1942 was a critical year for the Allies. Japan had joined the Axis and the US had responded to Pearl Harbour by declaring war on Germany, supporting the British and Russian armies against the relentless Nazi advances throughout Europe: they were besieging Leningrad and had advanced as far as Moscow. The Germans were putting in place their plans for the ‘final solution’ and the gas chambers had been in use in Auschwitz since September 1941 – indeed my Czech family were all to be exterminated there in that year.
In early 1942 ‘invincible’ Singapore surrendered to the Japanese and so began the building of the Burma railway, one of the cruellest POW events of the war; 90,000 Asian forced labourers and around 13,000 Allied prisoners were beaten and starved to death in its construction. I visited the war cemetery in Kanchanaburi in August 2014, and paid tribute to those brave souls.
In North Africa, Tobruk fell in February and the Afrika Korps began their advance towards Cairo and Alexandria, with the intention of taking Egypt and cutting off the British forces with a pincer movement, to join their victorious troops in Greece and Italy.
For Sheila, stuck in Scotland, the war is about to become interesting at last. Her parents’ objections to her going abroad have obviously cut no ice with the Navy. She was, after all, 21. Practical to the last, even if a bit scatty – she still remembers to sort out her fur coat and finances, not forgetting the superstitious exchange of coinage for the scissors (something I still do if I give knives to people). She had no idea then that she was to be leaving England for the best part of four years:
L. Links
29.1.41
Dear Mama,
Did you get my wire yesterday? Because you didn’t ring – anyway this is what I wanted to say to you … I have to go to London this weekend in connection with overseas service, have to travel back on Monday night and will probably have to call in at Durham to collect my trunk. Where will you and Daddy be? Because if I go I’ll be sent off almost immediately and don’t want to miss you.
It couldn’t have come at a more awkward time – with NO notice at all and Mrs R. J. on leave.
Now, you are not to fret – whatever happens it will be for the best. I have to go to HQ to report and also order my tropical kit from Austin Reed …
Please don’t worry about this, I haven’t gone yet – But if you can manage to be at home on Tuesday (and I know what a bother it is) it would be marvellous. There’s no time for me to stop on the way as I MUST be back here by Wednesday or Thursday. I hate having to write this in such a hurry, and without a lot of careful thought, but there’s nothing else for it as when I’ll get a moment today I can’t say …
By the way, this is most confidential – almost secret so please don’t tell everyone, though I know it will be very hard to keep it to yourself. I have told Daddy and Rosemary – and will try and get in touch with you as soon as possible.
With very much love, Mummy,
Sheila
Lundin Links / [destination scribbled out]
12/2/42
My dear Mama –
… I am now ‘en route’ together with Mary Dugdale and Sybil Hoole – it was a terrible rush getting off, but I think I’ve got everything.
Now listen, Mary is probably coming to join me in a month or so, and I have asked her to write to you before she goes in case you would like to send any letters out by hand, and also my wee watch which is at the menders, and which I have asked to be forwarded to you. I’m afraid I’ve no idea what was wrong with it or how much it will cost, so I’m afraid that will be an outstanding debt, which I’m sorry about. But apart from that I can think of nothing.
Friday has been such a rush. I rose at 7.15 to take divisions for the last time – and have been doing things up to the last moment. I packed off 2 suitcases and golf bag and sent them by rail so they will be arriving in due course. My fur coat I’ve had sent to Draffens and I’ve told them to surrender it to no one except you and me.
As I told Daddy last night, if I am not able to take any spare cash I have away with me, I will send on a money order to him and he is allowed to send £2 on any one day to me – by money order is best, I think, or perhaps postal order, I’m not sure which. Also, I have my post office book with me, together with my savings stamp book and 2 certificates which I will send by registered post. Oh, it is all such a rush!
Mary Dugdale came down yesterday … and we had a very merry evening. Everyone has been sweet to me, and I am terribly sorry to have to leave them.
This must only be a short note, as I must scribble 2 more whilst on the track to Bert and Paul …
Heaps of love
Sheila
Please send me 1/4d for the scissors. They are in one of the cases and I do apologise for not sending them before. S.
In the Bank
13/2/42
Dear Mama,
I am sending my P.O. savings book, 2 certificates, and 3 2/6 stamps, all by registered post – also a Book token, because I won’t have time to change it, I’m afraid. Please change it for anything you think would be nice, it’s for 12/6d and I can read it when I return (or them, as the case may be!) Am having a lot of bother re extra cash, but am surmounting the difficulties by travellers cheques, which are being prepared now – there’s no time for any other method. No cash shortage though – everything grand.
It was nice to hear you last night – I hope all my things arrive safely. I’ve just seen Sybil off. Wasn’t it sweet of her to come over, it made such a difference as it would have been horrid spending the evening alone. A lovely day here – am getting quite excited about it all.
Must rush now
Heaps of love
Sheila
Sheila was not allowed to tell anyone apart from her parents where or how she was going, so the few letters written from on board give nothing away. However, she kept a copy of her joining instructions, which contain some rather intimidating ‘notes’:
Every member of the party is to remember that the reputation of the WRNS in Alexandria will depend largely upon the impression which they make. It is hoped that everyone will both in their conduct and appearance, maintain the traditions of the service.
On board, ratings may wear ‘bluette overalls in warm weather to save the washing of white dresses … gloves are not worn with white uniform’. Civilian clothing was not to be worn throughout the voyage save for ‘sports kit or fancy dress’ but could be worn on arrival in Alexandria on leave of ‘24 hours or longer, for recreation, for private dances outside any Naval, Military or RAF establishment’.
Like a school uniform list, the WRNS kitting list is extremely detailed and specifies approved suppliers. The rules of underwear were very strict:
For Alexandria a slightly larger quantity of underwear will be required than is necessary in England owing to the frequent need for frequent changes in a hot climate.
White knickers, closed at the knee, must be worn with white uniform. White petticoats will be required.
Anything tight or ‘scratchy’ is very uncomfortable in a hot climate.
Wrens were also advised not to drink the tap water, not go about in bare feet as ‘many unpleasant germs lurk in the dust’, and warned not to go to sleep inadequately covered for fear of catching ‘severe cold, stomach and back ache’.
Nevertheless life on board the three-month journey on HMST Nea Holland was not all bad. Sheila managed to post a couple of short letters in February before they left for Africa, where she reports that ‘nothing seems to have happened. We have plenty to eat, but at odd hours’.
Rather blighted by the rules of censorship, ‘there seem to be orders everywhere telling you what you mustn’t say … I’m absolutely certain my other letters won’t have got through the censor all right, as though I thought I was being most discreet, I gather I said quite the wrong things!’
24 February
… However, here I am, quite well, and feel I’m getting fatter every moment – because all we seem to do is eat – hundreds of other people seem to be writing terrific letters at great length. 2 and 4 pages, but I cannot think of anything to tell you. Oh yes I can – we have started classes today learning the language – a dear old boy is teaching us – so far we have collected reams of words, but I find it very difficult to remember them all, as yesterday – I can’t imagine why – I started to learn Turkish, but have given it up, temporarily anyway.
We’ve had 2 P.T. classes which have been rather fun, but most strenuous – but no doubt very good for us. One dance, and one cinema show have also been arranged, but for some reason both have been cancelled.
Sheila was to make some good friends on the long voyage, among them Diana Chard, later Booth, and a longstanding boyfriend, Robin Chater, described on first meeting as ‘quite nice, musical and theatrical and may prove quite fun’.
In March they make their first landfall in, I believe, Sierra Leone and she writes a more detailed letter, which gives a good idea of the daily routine on board ship – mainly a lot of eating and drinking:
13th March 1942
My dear Mummy and Daddy –
You won’t have got my last effort yet, I know, but here is another note to add to the collection – the 4th I’ve written since we started, I think. Well life is progressing according to plan, though it’s still a trifle boring – rising, eating, boat drill, drinking, eating, deck games, tea, drinking, eating, drinking then a spell on the deck, and so to bed. However, we have been ashore once – very lucky too, we were. When we got ashore, we were met by 2 naval officers, who drove us off in their car, the Wrens following in a lorry. Then we drove through villages to the town and then on to bathe on a lovely beach with great waves breaking on the shore – it was very warm – about 90 degrees F I should think. The natives were interesting and also very interested – their funny clothes and houses amused us terribly, and all around were thickly wooded hills, and lovely flowers all very brightly coloured. After one bathe we had tea and returned to the Base for dinner. By that time it was dark and we were driven 6 in the car, up into the hills to see what it was like by night. So cool and refreshing and very different from the sticky heat we’d been accustomed to. Then we had to head back to the base as we were due to take the Wrens off at 2015. It was grand fun.
I have turned a marvellous brown – my legs and arms at least – I just can’t imagine what it’s like at home now – I suppose you are still wearing thick overcoats and not even thinking of spring clothes at all – I feel quite ashamed of the amount of food there is to eat.
… I refuse course after course every meal including breakfast. Also chocolate in profusion and I have even just bought a fountain pen, as mine has died on me temporarily!
The sea is such a marvellous blue it has to be seen to be believed. I’m told it’s the salt in it which makes it so – also, we see quite a different set of stars as the time wears on – it’s great fun helping to find out what they are and we gaze at them every night, after dinner, when it is cool. We even had a dance on deck one night, but it was rather hot, though great fun.
Laundry is rather bad still, but I managed to wash 2 of my white frocks the other day – but it was the ironing that floored me completely – I just couldn’t get there today and in the end was so hot I felt as if someone was continuously spraying me with a hose – horrible! However we have just acquired a batman – a dear little man – and he cleans our shoes and brushes our clothes and generally makes life more pleasant. We don’t even have to make our beds now, as we had a bust up with one steward, and the lazy hound was somewhat galvanised into action after that.
We’ve had one or two lectures lately on Naval affairs, and are having another one tomorrow on submarines at my request. Goody, it certainly makes something for us to do – and the Wrens too …
Our language classes are growing more and more muddly – don’t think I shall ever be much good (which reminds me I haven’t done my homework yet!) I find I took deplorably few books with me, and have to rely on other people for amusement, bar knitting. What did you get with my book token, Mummy? Something nice I hope. My rug is doing more than it’s ever done before – working overtime in fact because we always sit on rugs on the deck, not in chairs. I am very annoyed, all those shampoos you bought have inadvertently been put in my case which is in the hold, and I’ve now to rely on Lux – or the ship’s barber who is quite good really. We have a ship’s sweep every day, but I’ve won nothing yet; also housie-housie games about once a week – Margot won twice running the other night, but it’s a very poor game really!
There is an escaped monkey on board which tears about the rigging madly, and behaves in a very queer fashion. No one has been able to catch it yet, but we throw it bananas, so it does get something to eat. Somebody alas saw a rat on our deck last night – so I do hope it doesn’t mean we’re due for a nocturnal visitation tonight! Thank heavens I’ve a top bunk. I’d be terrified if I saw a rat peering at me in the dim light of morning!
