MAUREEN BURNS - SERVICE LIFE

this story has been added by a CSV volunteer at BBc Radio Bristol on behalf of Maureen Burns

Morning of 3rd Sept 1939, my mother came in from the garden saying that a neighbour had told her war with Germany had been declared.
I was indignant and said that he shouldn’t spread rumours — shortly afterwards the air-raid siren started up and I was under the kitchen table with our dog!

I worked for an insurance company in the city and with forethought they’d leased a large country house in a village near Reigate. We worked in Nissan huts and when the spitfires returned from a ‘sortie’, we’d rush out and wave to them and they would do a ‘Victory Roll’
We had a swear box for a spitfire fund.

In November 1942, I informed our chairman I no longer wished to be deferred and I volunteered for the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. Received ‘calling up’ papers on Boxing Day and proceeded as instructed to Gloucester, on the 4th January, to be greeted by snow. We were shown to large Nissan huts — straw mattresses and pillow — it was all a bit of a shock!
After being kitted out we (group of us) set out for Morecombe for ‘square bashing’ — i.e. learning to march etc, which I quite enjoyed except for sliding on ice and having to do PT in a draughty building if it was wet, having discarded skirt and jacket and rolled down wet stockings. Good days, we did PT on the beach, singing “I’ll be with you in apple blossom time” After the passing out parade, we were given our postings, mine was to Andover — and what a shock that was — I’m sure it wouldn’t be accepted today…we young girls were billeted in condemned married quarters: very cold no heating or hot water. Our antiquated bathroom — to heat the water we were supposed to light a fire under a large concrete ball which we’d filled with water from the tap; a tap at the bottom. I don’t think we ever managed it; about 10 of us had to queue to wash in the kitchen sink, and to use the toilet.

There was a bath hut in a field dirty baths, no plugs, and tepid water. Food was inedible; I seemed to live on Salvation Army buns! To add insult to injury, before reporting for work in the orderly room, I was instructed to find the wherewithal to light a fire in the officer’s office and to clean the windows, paint work etc. I shortly found out about compassionate postings and requested a posting nearer London so that I could go home to North London on ‘days off’ as my two brothers were overseas and mother was coping alone with my grandfather who’d had a severe stroke.

I was posted to HQ 70 Group in Farnborough, Hants. It was like being in a different service. Requisitioned house, large kitchen with kettle, cocoa etc. I had a hot water bottle and used the still warm water to wash in the mornings. We were issued with bicycles (I had mine sent from home) to save time as it was a long way to the mess of RAF Farnborough. My first time in there I was delighted to see jugs of milk and took a swig — it was goats milk — urgh!

Farnborough was an experimental station and we saw some very odd looking planes. Very hush hush. I was despondent when my ‘boyfriend’ was killed in Sicily and as soon as possible my friend ‘Dickie’ and I volunteered for overseas. We were stuck in West Kirby, held up because of ‘D’ Day and eventually sailed on 11th June 1944. We found ourselves sewing on ‘tapes’ for the men, on to their tropical kit. Two excitements - our barrage balloon broke loose and had to be shot down and a submarine scare in the Med — no one panicked — we just proceeded as per boat drill. We eventually arrived at Port Said and thence by train to Cairo … It was a mystery to us why the train stopped now and then, when all we could see was desert and in no time it was surrounded by youngsters begging for cigarettes and money.

Arriving at Cairo we were ushered on to trucks and taken to a camp at Almaza, before receiving our postings. Mine was to MPO (ME) Heliopolis, provisioning of aircraft spares. We were in tents in the desert (concrete base, three steps down, plus 2-3 foot wall, over which went the canvas. At least the ablutions huts had both showers and bath plus hot water. We once again worked in Nissan huts, but these were approx a mile through the sand and on to a concrete road. Up at 05.30, Breakfast on parade then march to offices. I eventually became CO’s clerk, which meant my own office adjacent to the CO’s. In April 1945 I married a Warrant Officer in charge of one of the sections in the Lady Chapel of Cairo Cathedral. I’m told there is a block of flats there now on that site. We were then able to live off camp and shared a flat with Joyce and her husband ‘Mac’ we still phone, write and meet, when possible.
We went on honeymoon in Alexandria. The fellow who brought us early morning tea told us “War is ended” - we looked at each other and said “Oh good!”
We were sorry to have missed the celebrations on camp where they lined up vehicles with headlights on and danced on the sacred parade square!
Apart from long working hours, we had an interesting time out there, visiting the pyramids, museums etc, plus service clubs and sport. I played hockey on hard sand — a fast game. One time a sand storm blew up and we had to abandon the match when we couldn’t see the goal posts!
We finally sailed for home in June I think, 1946, on a supposedly married families ship, SS Orbita, to find it full of troops of different nationalities, going to England for the Victory Parade. Our husbands were down in the hold, whilst wives were in dormitories sleeping on a strip of canvas in three tier-bunks. There were a few civilian wives, various nationalities; one had to be stopped from lighting her Primus stove! We eventually docked in Liverpool and were taken to a RAF base to be de mobbed. My in-laws lived near Birmingham so I met up there with my husband. My father-in-law’s greeting was “if you wipe that muck off your face I’ll give you a kiss!” charming! He’d been a widower for many years.
Adjusting to civilian life, with the shortages and rationing was very difficult for everyone. My husband had been in the RAF for twelve years so had no job to return to; no home; and eventually we wore out our welcome at my parents. We moved from temporary rooms eight times during which I fell pregnant. However after 3 difficult years, we finally settled down in Teddington, and had nearly 30 years of happy marriage before my husband died. On advice, because of a predicted social life in Egypt, I’d taken cotton dresses and a long white lace dress this was worn eight times as a wedding dress — my wedding being the last time! I wonder how many of these marriages lasted as ours did - I’m still in touch with a few — all widows now.

Apart from Andover I enjoyed my WAAF life and if I hadn’t married I would have signed on. All the discipline, learning to mix with all types of people has stood me in good stead. I belong to the local WAAF association and made more good friends. A great pity ‘our breed’ is dieing out. Discipline would be good for some of today’s wayward youngsters

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