The Mask

On leaving school, I entered in the Civil Service in the Ministry of Labour and in those days, we had to go where we were sent. During the war, I was stationed at Wisbech in Cambridgeshire as Senior Woman Officer. The Women’s section was ‘out-housed’ in a church hall with a tin roof. One day, an order arrived asking for fifteen, part time Firewomen volunteers. I said to the girls on the staff,
“Let’s volunteer. I’m sure we’d feel much safer in a Fire Station than in the Church Hall.” They chose twelve of us and because I was the Senior Woman Officer, I had to wear a red stripe on my uniform.
We were then stationed in East Anglia where we took our turns at night duties. Of course, when we weren’t on duty, we were still on call if the siren went. Being situated in this part of the country, you can imagine this happened quite often.
I was getting ready for bed, one night as the siren sounded and due to the fact that I had, had a hectic day in the office, I didn’t put on my uniform. I just lifted my helmet and gas mask and made for the Fire Station. There was a Jerry plane, captured in the searchlights, but I just kept on running. The Wardens repeatedly shouted for me to stop and take cover. I arrived at the station breathless, and one of the fireman said to me.
“What’s wrong Janet? That plane couldn’t have possibly dropped anything on you.”
I was then greeted with howls of laughter as I answered,

“Plane? I’m not scared of any plane, I’m scared of the dark.”

Janet MacHardy.
Glasgow.

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