I think I’ve exhausted my present stock of news pro tem, but I may be able to add more later on, before the mail goes.
I sent you a cable the other day, but it was impossible to send them in the end, so it was withdrawn – Pity – I’d picked a most suitable 3 groups from the list they gave us!
No air mail, I hear, so you’ll probably get this in 6/8 weeks’ time. Doesn’t it seem ages? I’m just rushing off to my lessons, so no more.
Heaps of love
Sheila
Finally, towards the end of April – after three long months and another glorious stopover, this time in Cape Town – the Nea Holland docks in Port Said, and Sheila joyfully writes to her parents, scrawled with numerous PS’s indicating her excitement:
Alexandria
23/4/42
HMS Nile
c/o GPO London EC1
Did you get my cable I sent in March?
Love to R what is her address?
1st two letters arrived today. Will answer later!
Dear Mummy and Daddy
Look at the address and you will realise your fears are over! They were quite groundless too but none-the-less inevitable I suppose! We thoroughly enjoyed the journey – the second part better than the first I think because we had made quite a lot of friends on board. I told you about the first time we went ashore – well the second was even better; I can’t mention names, but I had a parcel of stockings sent to you, Mummy, so you’ll probably gather from that (hope they aren’t too thick – will send some more, and cosmetics and food soon). There was plenty to see at this place and we took the girls out in two buses one morning all around the countryside. It would have made your hearts bleed to see the fruit – it was marvellous and so cheap. The country was very beautiful and the sea lovely – in fact, lots of people have lost their hearts to the place and want to live there après la guerre – (Not me tho’). People were extraordinarily kind and dances were arranged for us, though I think they were more interested in the men! 2 nights running we went to an awfully nice club to dance, and of course there were various preceding parties. On the last day there, another girl and I, Diana, decided to spend the day on our own, so we set off for a well-known bathing beach, munching gorgeous chocolates all the way. The surf was wonderful, and we had such a good bathe, followed by a long walk along the beach – Then the sun set behind the mountains, so we changed, had dinner (someone insisted on standing us this) and then connected with some friends of her aunt, who lived in the place. They met us in their car and drove us round the country in the dark, and then we visited Diana’s two small cousins, who live here at an old school. About 10.30 we returned to the ship – presumably to bed. However, Diana met a friend of hers on board [Robin Chater] who was feeling rather browned off, so he collected his best friend. We retrieved our passes from the gangway, hired a taxi, and set off for a voyage of exploration – The lights really were LOVELY – I don’t suppose we’ll ever see anything so beautiful until the war’s over. Eventually, after driving round for ages, we stopped at a little roadhouse, where you were served straight in your car; I ate and ate – But that wasn’t all. When we got back to the ship, we had another feast and didn’t get to bed till 4 a.m. – It was such fun – all so spontaneous. This all led to tremendous times once we got going again – there were very few nice people on the boat really. I won the ship’s sweep twice, which I think was rather clever, and of course this called for tremendous celebrations – I’m afraid drinking became rather a bad habit, but not an unbreakable one! We gave a cocktail party to all our friends, and the biggest draft on board (to which Robin belonged) gave one too, and there were various private parties happening all the time. I borrowed a lilo and used to sleep on deck a lot, but it meant rising at 6 am, otherwise you got soaked by the hoses cleaning the decks! I’m afraid I never became much good at the language classes, but it does form a basis to start from – we were all very sorry to leave, really, and as a matter of fact, 5 of us nearly got left behind, but managed to get off an hour or so later – We had a hurried meal, and then were headed into a train (sleepers) and next morning we were here. Alas, tho’, I felt terribly tired and retired to bed – Next day still felt tired, had the doctor who announced I had German Measles!! So I was carted off to Hospital, where I still am – quite well now and happy. But rather tired of being shut away. Another girl from my cabin has joined me, and quite a lot of people came to see us. We had O/E Troops from the ship yesterday, who is stationed near us and who promises us lots of parties when we recover. Phil’s Naval brother has also been to see us and our doctor sends in his sister and cousin periodically so we are well looked after! I don’t know what my work will be yet – probably starting next week –I have had NO mail from you – how have you been writing? Airgraph is the quickest – you can write several in continuation, if you have lots to say, or air mail P/C is pretty quick – Letters not so good but air mail is the only way. Otherwise it takes 3 months!! The weather is very pleasant, quite cool and we are still in blues – I wish I had brought a few more warm things with me … They’re very strict about long hair – mine will have to come off, I can see!! We have to chaperone the ratings to dances and get them back by 10.30 and also sleep in the convent where they live for the night. We are living in a hotel pro tem, but our Quarters will be ready soon – I haven’t seen Bert – he is quite a way away, I hear, but have seen old Kay Way, who used to share my room in Methil – What has happened about my watch? Have you heard from Mary Dugdale? I would very much like to be in England now – it must be looking lovely, with all the green trees and flowers – there are lots of flowers and trees here – I was surprised. But they are all bright and palm-like. We get one of these letter cards a week – I will write that, or an airgraph weekly, with an air mail letter thrown in occasionally for any extra news and snaps. Have not been able to send cables from here yet as have been shut up!!
Tons of love – Sheila
With Diana Chard in Cape Town.
The airgraph became the standard method of letter-writing, but space was limited, hence all Sheila’s letters from here onwards appear in one long paragraph and jump from subject to subject, in a very modern stream-of-consciousness fashion; she hopes her parents won’t mind the ‘squashiness’. This gives them a breathless and enthusiastic tone, a true reflection of her first impressions of life in Alexandria.
Alexandria is an ancient city, built in 330BC on the orders of Alexander the Great, after whom it is named. It was the most important provincial capital of the Roman Empire and boasted the lighthouse, Pharos, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, was home to Cleopatra and was conquered briefly by Napoleon, but retaken by the British in 1801. King Farouk had a summer palace there and, in keeping with his lavish lifestyle, infuriated his people and the British by burning the lights all night during the blackout.
In the Second World War it was of great strategic importance to the British and the Allies; it was a bitter blow when it was raided by Italian submarines in 1941 and the Valiant and Queen Elizabeth were sunk and put out of action.
Because of its location, Alexandria was a Levantine city, full of Greeks, Jews, Italians, French and, of course, during the war, British. It was a city renowned for its depravity as well as its cosmopolitanism; its most famous son is the poet Cavafy, whose main themes are sensuality, homosexuality, uncertainty about the future, all in the context of the great Hellenistic tradition. E.M. Forster, T.S. Eliot and David Hockney have all paid tribute to his genius. He encapsulates Alexandria’s schizophrenic character.
To get a flavour of the city that was to be Sheila’s home, you can do no better than to read Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet, a long love-song to the city, both rich and poor:
Capitally, what is this city of ours? What is resumed in the word Alexandria? In a flash my mind’s eye shows me a thousand dust-tormented streets. Flies and beggars own it today – and those who enjoy an intermediate distance between either. Five races, five languages, a dozen creeds … Fragments of every language – Armenian, Greek, Amharic, Moroccan Arabic; Jews from Asia Minor, Pontus, Georgia: mothers born in Greek settlements on the Black Sea; communities cut down like branches of trees, lacking a parent body, dreaming of Eden. These are the poor quarters of the white city; they bear no resemblance to those lovely streets built and decorated by foreigners where the brokers sit and sip their morning papers. Even the harbour does not exist for us here. In the winter, sometimes, rarely, you can hear the thunder of a siren – but it is another country. Ah! The misery of harbours and the names they conjure when you are going nowhere. It is like a death – a death of the self uttered in every repetition of the word, Alexandria, Alexandria.6
For the British forces it was a very different city; although Sheila enjoyed visiting the bazaar and bargaining for goods, I am sure she never went anywhere near the notorious red light area, around the Rue des Soeurs (named after a convent; I wonder if it was one of the ones where Sheila stayed?) and the backdrop for several of Lawrence’s novels.
Her second letter begins to describe her living conditions, work and the daily routine. I still have the portrait referred to in the letter, by a Polish artist she met in Methil:
27.04.42
Dear Mama and Papa –
I was so pleased to get your two letters Mummy – they both came together the day I wrote my last letter card.
I hope you’re both well – I’m quite recovered now – I came out of hospital on Friday last, all spots now vanished and I started work for the first time today. Naturally I can’t tell you what it’s all about, but I do find it most interesting and think I’ll like it very much once I get the hang of things. We are still living in a hotel and a big Naval brake calls for me in the morning – on the way we pick up the rest of the office – We have a whole brake of our own; all the other people working with me are men – a great change from my last Base! Our offices overlook the harbour [hole in letter so a guess] and all the ships, and we have a lovely garden so I think we are very lucky. I went into town today to have my hair done, and I bumped into old Kay Way – poor dear, she had a cable the other day to say her mother had died, but she has borne it very well, and is quite her cheerful self. Did you hear from Mary Dugdale by the way? I gather my watch should be on its way by now! Which of the crayon sketches did you like so much? The portrait, or the one sitting down? I think the portrait was excellent really. He was a dear little man – maybe I’ll see him out here – there seem to be plenty of his compatriots about. Diana Chard, one of the girls who came out with me is being married on Saturday to a Padre here who is running a club for boys under 20. They are going to do the show together, and she was specially made a Wren and sent out here for the purpose. She is a sweet girl and my best friend so far – it was with her I had so much fun the 2nd time we went ashore … I had a long letter from one of our boat companions, Robin, the other day, and we hope he and 1 of his friends will be able to come for the wedding. We move into Quarters on Friday – the 1st lot have already gone in. I hope to share a room with 1 of my draft but may be shoved in with 5 others. Not so good! My watches are very queer too. At times I go on watch at 0400 (that’s am) and also come off at 0400 on other days – a grim prospect! I still haven’t been able to send you my arrival cable – isn’t it awful? We are told to send them through Naval sources and I’ve not been able to find out quite how to do it. Will try again tomorrow – but anyway you’ve probably got my 1st letter card by now. Hope so. The shops here are quite good – lovely shoes, flowers, confectionery, but otherwise things are frantically expensive. I’m thinking of sending you a parcel of things including soap and soap flakes because somebody has just told me how hard the rationing is and of course we don’t come in for that racket … Yesterday evening we went to a cocktail party in one of the Naval establishments – their C/O travelled out with us and so we know him quite well. They have invited us to go there at any time for a drink, bathe, or dinner etc. The bathing here will be very good. I should think. The sea’s a wonderful blue and we go into whites on Friday. I have done nothing about getting any more made – there hasn’t been a moment but nobody else seems to have done so either. Still, I have 3 nice clean ones. Also I hear we may be probably allowed to wear ordinary stockings, or none at all. White are too grim. A lot of my gramophone records got bent in the heat, but we are able to buy fairly modern ones here, so I don’t mind. I visited my other sick companion yesterday and she was looking very well. Our doctor was very kind to us, bringing all his relations in turn to see us, but it is all rather awkward now I am ‘out’ as I have so little time for going about and we aren’t allowed to wander about after dark. There are 100s of cats here – all very thin and gaunt and of course donkeys and mules by the 1000s. Cars go on the right hand side, and everyone tries to rook you right and left. There seem to be so many Jews and Greeks and rather oily looking creatures about the place, almost all the women seem to wear black, very dreary. They have most queer sort of trams, rather like tubes they are (gosh the cats are squealing!) on special sort of fenced rails – The food is marvellous, I eat far too much – ice cream, fruit, lots of poultry and everything very beautifully cooked. I wonder what it will be like in Quarters? Do keep on writing, weekly and I will do the same. Try an airgraph now and again – sometimes they are surprisingly quick. I had a letter forwarded from L. Links the other day which must have come out with us, as it came by sea. I do love to hear all the news for although I think I’ll like this place very much once I get to know a lot of people and get used to my work, it’s such fun to hear what’s going on at home. Do let me know if there’s any special rationed thing you’d like or anything queer you’re short of. We’d probably be able to get it here.
