair up. What fun; hope they come round Ambrose, if it is them!’
Most of all she is looking forward to her leave, and the possibility of meeting up with Paul, even though she is seeing Jaap – ‘Don’t know about leave yet but may land myself in soup as Jaap may have leave in Jan and want to come and Paul may be here too! Would you mind a cosmopolitan household? But the navy’s very unreliable so you never know – just warning you tho!’
Paul who, despite intermittent correspondence as he is on a ship, seems to be a bit of a hero: ‘Apparently, his ship was one that stopped a non-British merchant vessel taking goods to Germany at the beginning of November, and Paul was the second of the two officers who went on board. I’m dying to hear all about it.’
She is still champing at the bit to get a commission, but at least she seems more settled, and manages to get an end-of-year dig in at her sister: ‘I had a letter from Rosemary today. I think she ought to join up, don’t you? It would be dreadful to be called up.’ Despite the ups and downs of the first three months in the Wrens, she has the satisfaction of being able to look down on her older sister from the moral high ground.
1 Wrens, as part of the Royal Navy, either worked on real ships, like HMS Unicorn, an old ship in Dundee dockyard, or in offices named after ships, like HMS Ambrose, which was in fact situated in an old orphanage.