Translating messages at the BBC

I was 15 when the war broke out. I left school the following year, learnt shorthand and typing and then got a job with the BBC working in Langham — opposite Broadcasting House — as a secretary in the press department.

I remember I would often be asked to stay late to help translate messages that came in from the boys at war in the Far East. There would be a whole lot of wax cylinders and we had to get the speed right to hear the message. We would listen to the message, type it up and send the message to the boys’ families.

The messages had been recorded by the reporters who were out in the field with them. I remember hearing that one young man had fainted before he had managed to give his message because he was so excited.

The messages were pretty mundane. They couldn’t say very much in their message; they couldn’t say where they were or describe what they’d been through. Messages said things like “I’m longing for the next time I get some leave”; “Thinking of you lots”; “Thank you for your parcel” or “I hope you had a good birthday”.

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