Heaps of love, Sheila
Diana Chard’s wedding to David Booth in Alexandria on 2 May 1942.
Letters from home begin to play an important role in Sheila’s life from an early stage:
I really think I am the most fortunate of anyone … everyone seems to write to me and I do so love getting letters … I can’t tell you how marvellous it is to have so much mail – everyone envies me as I seem to have much the most.
She frequently reports her letter counts, ‘21 letters in 21 days’; ‘6 p.c.s ranging from 11/9 to 15/10 and 4 letters, 2/8, 30/8, 1/9, 7/9’, ‘I have just written 10 airgraphs and 2 letters’; ‘I’ve had the most tremendous mail this week, I just don’t know how to answer them’; and she even compliments her mother’s letter-writing skills: ‘I love your letters, they make me laugh so, and I read them round to everyone in my room, and they all capsize with laughter.’
She must have had a sense of history in the making as she asks, ‘Oh by the way, do you save my letters, because if you do, coupled with a diary (only a very discreet one as we aren’t allowed to keep them!) I keep, you will get a very good picture of what we do out here, when I come home’. For her part she is keeping all the letters she receives, and is ‘going to file them, so I shall have a sort of book of what is going on at home all the time I am away. How I love to hear all the gossip!’
She writes ‘roughly’ every Monday and is constantly fussing over letters going astray, ‘has my mail been coming through all right? What is the datal order of my letter cards – Tell me and I will let you know if there are any missing.’ Naturally, letters quite often went down when ships were lost, or they took months arriving if they went round the Cape.
Sheila is frustrated, on both these counts, in trying to keep up with both Paul and Jaap. Paul seems not to have known where she was and rang home and spoke to her father and rather implied he thought she was still at Methil. She wonders if he is still on the Sheffield, ‘because otherwise my letters won’t be reaching him, and I’d rather like them to, as he seemed a bit miserable’. A few weeks later she enquires again if they have heard from Paul, ‘I would like to see him again.’ She then admits to feeling homesick, despite all the gaiety of life in Alexandria: ‘Much as I like all my new friends here I do like my old ones best, and get so homesick for them all and naturally, the glorious countryside which I miss most of all.’
Of Jaap, she has ‘heard nothing and have an idea he hasn’t my proper address as I never gave it to him. I do hope he is all right.’ However, he surfaces a few weeks later, in Edinburgh, ‘He had written before, but apparently they got lost’, suffering from a broken heel having jumped out of a window for a dare. She has a large photograph of him on her dressing table, along with photos of ‘Daddy, Rosemary and Uncle Cecil7 … surrounded by all my friends’. John Pritty’s photo is soon to join them.
In early June, she meets John Pritty in the hotel. He is the brother of her friend Maureen from Rosyth, and is in hospital having his knee cartilage operated on: ‘It’s very pathetic these boys being in hospital with no one to see them. I was awfully glad I went, though it was terrifying walking down the long ward all alone.’ She is soon seeing quite a lot of him:
… twice to the Sporting Club, once to dinner at the Beau Rivage, such a nice little place by the sea, and last night to see George and Margaret and on to dinner to Pastrondis. I ate much too much. I am having lunch with him today at the Sporting Club. He is so nice, Scotch, wears nice tartan trousers and sensible to talk to and be with – unusual out here, with all the naval fly-abouts.
By mid-June she is writing of her ‘busy and hectic time these past weeks – out bathing, dining, to the flicks and so on – all with John Pritty. What a pity I left so very much of my heart way back home, isn’t it?!!’ All the same, John manages to steal a rather large part of it. Many decades later, my mother would occasionally sigh, ‘If only I had married John Pritty.’ When I read the letters that follow, I think she was looking back with rose-tinted spectacles.
John Pritty. This photograph was taken in September 1940, before he and Sheila met. He must have given this to her when he went to the desert.
Meanwhile the Wrens move from the hotel to a convent, ‘two most palatial houses in town – mansions, really, with beautiful parquet floors everywhere, grand staircases and huge rooms.’ Grand it may be but not immune from bugs; to Sheila’s horror she discovers, ‘I’m bitten all over my back, and after investigation from a room mate, and told it is a BUG!! So must rush off now on a hunt for it. UGH! There are millions of these kind of things out here.’ She is, she reports, ‘covered with bites, the mosquitoes and flies are AWFUL – all over my face, and what with these tiring watches I look rather a mess! But you soon get used to them, I’m told.’ A few weeks later and she sounds quite blasé: ‘I can’t tell you how awful the flies are, they settle on you whatever you are doing, crawl all over you, and just won’t be disturbed. I am getting quite good at hitting and killing them whilst they run over me. Mosquitoes are far easier to kill as they aren’t nearly so active.’
So begins the happiest period of Sheila’s life. It must have been thrilling for my 21-year-old Norfolk mother to find herself not only an officer, but also an independent young woman, with scores of admirers and invitations to social events of all sorts, ranging from dining, dancing, going to the races, sailing, sport – riding and hockey – all the while working godforsaken hours on watch, albeit with a jolly bunch of people. She is also surrounded by old friends from Scotland, and always bumping into friends of friends – even ‘old’ Bert is not far away and she hears news of him every now and again, and indeed hopes to visit him in Syria. Her letters exude a joie de vivre during this period:
18th May 1942
My dear Mama –
We’re hoping for some mail this week so maybe there’ll be something for me. How is everyone and what are you all doing? Here life runs on in the same pleasant way – a lot of work, sleep when you can get it and a little pleasure thrown in. Last Thursday I went out to visit some people living on the outskirts of the city – friends of someone I have met here. We went swimming first at the Sporting Club, and then on by tram. They seemed very charming and I can ring up and go whenever I please. A couple of days after that Victor Streatfield, who was O/C troops on board our old tub, invited Rachel [Charlesworth] and me out for lunch at his place. He is commanding a large station not far from here, and he collected us at about 1030, and drove us out. We had drinks in various messes – all in tents and hutments in the desert, such fun. I’ve never known anything like the flies – they were simply frightful in fact. They had a tame chameleon to try and keep them down. Then there was a marvellous lunch, still in a tent in the desert and after that we drove over to another mess for a drink. History mustn’t relate what we did next and unfortunately we had to hurry home after that because I was on watch at 5. I would be most unpopular if I was late. After doing Dogs and Middle watches I disgraced myself by oversleeping and missed my transport for afternoon watch the next day. When I eventually arrived at the office, the D.C.O. [Deputy Cypher Officer] insisted I must have lunch. So down I tootled to the wardroom, expecting to find the place bare – to my horror I discovered the place crammed full with brass hats – at least 2 captains, six commanders and equivalent numbers of senior 2 I/Cs [2nd In Commands]. Alas, once inside the door there was no turning back so, having fearfully asked permission I sat me down to lunch. I must say everyone was terribly nice – they were having a terrific discussion on a ‘bottle’ [slang for a telling-off] the C/O had given us all. I was thankful that I hadn’t been present as I didn’t want to be embroiled. I’ve just been out to buy an alarm clock – twice I overslept – and there mustn’t be a third time. It cost me 16/- the cheapest tinniest looking thing you could imagine and made in Italy too! That is a good specimen of the prices here … they are shocking. I was sitting in the drawing room this evening and felt a prick on my leg I looked up and found an enormous flea. There are 100s of them here and the mosquitoes are frightful. I had a P/C from Sheila Sage to say that Sybil Hoole has left the UK to join us. I hope to see Mary very soon now. That will be 4 from Methil! Tonight I am going on watch at 0400 so am having to go to bed specially early in consequence. I rushed into the town and had my hair done this afternoon … it looks quite nice. Have you had the parcel of stockings I sent you from one of our voyage ports? I enquired about cigarettes today and am hoping to send some to Papa soon. We have got some bathing huts on one of the best bathing beaches here, and soon we are going to start afternoons on the beach. I hope our watches will be changed soon and then I’ll be able to participate: as it is now it’s very difficult to find time for these things. I am getting quite brown, even tho’ I’ve not been trying very hard. The weather is lovely, but I fear we’re in for some hot times later on. Please tell Rosemary I’ve not written a lot of individual letters to her, except airgraphs because I knew she’d see these. I hope she won’t mind and will keep on writing the same though …
No more now. Tons of love Sheila.
Sheila and friends from her watch at Brownie’s Hut on Mustapha Beach (left to right) Sheila, Tony Field, Margot Ainscow and Frank Putt.
A recurring theme in the letters is the sending of parcels, either with gifts from the bazaar, or food that is scarce due to rationing. Sheila obviously feels intensely guilty about the quality of life – the fruit, the chocolate, the sunshine – and is constantly telling her mother off for sending her money, although she is not shy of requesting that pink frock again! All this exercise and fresh food is making her healthier; reading through the letters it is noticeable how much sickness there was amongst the forces – from jaundice to more serious illnesses, such as scarlet fever. On the whole Sheila was pretty healthy, bar the odd bout of sand-fly fever or tonsillitis, usually due to overwork:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
7/6/42
My dear Ma –
… Tomorrow I am going out to send you a parcel of sugar ready for the jam season, if I am allowed to. We can only send 5 lb at once tho’. We have now changed our watches, thank goodness and have more time off as we do more hours at once. Consequently I feel much better and have been swimming at the Sporting Club 3 times this week. I am getting thinner – hooray! … I have seen quite a lot of Mary [Dugdale] since she arrived and Sybil [Hoole, from Methil] came this week. She is a dear and brought me so much news of Scotland it made me quite homesick! … I have changed my watch since last I wrote and don’t like my new people half as much – none of our usual hysterics! Rosemary asks if I take my tin hat about with me – well, I don’t need to and we never have to take gas masks. Unheard of here! I don’t know how you send parcels to me, but I would like my pink woollen frock ready for the winter, as wool is terribly expensive here and I have no winter clothes at all. Could you find out how long it would take and how much it would cost to send please … I think I have just been roped in to do some censoring – the Wrens mail has been waiting about here for quite a while and it seems such hard luck on them … I do hope you don’t worry about me out here – I am very happy and like all the people here so much – tho’ of course life is very artificial, and I would love to be back in the U.K. However that will come … It seems so funny to wake up each morning to a lovely day – always sun, but sometimes hotter than others. I really must stop now, no more space for one thing. I’ve about six other letters to get off this morning, so heaps of love and do keep writing. Sheila
Amid talk of ‘busy and hectic times’, concern over ‘gippy tummy’, shopping and the hectic social whirl it is hard to fathom how they fitted in the work. But every now and again, Sheila reminds us of her watch timetable, and that John is part of the Eighth Army and stationed in the western desert. They must have all been on tenterhooks in June, as the British army was in retreat following its defeat at the Battle of Gazala. The troops had reached as far back as Mersa Matruh, 80 miles within the Egyptian border and, at the end of June when General Auchinleck took over command of the Eighth Army from General Ritchie, they retreated even further to a railway stop called El Alamein. Working in the Cypher Office, Sheila must have been at the epicentre of the messaging, not only about the movement of ships in the Mediterranean, but also of the status quo in the desert, as the navy and the army were working in close collaboration to deliver supplies and weapons to the forces:
17th June 1942
My dear Mama – … I went to the races on Saturday, but alas, never again as it was far from profitable. The one thing is, that everywhere here is the same, and once you’ve been to a place, all the others are like it – and I actually heard the 1st Officer say with a sigh at lunch ‘how I long to be home where you don’t have to bother what to eat or what NOT to eat!’ You see, you mustn’t eat watermelons, prawns, strawberries or apricots, as they are all liable to give you severe gippy tummy – nevertheless, we do and sometimes have to bear the consequences. As I sat down to my melon and 2 eggs, butter, marmalade, and coffee with tons of milk, this morning, I wondered what you were all having at home. Often I refuse 2 eggs for breakfast as I can’t eat them! I am terribly brown all over (except for the bathing costume area!) You would think me an Indian.
Tomorrow I am going bathing with Jack Roughton and then on to the Barbers where we are staying to dinner – They have specially invited 2 very musical people who are going to sing, and I am very much looking forward to it. John will be returning to the Wide Open Spaces this week and is very miserable about it. I shall be quite lost without my gallant cavalier! I never see Mary D. these days – she works in the Base on day work which doesn’t seem to fit in with my watches at all. Sybil is feeling rather miserable, and as I haven’t seen much of her I feel rather guilty. I think I had better wish you many happy returns of your birthday now – because I don’t know how long it will take to reach you – I would love to be at home with you, but maybe in a year’s time it’ll be possible. I hope so, don’t you?
I am having 2 frocks made – a chalk blue silk with white fleurs de lys on it and a green pin check cotton – very pretty. I am getting thinner, isn’t it marvellous. Have you heard any more of Paul? I am most anxious to know where he is and whether he has left his last ship. He might be coming out here you see. This place is looking gorgeous just now – most of the streets have trees on either side and the flame trees are just one mass of colour – a glorious vivid orange red – the bougainvilia [sic] is almost over, but these flame ones are magnificent. I wish you could see them – you can scarcely believe your eyes … I love my work – it is so terribly vital and important I really feel I am doing a good job, and it counter-balances the regrets one has of not being at home – Regrets? Of course we all have them, but they don’t necessarily make us unhappy – far from it! I’m now going to dash off to the Sporting Club to meet John for tea and then back to bed before night duty, which is from 1 am to 0830. Working all the time and if you get no sleep you feel AWFUL. I know – I’ve tried it! So heaps of love, now take care of yourself and don’t think this place is making me blasé or discontented – Just the other way round. It wakes you to reality – Sheila!
The war did indeed nearly come to Alexandria. On 28 June General Auchinleck gave the order to evacuate Alexandria and Cairo, to burn all papers, for the Delta to be flooded and for more defensive positions to be built outside the two major cities. Mussolini even flew into North Africa in preparation for the taking of Egypt, while the Germans dropped leaflets on Alexandria to prepare people for their arrival. The events of the end of June were termed ‘The Flap’, and at home came under much criticism for undue panic.
This was unkind as, for about a week, it was very touch and go as to whether the Eighth Army could hold Rommel and his forces from a final advance on Cairo. For many Egyptians, fed up with British rule of their neutral country and also with the high cost of living which had given rise to several strikes in 1942, a German victory was to be welcomed if the propaganda was to believed, and they rather enjoyed the sight of the British queuing round the block to raid their bank accounts, and the mayhem at the railway station as women and children were sent to the safety of Palestine and Luxor.
The following letter, describing The Flap and Sheila’s own evacuation, was written in September, when the censors would allow it. It also shows that despite her relative lack of education she had keen powers of observation and a writer’s eye for detail and humour. It is the first of many descriptive letters that she sends from Egypt and, later, Germany:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
C/O GPO London
27th September 1942
My dear Mummy –
I haven’t written you a proper long letter for ages, and ever since we came back from Ismailia I’ve been meaning to tell you about our ‘evacuation’, but thought I’d better wait a bit before I gave you a detailed account of it!
Well, we had been working normally for quite a long time at Navy House, which was rather a ramshackle old building standing in its own grounds by the side of the harbour and everything had been carrying on as usual – We’d had a Malta convoy to cope with, which meant a lot of doubling up watches, and of course we’d been told to expect a push in the desert in June, but as ever, nobody thought a great deal about it and were far more concerned with our convoy, which after all, was a Naval operation. These convoys, I may add, are one of the most exciting bits of our work, as we direct one portion from Alex, and every signal we send out is vital and terribly important. So the push came, and at first we did extremely well – everyone was very confident and pleased. Then things began to change a bit, and it became apparent that Gerry was moving in the wrong direction. Every army signal from the desert was received with great excitement and not a little trepidation, and of course everyone was discussing what they thought would happen. I personally have, and always will have, great faith in the army, as I have met a lot of grand people in the army out here and know that there must be thousands more like them. However, things came to such a pitch that plans for the precautionary removal of Naval units from Alexandria were formed, and on the 28th of June, it was decided that we should move. But we weren’t told anything definite, and although we knew what was in the air, beyond packing one’s vital garments etc. there was nothing to do but wait and see.
That day I was working all morning, and was supposed to do an all night. Just as Margot and I left the office we were told it was possible we were going to Port Said that evening, but were not to breathe a word to anyone. So we returned to 11, Rue Rassafah, where I found Esmé Cameron, a great friend of mine who shared my room, packing like mad for herself and Audrey Coningham, who worked with her, and off she went at half past two. Then I discovered other people had already gone, but still no word for us. We sat around all the afternoon, Mary Dugdale, Rachel and I, and others whom I can’t remember. We idly packed, wrote letters home (one of which I found the other day) ate an enormous tea, and censored a huge basket full of Wrens’ letters, which we thought might get left behind if we rushed off in a hurry. I can remember Mary playing and replaying a rather wizard record of Richard Tauber singing ‘all the things you are’ – time and time again, I thought everyone would create hell, but luckily, they didn’t seem to notice it. In the middle of all the turmoil a man who had seen John Pritty in Cairo arrived with a letter for me from him – I tried not to show that we were on the move, and think I succeeded because when he saw John afterwards he said he didn’t know that we had moved.
Eventually Mary and I got bored, so we took to hurrying into town, as she had to collect some laundry, and we also did a little odd shopping, bought chocolate and biscuits and so on in case we had to go. We returned for dinner at seven to discover that things really had come to pass and that we were to go at 1015 that evening on a special train to Port Said. We rang up and booked seats, but of course weren’t able to get a taxi for ages, and we all had at least 3 pieces of baggage, odd tennis racquets and so on. However, we did get one, and then there was journey after journey of 2 people plus baggage, and one returning with the car in case the driver ran away. Johnny Rathbone, who was a survivor from the Malta convoy [her friend Roddy’s husband, who lost everything when his ship went down] and who was staying in the officers’ rest house next door was my salvation – he appeared out of the blue to say goodbye to me, as he was off to Durban the next day and seeing me plus an enormous amount of baggage still on the doorstep at 10 o’clock, found another taxi from nowhere, and off we set with about 3 minutes to catch the train in. When I and my baggage were eventually disgorged from the taxi and flung onto the crowded platform, to my horror I saw the train slowly sliding out of the station! That was such an anti-climax that I decided there and then to wait till the morning and leave at six am. However, it was not to be so. Everyone seemed to take the most kindly interest in me – a Naval Commander patted me on the back in a fatherly way and told me not to worry and various sailors and soldiers made jokes about the last train to Munich. Just as I was deciding to spend the night in the cloakroom with all the baggage, up rushed the R.T.O. [Railway Transport Officer], an army Captain, a gunner I think. Without more ado, I and my bags were tossed into a 15 cwt truck, and with about six Naval ratings, we just tore through Alex down the Aboukir Road, to Sidi Gaber, where the train was making its next stop. All speed limits were thrown to the wind (and almost my hat as well!) and do you believe we arrived there about 5 minutes before the train.
When it eventually stopped in the station, the R.T.O. made a dash for the C in C’s coach (reserved specially for us) and, on finding all the doors locked, told me I’d have to be hoisted into the carriage. There are no glass windows, so it was fairly easy. So in I went, and was given quite a welcome by 3 Naval officers, 1 large wolfhound dog, and the fleet chaplain. The bags were thrown in after. When we eventually settled down, all in the dark, the dog, Jasper, made its home on me – and we proceeded to try to sleep. We could see some kind of an air raid taking place over Alex, but couldn’t tell whether it was bad or not. It was a brilliant moonlit night, and about every quarter of an hour we stopped at some small village and people climbed in and out. There was no sleep for us – me, anyway!
I should tell you that the parts of my equipment I really needed – haversack with food, water (it was terribly warm) washing materials, and my great coat, etc. had gone on with one of the first batches, and the train was so crowded it was impossible to move out of one compartment. Eventually we stopped at Santa, and the man who was sitting next to me discovered that his wife, baby, nurse and 19 pieces of baggage were in the carriage next door. He had to leave them to come away and had no idea they had been able to make the train. I remembered later they had caught the train at Sidi Gaber as I did. Everyone was terribly thirsty and we had most amusing bargainings for melons and eggs and lemonade (all of which it is madness to eat, as water can so very easily be tainted in this country).
However, we arrived at Banha, where we were told we were to be shunted into a siding and would stay there for six hours. It was there that I remet all my friends, who were very worried about me – they had had an awful time having got into the wrong coach and had had crowds of squealing wogs [a commonly used term in the war, possibly standing for Western Oriental Gentleman] yelling at them – in the end 2 N.O.s just arrived in the country, mounted guard outside their carriage – but it was awful for them, as they were 9, plus baggage, in one small compartment.
All my carriage, except the fleet chaplain and I, removed themselves temporarily, and with great enterprise. The chaplain produced a bottle of lime, (which turned out to be far more gin) which we shared, and offered me his cassock to sleep in, as it was then about 2am and rather cold. So I slept till about 6:30. When I woke up with sun pouring in the carriage and everyone saying what a marvellous breakfast they had had at a local cafe for the forces – The Victory. So he and I got out and ordered an enormous meal of omelette, tomatoes and chips and tea. My goodness, it was marvellous, then off the chaplain sped and bought the most enormous melon I have ever seen, and a huge bunch of grapes all fresh and with the bloom still on them. On returning to the carriage, I found Pip Pritchard, another Wren Officer, installed. She hadn’t been feeling well and was swathed in blankets and sheets and surrounded by pillows.
Soon we were on our way once more, but huge smuts kept blowing over me and I was filthy. We arrived at Ismailia, and Mrs King, plus baby, nurse, baggage and so on separated and on we sped to Port Said. We were now surrounded by horrid yellow sand, and the Suez Canal on one side. The wind from the desert ride was so hot that we had to shut the windows. Occasionally we saw a ship in the canal, which was terribly calm, and much wider than I thought it would be. The melon was a godsend. We cut it in pieces with a razor blade, and I have never loved one more.
So we arrived at Port Said, the heat by this time was tremendous, and it seemed ages before we had sorted out our baggage and travelled in a huge lorry to the YWCA. This was a flat on the very top of a tall building overlooking the sea – it was so cool and peaceful and we were soon installed. That night just as I was getting to bed, someone came in to tell me Esmé Cameron was downstairs the poor girl had had rather a dreadful time, had only the clothes that she stood up in, and had lost all her possessions [she had gone down with the Medway, recorded in a later letter, when censors would allow]. I had never expected to see her again so soon.
The next day Rachel and I trooped round Port Said, which I liked. I sent you a cable, and then we went to Navy House to see about a case of mine which had vanished. By that time Wrens were arriving from everywhere, by sea as well as by land, and when we returned to the YWCA. I was detailed to go to a convent and see about setting up beds for 40 Wrens. So into a gharry I jumped, and away to the convent, where I found about 20 Wrens already installed, large numbers of nuns who spoke no English and some Gyppo sailors. Between us we managed to erect about 35 or 40 beds in a huge room right at the top of a tall building, and arranged all about lights, bathrooms, showers etc. This ended with a complete tour of the roof and the school, as all the bathrooms, showers and lavatories appeared to be stationed up there – speaking French the whole time! It really was terribly funny, and I thought how much everyone would have laughed if they had seen me.
In the midst of all this (I had asked for tea to be prepared for 20 Wrens and those who were in had eaten the lot, so more chaos ensued!) I was phoned up by Pip, who said I must go back to the YWCA immediately, and she would carry on. So off I went, once more in a gharry and arrived just in time for a well earned cup of tea. But alas, my days in Port Said were numbered, for I was told to pack immediately and drive down to Ismailia in a lorry to be there in an hour’s time! This meant packing for Renee and Rachel too – the former being missing, and the latter having to rush out to a laundry to collect a bundle of filthy clothes we’d left there in the morning. In about half an hour Margot, Rachel and I were ready and boarded a huge lorry crammed with trunks, bags and N.O.s and we set off at high speed for Ismailia. The road runs by the side of the Suez Canal and it’s about 40 miles. The sun was setting and it really was a grand trip. Soon we knew we were approaching Ismailia, as we saw a lot of pine trees in the distance, and in a short time we were driving through avenues of trees with some grass growing by the sides of the Sweet Water Canal and everywhere looking almost English. Ismailia is a very green town – with grass squares, trees and palms everywhere – such a pleasant change after our dreary, dusty journey. We reported to Navy House, and were then taken to the YWCA which was just grand. A modern house belonging to the Canal Company, with a green garden and the most charming people running it. Mary Dugdale and Kay Way were already there as well as a lot of other Wrens, so we had many joyful reunions.
Rachel and I tossed up for which watches we should do as one was wanted to go on at 8.30 that evening and one at 1am. In the end I did the all night, sleeping most of the time on an arm chair. I think I could have slept anywhere!
And so our life in Ismailia began; it was terribly hot, and I have never worked in such dirt and heat in all my life, nor have I even felt so tired. But I loved it all – just one main street, with tiny shops either side, and the second storey coming out over the pavement, with pillars to keep it up, so that when you went shopping you were in the shade the whole time. Of the rest of our life in Ismailia I think there remains nothing to be told. We were there till the 8th of August, when most of the C in C’s staff returned to Alexandria, including the Cypher Officer.
There has been quite a lot of controversy here as to whether the Navy’s lightning move was justified or not. The RAF and the army rather tease us about it all, but I personally (and a lot of other people think the same) think that it was a wise step, because, if something unforeseen had occurred and we had not been prepared, events would have taken a very critical trend. Of course, there were many things which could have been organised better, but this is to be expected in any move of this kind. I think the people in Alex were completely shattered, or they say ‘so long as the Navy is here, we are all right’. All the nuns in the convent here were weeping and I really think believed Jerry was on their back doorstep! Naturally they were delighted to see us back again.
I think probably this tale will make you smile quite a bit, it did me tremendously, because all the time I couldn’t feel I was taking part in a real evacuation, and that one might see a German tank pop round the corner – as some people did. (They were 90 miles away actually) Actually we had far the best time of anyone – a great many of the Wrens travelled from Alexandria to Suez in cattle trucks, stopping by the wayside at regular intervals so that they could spend pennies. On one occasion a number of Wrens plus the wife of one of the N.O.s, got left behind and the train sped on without them. Poor Diana Booth was in hospital at the time with tonsillitis, and was taken to Palestine by hospital train. When she arrived there, it turned out to be Scarlet Fever, and she had to spend 6 weeks in hospital the only woman patient among hundreds of men.
So you see, we do see life!
I don’t think I have said anything in this letter which wouldn’t pass the censor, and anyway, when you get it it will be very old news. However, maybe you’ll treat the matter with ‘some reserve’ and not tell the tale at every bridge party you go to!!! Please don’t throw this away, as it’s one of the longest letters I’ve ever written and I should like to read it over again when war is over!
With heaps of love to you all. You’ll gather from this that the Navy takes good care of us!
Sheila
In early July, Sheila’s parents were unaware that she was part of the evacuation and that her letters until 8 August are in fact written from Ismailia, although she is careful to let nothing slip. It might explain why Sheila gets so particularly annoyed at her mother’s misaddressing the letters, as it will result in them taking far longer to reach her. She realises they must be worrying about her and tries to reassure them. She is also concerned for Paul who, she assumes, must also be anxious. She must have been desperately worried for John and Robin, and countless other friends, who were all in the desert:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
c/o CPO
London
1st July
My dear Ma –
I have just sent you a cable saying that all is well and that you are not to worry. The Navy always turns up trumps and is certainly doing so at the moment!
So please do keep writing to me at the above address – as I think I asked you to before – not NILE, as I have never been based on them, and it takes much longer. Letters are surer to reach me if you put C-in-C on them. We are still thoroughly enjoying life – not in the same manner, maybe – but it is all great fun. Our only concern is for you all at home, who, I am sure, are imagining all kinds of silly things which are quite untrue. I have kept writing as usual, and sent 2 cables just lately, so I hope you realise that all is quite well. I am so sorry for those poor boys in the desert – it must be hell for them.
I had a long letter from R. 2 days ago, a p.c. from you, and also a letter from Paul, who seemed rather miserable. I will try and write to him soon, but maybe you could send him a wee note HMS Sheffield c/o G.D.O, saying I have had his letter and am very fit and well?
Gosh, it is very hot here – I must now run along, and get this posted and censored. I hope you’ll get it in 3 weeks as usual – meanwhile, you have the cables, anyway.
Heaps of love anyway,
Sheila
Office of C in C Mediterranean c/o G.P.O
7th July / 42
My dear Mama – I hope you got my 2 cables I sent and an air mail letter card telling you not to worry – all is well here – one can scarcely imagine that Rommel is on the back doorstep though I’m sure our poor solider boys know what it’s all about! We are all working very hard, but manage to get in a lot of bathing and parties thrown in. I am going to write you a long air mail letter soon telling you about all the things we have been doing recently which I may not tell you about at the moment. It will make you laugh tremendously as it did us at the time!
At the moment it is terribly terribly hot, in fact it is unbearable to go out in the middle of the day. Mary Dugdale and Kay Way are with me, and we are all very happy, but we have heard from Sybil Hoole that she is miserable. I don’t know quite why she ever came as she’s never been terribly happy since she arrived … I’m afraid I am going to miss some of your mail as I have just heard quite a lot have been lost recently, I hope you kept the counterfoil of the money under our p/o (whichever it was) you sent me, as otherwise it will be down the drain …
Do please note my new address – not that it is new as I have always been C in C – I never was NILE – we are all appointed there for disposal. We are all just covered in bites and the flies nearly drive you mad. I found a flea in my bath last night, so left it to drown. Lo and behold after 5 minutes in water, it was still alive and kicking when I let the water out! I give up entirely!!
No more now.
Heaps of love
Sheila
Office of C in C Mediterranean
c/o GPO London
13/7/42
My dear Mama –
Four of your letters arrived at once, with 6 others from various people, so I am well occupied. To begin with, note and remember my address – it is my permanent one and I never have been NILE. My letters are censored by me myself, but none of yours are censored at all, why I don’t quite know. You ask me if I want any papers – well, it would be fun now and again to read English papers and know exactly what import they attach to goings on out here. We all love so much to have news from home! Especially to see pictures of the countryside and so on …
… I can’t tell you how hot it is, really rather horrid and the glare is terrific, but we go to bathe in a lovely salt lake here which is really very beautiful. There are a lot of trees and green grass and it makes us all feel rather homesick. I went out sailing on Saturday which was great fun and yesterday, Sunday, we went to a cocktail party on board a hospital ship, where we met some most interesting people – unfortunately I left my sun glasses at the US Club on Saturday, so went back to fetch them and met a Brigadier and his friend a Major (they were at the cocktail party) who took us out there in their car and plied us with drinks. This Major knew Bert and had seen him only a few weeks ago. It was such fun to chat over our experiences with him. Mary Dugdale was with me – she is so lucky, a very great friend of hers is at GHQ and she is going to ring him up tonight – maybe he will come down and see her. I am rather unlucky, as all the people I know here are scattered – dear little Robin Chater is in the desert somewhere. I am rather worried as I’ve heard nothing of him for 2 months. I do hope he is OK. John Pritty has returned to the desert, I heard from him last week. Jack Roughton is here no more, but up North, in fact none of my old friends are about at all …
Life in Ismailia seems to have been fun, but terribly hot: ‘you have no conception of how hot it is, the sweat just pours off me when I am sitting still.’ The flies are ‘appalling’ as are the bugs: ‘I have found 2 bugs in my bed since I arrived, but cut them in half with scissors thus ending their little game.’ They are living in a large YWCA, more ‘like a hotel and it’s all so English, informal and friendly [that] we all get awfully homesick’, run by a Scots couple, and set in a big garden of trees and palms. There is a good Indian bazaar, and she has bought a pretty necklace, plus a present for her mother – a turquoise and seed pearl necklace and an elephant hair brooch, and some gazelle-skin slippers, powder, Revlon lipstick and hair grips for Rosemary. But ‘everyone is so dishonest out here, it is unbelievable – and horrid people follow you in the streets trying to sell you things and like the flies they won’t be shaken off either. It is most trying.’
There are very few white women, but ‘1000s of men, it must be awful for them’, and although there are lots of army sisters, they are ‘ugly and old – until we came along of course’. She, Mary and one or two of the ‘less flighty ones’ are ‘terribly tired of a lot of these men, who are so obviously out for a good time, whoever they are with, and you have to be careful in sorting the chaff from the oats. We just can’t think how some of these girls are out with different people each night and seem to enjoy it! We thoroughly enjoy life, all the same.’
The Sweet Water Canal and ferry – opposite the YWCA in Ismailia.
Despite being terribly ‘tired of being asked out by every Tom, Dick and Harry’, she, Mary and Rachel Charlesworth, who was on her OTC in Greenwich, are having a very ‘gay time’, meeting up with old shipmates from the ‘tub’ and all Robin’s division, apart from Robin ‘stuck out in the front lines’. She hears ‘consistently’ from John Pritty and feels ‘rather awful really, as though I did see a lot of him, I explained fully my position and hoped I wasn’t leading him up the garden path’. It has never been clear to me if it is Paul or Jaap to whom she has lost her heart. To complicate matters, Maureen, John’s sister, has arrived in Egypt, although Sheila hasn’t yet seen her.
Sailing is a good distraction from the heat and the bugs (‘found 3 bugs on my mosquito net yesterday and 1 this morning!!’) and she and Mary frequently go out with two of her fellow Cypher ‘boys’, Tony and Putty. On the work front there has been a ‘revolutionary change with the new Principal Cypher Officer changing the watches:
4 Wrens and 1 man on one watch, 2 Wrens and 3 men on another, 1 Wren and 4 men on the other watch. I am the latter, which means of course, that we all have to work very hard, but I feel in a way it is a teeny weeny compliment to me that I have been put on the smallest watch, but of course, it is only because I am a fast typist, and hardly anyone is much good at this art! I am on with Tony and Putty, and Lambert, my 1st D.C.O. [Deputy Cypher Officer], and we get on very well together.
Many things in Egypt are expensive, and although her gramophone is an ‘absolute blessing’, records cost 7s or 8s compared to 2s 10d in England. Laundry is also expensive, as is shoe whitening, but nail varnish is cheap, as are more local goods. With two guineas birthday money from her mother, she is buying some ‘leopard skin slippers, a service handbag and cotton dressing gown … Yes, I think I will be able to get them all for that. Some things aren’t dear!!’ She is having great difficulty with the parcel home, however, as sugar is now rationed and she feels very bad about it.
Her last letter from Ismailia is very bubbly:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
c/o CPO London
3/8/42
My dear Ma –
I am so terribly happy in this new place – I just love the life. I have made new friends and remet old ones, and it is all such fun. Tomorrow I am being driven up to … to see Com. Maloney, Com. Williams is taking me, and we are starting at 7 am in order to miss the heat. We had such fun there last week, Mary and I went out to a hilarious dinner party at their house – the guests amused us by performing acrobatics and ballet dances after dinner (in all this heat!) and then 7 of us packed into a tiny 2 seater Austin 7 and went for a midnight swim. The following evening there was a dance in the YWCA – I walked in to see John Williams of the Signals, who came out with us and is Robin’s best friend. We had a tremendous chat. Lo and behold, 2 days later, I was informed there was someone to see me, and who else should it be but Robin, John and another man from the Signals! How nice it was to see them all again. That evening Robin and I went out to the French Club to dine, unfortunately it was my ‘Dogs’ and ‘Middle’ watches but we went shopping the next morning and had a hilarious time buying stockings for John Williams’ girl friend in England! On Saturday I was out with one of our DCO’s and his Air Force friends, dining and dancing. Sunday, yesterday, I went to see ‘Bitter Sweet’ on board a hospital ship here – I had already seen it, but I didn’t mind, except for the fact that their sound track was bad and it went a bit flat in parts! However, on the way home, the boat broke down and there we were, drifting downstream, but luckily King Farouk’s uncle’s yacht was at hand, and they lent us a boat to come home in. It was a perfect night, millions of stars and the wake of the boat was brilliant with phosphorescence.
…We are hoping to have a midnight picnic in the desert soon, Robin and John are going to arrange it. It all arose out of a remark of mine saying I liked tinned stew – they spend all their nights in the desert when they come over here as there is no accommodation – they take their little signals car – the Jeep – find a good spot and lie in their fleabags under the stars. It is so nice seeing them again – Robin and I hope to celebrate our birthday together as we are twins but for 3 days (I take seniority!)
…Well, as you can see, life out here isn’t at all bad, but we work hard too, and the conditions here really are rather appalling. Rachel has just come bursting in like a whirlwind, so there’s really not much chance of writing any more coherent paragraphs! (She is most hurt that I have said this and says she hopes you won’t think her a horrid girl!!) With lots and lots of love, and don’t worry, all is well and we are very happy.
Sheila
Mohammed Ali’s yacht which they ‘bumped into late one night when returning from the hospital ship, Maine’.
On 8 August most of the Wrens move back to Alexandria; on the return journey they stop to take turns having donkey rides. Sheila now finds herself living in a convent, ‘a charming place, and the eight officers have a sweet little house of their own – the convent is enormous, and tho’ not old, seems completely medieval’. The nuns wait on them at table and clean their rooms and Sheila feels:
… most awkward … At night the nuns lock up at about 9pm and everywhere is quiet and dark. We have 2 Sudanese watchmen, and they patrol about inside the grounds with fierce Alsatians to see nobody breaks in. My 1st night watch here I went on at 0400 and they had forgotten to shut them up, so of course up they rushed growling and barking ferociously – giving me a nasty fright. However, the men dashed up soon after and hauled them off!
Of Sheila’s friends, Mary remained behind in Ismailia, Diana Booth has scarlet fever and is being looked after in Haifa by Italian POWs –‘doesn’t it seem a funny war?’ – and Sybil Hoole is in in hospital with poisoned bites. So she is feeling a little bereft.
Never downhearted for long, she is soon telling her parents of her latest ‘craze’, mangoes: ‘they are MARVELLOUS – but terribly messy. You cut them round the middle and twist them open, then comes the tricky task of getting rid of the stone, which is enormous. In the end you finish up by being juice all over.’
The return to Alexandria also coincides with one of John’s periods of leave (he has been promoted to commander), and he surprises her by collecting some ‘glamorous undies’ she was having made. She had been ‘loath’ to contact him ‘in view of the myriads of letters he keeps writing me and his efforts to do every single thing he can to please me’. He has fallen deeply in love with her and is possessive and jealous of her other friendships. Nevertheless she is soon dating him again, going to the races, having tea at the Beau Rivage, lunches with him and his friends, and receiving notes and dozens of red roses. However the pattern of their future relationship is beginning to emerge: violent quarrels, which are then patched up and they become ‘good friends’ again.
On the return journey to Alexandria they take turns riding a donkey (left to right) Geoff Field, Atkins, Sheila, Putty.
John Pritty and Sheila having tea at the Beau Rivage. This was his favourite photograph of Sheila.
Finally she manages to send off a decent food parcel containing ‘tea, sultanas, marmalade, cream, tinned peaches and cigarettes, which I hope will reach you quickly. Sugar is no good I’m afraid – you can’t get it anywhere, not that there is any scarcity, but those people who control it here hoard it, so that the prices will go up and they make a profit! Dreadful, isn’t it?’
Otherwise life is good. Racing is ‘rather fun’:
6.9.42
… you sit in an enormous and very comfortable grand stand, surrounded by hundreds of terribly smart people, mostly French Levantine or Syrian, all beautifully and most colourfully dressed – the course is oval and you can see all round. It is at the Sporting Club and in the middle is a golf course, football pitches, tennis courts, swimming pool, club house etc. The paddock is oval also, with shady trees and very cool and when they parade the horses around it’s just like an American film of Kentucky or somewhere similar. You’d love it. I did. Of course the races are all prearranged and they dope the horses, but it is fun. They are mostly Arab ponies, small and nearly all grays.
Swimming is a great pastime and there are raucous beach parties with Tony, Putty, Mary, Rachel and Anne Halliday, one of her room-mates and also from Scotland. Sheila arranges one such party for her 22nd birthday, which she describes in a letter written the following day, as her ‘twin’ Robin is back on the front and unable to make their planned desert picnic:
Office of C in C Med. 10/9
My dear Ma – thank you so much for your cable for my birthday. As I think I told you, I had a wizard birthday party. I came off night watch at 0830 and Rachel and I went into town to buy the food, sandwiches, patties, buns, rolls, cakes, beer, coffee, ovaltine, etc and we had a marvellous feast. There were 10 of us. You should have seen Rachel and me with all the parcels. We had to have a taxi home, there were so many! We went down to the hut for lunch and bathed and played around most of the time. We took a lot of most funny snaps of which I’m having copies made and will send you. John couldn’t come because he was ill in bed with sandfly fever. That evening we went out with a friend of Bert’s who was down here on leave – it was fun to hear about old Bert again. On the following day I committed a breach of etiquette by visiting sick John in barracks, but everyone was terribly nice – all his friends are mad and rather amusing. The next day we quarrelled (!!!) but it was made up in due course, he having had, or still having jaundice. Lots of people have it out here.
It’s miles cooler here now and terribly pleasant. In the evenings it sometimes gets quite cold. You will be interested to hear that I had a nice letter from Jaap last week … I am feeling very sad because Rachel left us last Saturday. John will be going any day now, so I shall be very bereft. One of our Wren officers is being married tomorrow in Ras-el-Nin Chapel and we are all going to the wedding. Great are the preparations …
Oh, I sent off a tin of Turkish Delight to you last week. I thought it might be nice for Xmas. I have bought some silk for Rosemary and am wondering whether to send it home as it is or have it made up. If the latter, they won’t arrive for some time. Oh that reminds me, we have just been talking about scissors and I have bought you a small pair of nail scissors which I hope you will like. We are all dying to know what it is like at home. What is rationed – and so on – as although we see papers, they are all Gyppo ones and not quite the same. Things are coming to a pretty pass here – we can’t even get sugar at the NAAFI. So silly when there is really plenty. I haven’t seen or heard from old Mary Dugdale for days – weeks rather. Wonder what has happened to her? I’m getting my birthday snaps this week and will send them on. Have you had any of the others I’ve sent. Heaps of love
Sheila
Sheila’s 22nd birthday at Sidi Bishr beach (left to right) Mary Dugdale, Putty, Sheila, Geoff Field, Rachel Charlesworth, Tony, Ann Halliday, Lucien. This beach is mentioned by Evelyn Waugh in Sword of Honour.
At the end of September Sheila, Kay Way, Mary Dugdale – who has re-appeared from Ismailia – and Anne Halliday remove from the ‘peace and quiet of the convent’ to the Rue Rassafah, where they share a room and a history – they have all been at Methil at one time or another.
John is returning to the desert and she will ‘miss him, as it is so nice to know that you never need be bored, always having someone to do things with’. His parting gift to her is an Irish terrier puppy:
six weeks old and darling … not a bit the orthodox Irish terrier, but brown and white and so good I feel something awful will happen any moment! I took him on watch this afternoon and the first thing he did was to push his nose in an ink bottle full of red ink which was unfortunately on the deck and got us all red! Then he went to sleep. He belonged to a friend of John’s who is going to Malta … Everyone adores him, I’m afraid he’ll get terribly spoilt – but not if I can help it. He’s rather like this sketch. You would love him.
She calls him Paddy. She is heartbroken when, later on, John’s regiment who were house-training him take him to Cairo.
Sheila’s letter with sketch of Paddy.
In a letter on 10 October, she ruminates on the relationship with John and her other boyfriends:
John has returned to his regiment and, although we had a marvellous time together, I’m not sorry – at the moment anyway! He is quite miserable I gather from his letters. He is so nice, but quiet and serious – with not very much sense of humour. That’s bad for me, I think, as I love laughing and joking and mad things. Jaap and Paul were full of laughter and fun. I heard from the latter recently – a sea mail letter all the way from Canada, of course he is back in the UK or thereabouts now.
Riding becomes a serious hobby. Her friends, Eve and Clement Barber, have some horses, and she, Putty and Tony plan some outings with them. Sheila, ever ambitious and competitive, wants to take lessons and become proficient:
C in C Med 13/10/42
My dear Ma – Today I have had my first riding lesson and am very thrilled in consequence. I went out to Smouha where there is a Frenchman who has stables and who is a very good teacher. He learned from a Russian who taught the Tsars and he himself has taught the King of Egypt. Me and Mrs Barber were there, as arranged, and to begin with I was taught how to get on and off, then did exercises on the horse’s back and then (me on a leading rein) we all 4 of us went, via the road to Smouha race course. There we trotted (yes me too) and it was just grand. I didn’t find it a bit hard and got on very well. It’s much easier when you aren’t frightened. I am going to have lessons, and then I shall be able to ride the Barber’s horses. Unfortunately, they live rather a long way from here, but never mind!
Riding at Smouha; Kay Way and Sheila are far right of the photograph, with the French teacher M. Delrieux wearing the hat.
The Barbers are ‘charming people … very musical’, and great entertainers and it is through them that she meets Elizabeth Vegdi, her singing teacher, ‘a funny little woman, small and birdlike, and terribly nervous. She is German, but not a pro-axis I’m glad to say!’ She is to provide another great escape from the rigours of wartime duty and the sadness that accompanies the impending departure of Tony and Putty to Malta: ‘it will seem queer without them’, the absence of John, in Cairo, and Robin ‘in the desert’. This letter describes her first visit to Cairo, where she went in hope of finding John. It seems she can’t keep away from him, despite saying she is not stringing him along!
Office of C in C Mediterranean
19/10/42
My dear Ma –
…Well, I have had a very full week again. Starting with dinner out last Tuesday with Mary Henie, a man I knew in Ismailia and another man who used to be in a ship that called at Methil but whom I didn’t know in those days. Then, of course, I have been continuing my riding lessons and last Thursday I arranged to go after night duty. So off I went and was allowed to trot all by myself. We went around the race course, all great fun. I had then arranged to have lunch with Tony Frank, Ian Lepraik and his fiancé, all friends of John. Well, we did have a session, and didn’t finish lunch till a quarter to five! When I returned home I found an invitation from an awfully nice Naval Lieutenant asking me out to dinner that evening, I at first refused, but was persuaded into it and I did enjoy it, dancing, dinner and cabaret at the Metropolitan, a new place here.
The following day Tony Frank was going to Cairo by truck and asked me if I would like to go too. So I swapped 2 watches and went. It was an open 15 cwt truck. Cairo is four hours from here and we travelled through the Delta. Oh how filthy the Gyppos are, they live in mud huts and are the dirtiest people imaginable. We had a bit of a dust storm, so when we arrived certainly looked the worse for wear. However, it was getting dark so Tony took me straight to John’s mess, where we learned he was on an operation. The colonel was there and so invited us in for a drink, but horrors, they were all dressed up in mess kit, complete with spats, all ready to go and dance before the King. Imagine how awful we looked after our dirty ride. Luckily we soon managed to escape and I was introduced to Shepheards, the famous hotel there. The next morning Tony was going to take me to see the pyramids (we had seen them in the distance) but was unable to as he had to pack before being drafted elsewhere. So I set off on my own and ended up by visiting an information bureau where 2 A/Bs [Able Seamen] offered to take me to see the Blue Mosque. However, we ended up at the Citadel and visiting the mosque of Mohamed Ali – a beautiful, fairly modern place on top of a high hill fort like Edinburgh. They were so sweet to me, insisted on having taxis and paying for them themselves. They wouldn’t hear of me doing so. Eventually I met Tony for lunch, bade him farewell, and set out on my long journey back with a tough Scot to drive me, a commando. Alas, there was the strongest wind I’ve ever known – I could scarcely breathe. Twice it poured with rain and I was soaked to the skin and then we had a puncture. Luckily the Gyppo army turned up trumps and produced a jack, otherwise I don’t know what we would have done! And so I arrived home drenched, the colour of earth and shivering but happy! (I haven’t a cold either!) I then worked till 1am the next morning.
Today I have been riding again and hope to go out tonight with 2 local people, Putty and Tony (another one, who works with me) but the latter isn’t well so it may be cancelled.
Paddy, my dog, is improving in manners, but feels rather sorry for himself today as I gave him a strong dose of caster oil (good for worms) and it has given him a pain! Today it is quite cloudy, and as I said before, we’ve had a lot of rain. It is very early for it, they say. I have bought no winter clothes at all, but must really get down to it soon. They will always be useful when the war is over. I have had a nice pair of grey gabardine jodhpurs made which are really quite good. I do love riding and hope one day to become good (??). Am told I shall have to have 30 lessons before I can jump and then only about 6 inches, but we shall see!
I wonder if it is time for tea?? Must go in and see as I’m in the garden on account of the dogs inside!
Tons of Love
Sheila
Oh the flies - they are so tame!
❖❖❖
The Second Battle of El Alamein started on 27 October and ended on 11 November, Armistice Day. It also coincided with the beginning of Operation Torch on 8 November, when the US army began their advance eastwards from Casablanca and Oran, with the aim of joining up with the Eighth Army and routing the Axis forces. Alan Moorehead’s descriptions of the final push in North Africa are brilliantly recounted in The African Trilogy:
The Eighth Army had stalled the Germans after the First Battle and there had followed a period of stalemate, but General Montgomery, taking command of the Eighth Army in August 1942, knew that he had to retaliate before the Germans, who had vastly superior guns and tanks, were able to re-supply themselves from Italy. But decisive action by the Navy ensured that the Axis supply lines were not replenished, and the Eighth Army now had the US Sherman tanks for the first time and with these, together with superior intelligence work which fooled Rommel, Monty inflicted a great victory over the Axis forces. Their casualties were 2,349 killed, 5,486 wounded, and 30,121 prisoners, and the loss of 500 tanks. Montgomery’s casualties were 2,350 killed, 8,950 wounded, and 2,260 missing, as well as around 200 tanks.
It was to be the first major victory for the Allies since the war began in 1939 and provided a tremendous morale booster for everyone, civilians and services alike. Churchill summed it up thus: ‘This is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.’
John Pritty is back in Alexandria still in hot pursuit of Sheila, prior to joining his regiment in the desert for the battle, but her other friends have left: ‘There is only Geoff and I left, the 2 originals, and 2 new people who have joined us. Naturally, we are very busy just now (and a very good thing too) so have to keep our wits about us. Last night I worked every single minute of the night watch – I have slept this morning – a thing I haven’t done for ages. The news is most heartening, I am glad to say and we all hope that things will be cleared up out here quite soon.’
With all the activity in the Mediterranean a lot of mail has ‘gone down’ and she is worried about ‘two food parcels, 1 tin of Turkish Delight and a pair of scissors’ that she had only just sent. Sheila has received a lot of mail herself but is in sick bay and has mixed feelings: ‘It’s marvellous rest really as quite honestly we’ve been working so hard since we returned 3 months ago. I was quite worn out. Our watch has always been one short!!’
She takes the opportunity to write a long-overdue letter to her father:
Office of C in C Mediterranean
C/O CPO London
8/11/42
My dear Daddy –
Thank you very much indeed for part one of your birthday letter to me, and part one of your present, which has mighty delighted me. Part 2 hasn’t put in an appearance yet, but mails are so queer one never knows what to expect. I’m afraid this isn’t going to reach you in time for your birthday and may not even arrive by Christmas, but anyway, here’s all the best of wishes and luck.
You do make me laugh with 49 tomato plants! Why not 50, to make it even. I hope more have ripened off, otherwise I can see chutney will be indicated – not that that’s to be scorned at. How I love it! I do envy you your apples and pears, for we don’t get them here and you always want things you can’t have! I’ve no doubt you’d willingly be in my shoes and be having bananas, oranges, grapefruit, grapes, figs, dates etc. though, I’m ashamed to say my banana for dinner tonight almost choked me! and I couldn’t even look a date in the eye! They are so good, too!
Well, in spite of all your warnings, I haven’t found Alexandria an unsuitable spot to live in, and I very much liked Port Said! Granted Tewfik is an unpleasant enough spot, but a great number of Wrens lived there at the time of the evacuation, and very many of them liked it a lot. They all lived in what was once a transit camp for soldiers, all wired in – they called it the Aviary. Actually, they all had a very good time socially, as every unit for miles round used to invite them to parties, some of them quite a journey into the desert. Even now there are about 50 still living in Tewfik but they are installed in a house. All this while we were living in the YWCA in Ismailia, a simply charming spot and run by some delightful Scottish people. Of course, we had a wizard time, too, and I was awfully disappointed when I was told our section of the staff was returning to Alex, for a long time we were the only Wrens in Alex, and lived in the convent, which was really ratings’ quarters, but eventually almost the whole flock returned and we were cast out to Rue Rassafah, our old officers’ quarters.
This was a most unpopular move, but actually now we’re back again, we’re quite happy. I have my dog Paddy, and share a room with 3 great friends, so all is well. At the moment, I regret to say, I’m in sick bay, but it is a marvellous rest, and if we weren’t so busy I’d be completely happy. All this activity in the desert has livened our work up considerably and it doesn’t do to be short these days.
I’ve had to forego my riding lessons lately, as really I’ve had too much to do and been far too tired – but I certainly intend to carry on with the good work. It is all such fun – we go on one of the racecourses here – with a golf course in the middle and it is all so green you can easily imagine you are at home. I shan’t be happy till I can jump and it will take 30 lessons I’m told.
We are all very thrilled to hear about the desert news, though even tho’ we are at the Mursa Matruh it doesn’t mean we’ve driven the Germans out completely. However, since a great deal of our work is built up around these things you can guess it is very exciting for us. I am very annoyed at being away from the office at such a time (I’m in sick bay not very ill with a streptococci bug in my throat!) Have told you this twice owing to lapse!
We are still in whites, tho’ we anticipate changing to blues any moment now. The weather here, is, as you probably know, very mild, tho’ I hear wild tales of terrible cold and everyone shivering. Never does the temperature reach freezing, that’s one thing certain, so I can’t imagine what everyone is so worried about! They do have snow in Syria, but as the Navy never gets leave on Med station, I can’t think that we shall ever get proof of this fact! Pity, because I should love to go there – mountains, green trees and grass, waterfalls and beautiful scenery, so I’m told. Not so here, the Delta reminds me of the Fens, all very flat and rather dull. Actually our life here is extremely pleasant and again I smile when I read letters from home full of imaginations as to how unpleasant our surroundings are!
…We have plenty of food and safragis to wait on us, plenty of friends and countless opportunities of going out, helping in canteens, sport to play, tennis, hockey, swimming – horses to ride, sailing, in fact everything anyone can want for, except beautiful country to live in – so I don’t think we are too badly off, do you? We all wonder frightfully what it is like at home, but letters seem to be most reassuring, tho’ of course we never know whether it is just a gallant front put up for our benefit.
Good heavens, 20 to 10 and me meant to be an invalid (I feel fighting fit except for the rotten throat, actually!) So no more.
With very much love to you and mama,
Sheila
And to her mother, also on 8 November, she says :
It makes me laugh when you say in your letters what hardships you think we are going through. Admittedly I think we’d all rather be in UK, but life out here is just a picnic – we live in comfortable houses, have tons to eat, can buy clothes and food without coupons (provided you have the money). In fact it all boils down to the fact that you can do anything. I feel sorry for the troops, because they don’t get paid so much as we do, and there aren’t nearly enough girls to go round, not English ones anyway, and beer is very dear here …
The desert news is excellent isn’t it? I am rather annoyed I am stuck away here at such an interesting time because our work is formed to a very great extent from these activities. I hope we shall clear up Africa this time, and can then turn our attention to other fields.
Yes I did hear from Jaap – most queer, he certainly had written before, but nothing had reached me and one had even been returned to him! I’ve heard quite a lot from Paul, one even from Canada, but nothing much lately.
John is having a birthday party this week, but I don’t know whether I shall be up for it. Maybe they will put it off! I feel fine, except for this foul throat – I sound awfully tonsilly when I speak! I am handing Paddy over to John for complete house training, as he hasn’t quite got the knack yet.
With heaps of love,
Sheila.
Once back at work she concentrates on organising the Wrens’ social life. A hockey match between John’s regiments and the convent turns out to be embarrassing for her, following one of their famous ‘disagreements’, for they had decided ‘not to see one another and there he was, large as life on the pitch, but however, we’ve managed to patch things up and all appears to be settled once more.’ It didn’t last long, however, as John is posted back to Cairo, with appendicitis ‘all very miserable’. They had two ‘tremendous bust-ups’ before he left but managed to make it up and become ‘firm friends’ once more.
Even more annoying is a change on the work front:
… perhaps the most revolutionary that there will be no more Wren head watches, (a little blow for us, who have been here longer than many of the men and have seen more months of service as an officer – even cyphered longer!) However, we have to accept this, hard tho’ is may seem – I have been in the office now longer than any Wren tho’ of course haven’t the long seniority several of them have. We have about six new O.T.C. Wrens with us – a good thing as they are all most conscientious and work harder than most men.
This is the first sign of dissatisfaction since Sheila has been in Egypt and is the beginning of an unsettled period.
Of her friends, Sybil Hoole has got engaged:
… we are all thrilled, as she has been rather unhappy here … Kay is leaving us for a more Northern place – lucky girl, but it is not far away. As a matter of fact I’d like to be there myself, with the kind of boats I’m interested in, and quite near dear old Bert, whom I haven’t seen for ages. Diana Booth, (the one who travelled out with me and who married the padre) is back here recovering from a septic appendicitis. She is very week, poor dear. We sorted out her goods yesterday and she is now on a fortnight’s sick leave.
Anne Halliday has left for Cairo, so only Mary Dugdale and Sheila remain.
And so the year draws to a close with another Alexandrian Christmas, which seems to have been the greatest of fun:
In bed 28/12
My dear Mama – First of all, I hope you had a very good Xmas – if half as enjoyable as mine, it would have been grand! Was Rosemary at home? Well, as space is short, I’ll tell you what I did now. We began the week by carol singing – a huge party of us with big lanterns and a lorry. We started off in RN Barracks, and then proceeded to the A.O.C.’s house, where we were warmly received. After that we passed on to a nearby hotel, and from there to the C in C’s house, where we were all invited in, and entertained with drinks. A very exalted party with admirals galore! From there we drove on to the FSO’s house, and after singing outside, were all invited in to drink a hot punch! It was all such fun, most picturesque with all the lanterns, but most unfortunately, I had a bad cold and was not allowed to sing, so I just had to be content with collecting. We made £22 – not bad! Another drawback was that I had to go on night duty afterwards, but luckily we weren’t busy.
There were no more festivities for me till Thursday, when Ann Cartwright (one of the recently made cadets) and I went out to a Christmas party given by Eve Barber. It was such fun, other guests were the Delrieux family (who took us riding) and a very amusing man called Sidney, a gunner, and of course Ivan, their Hungarian friend who lives with them. We played mad games, and laughed and laughed, ate the most enormous buffet supper and greeted in Xmas with Champagne! It was poor Ann who had to go on night duty this time! Then on Xmas Day, Ann, Mary Henie and I all went to the Scottish Church. Again I wasn’t able to sing! I worked all the afternoon, and when I returned found a big tea party in full swing in the quarters, with a lot of young N.O.s from the various ships that were in. Audrey Dean (a nice girl on my watch) and I tucked into an enormous tea and then I had to run away and change, as 10 of us were going in a big party of 20 to the Union Club, where there was a dance. The male members of the party were of a Scottish regiment (not John’s) and were great fun. We ate the most tremendous dinner, turkey, plum pudding, flaming on the plate, fish, asparagus, mince pies etc. washed down by sherry and champagne. We had a room of our own and the most glorious sheaf of red roses on the table! We danced and danced, me with a charming man from St Andrews whom I had met previously at a cocktail party held by the same regiment. Again it was me to go on night watch and I had to leave at 12 o’clock – quite Cinderella like, but I didn’t lose my shoe! Night watch was awful – luckily I was able to crack it down. On Boxing Day I promised to do an extra watch for Mary Henie, and have regretted it ever since, as I’ve been so terribly tired; my second extra watch this week, but all my own fault! However yesterday, when I came off duty at 1300, I went out to the Barbers again, Ann Cartwright too, for lunch and riding. We made up a big party and went to the school. Eve and Clement, Ann and I, Sydney and my St. Andrews friend, whose name is Valentine. Oh it was tremendous fun. Ann, who is an excellent rider, was given monsieur’s own horse, a tremendous honour. I was given a good little gray, but jiminy, he could go! I’ll continue on another card and hope they both arrive together.
Lots of love pro tem.
Sheila
Also in bed. 29/12
Dear Ma – (continued) We were all turning round onto the sand track, when suddenly my horse, Ibn el Ansi, decided to dash ahead, and my goodness there was nothing stopping him! It was a marvellous feeling to be tearing along in from of all the others, and I didn’t feel a bit like falling off! After we had finished riding, Ivan took us to see his mare, Belle Aurore, which first he rode, and then Ann. She really is a beautiful beast, and needs no kicking or hard work at all. Then to my great surprise and joy, Ivan asked me if I would like to ride her! Of course, when I was up, I could tell immediately how different she was from the riding school ones, responsive to every slight touch and movement. I trotted and cantered but alas, pride did come before the fall, because while cantering a corner of the paddock, I didn’t pull her round enough. We swerved and I slid to the ground with a tremendous bang. Neatly landing on my situpon! Of course, it completely served me right, and I had no business to be riding such a good horse, but the temptation was far too near! Anyway, there are no ill effects today, spare a sore backside and scraped elbow.
Today I am spending the morning in bed, going for a singing lesson and tea with Mme Vegdi, and then on to a cocktail party this evening. On Thursday I am lunching with Mrs Goldie [a family friend] and playing in a hockey match afterwards, and on Friday I go on leave to Cairo!
Yes, we have all been given three days leave, not very generous, but leave! John will be out of hospital and we will explore Cairo together. Then he will return to Alex with me, for the rest of his time. I am very much looking forward to seeing Ann Halliday who has now got a job there, and who likes it tremendously. I had such a nice letter from her today … I miss her very much, but have Mary Dugdale here to keep me company. Much as I like being in Alex, and in spite of the many interests and friends I have, I do feel that as regards my job, I need a change. I have been here longer than any Wren, and of course, get no consideration for any work I may do or have done. I am in no better a position than I was when I arrived and am on equal par with all the new cadets and raw recruits we have to train. I feel it is not good enough - but I don’t get on at all with the P.C.O. [Principal Cypher Officer] and he makes good use of a willing horse! I don’t want to leave all my friends, of which there are many, or my singing or riding, but I must move soon, where to, I can’t imagine. Maybe it would have been better for me to have gone to Cairo, too. We shall see!
I don’t know what’s happened to our mail, but I’ve had no letter from you since 29/11. Granted I’ve had a few P.C.’s and airgraphs, but they aren’t the same. I wonder how you have been faring? I have been thinking about you all and what you have been doing and wishing I could send you some of our food. I am heartily sick of tangerines and oranges and grapefruit. Doesn’t it seem awful when you can’t buy them?
No more now. Tons of love and many happy new years to you both.
Sheila
The unresolved matters of 1942 – her affair with John Pritty and her discontent with her status and role in Alexandria – are to dominate events in 1943.
6 Justine, in The Alexandria Quartet (Faber & Faber, 2012 edition)
7 Aunt Rose’s husband in Peterborough; they were childless but he adored children. He had another family with the housemaid!