GI Brides: The wartime girls who crossed the Atlantic for love. Duncan Barrett

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СКАЧАТЬ they were led to the corrugated-iron Nissen huts where they were to sleep, eleven to a hut. Each girl had a little wooden bed frame on which there were three individual squares of mattress, one next to the other. The girls soon found that these thin squares had an annoying tendency to move if they turned over in the night, throwing out the arrangement and giving them sore hips. Even more troubling was the cold – it was February, and in Scotland that meant sub-zero temperatures in the metal hut.

      The next morning, the girls were woken at 5 a.m. as the sergeant flung open the door, letting in the bracing Scottish air, and told them to be ready in ten minutes to be issued with their uniforms. Rae remembered she was expected to report for her haircut, and felt as angry as she had the night before. However much she wanted to fight the Germans, she wasn’t going to put up with this. She opened her suitcase and began to pack.

      When the other girls were gone, the sergeant came looking for her. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.

      ‘I’m leaving.’

      ‘I’ve got news for you, lassie,’ her superior replied. ‘You’ve accepted the King’s shilling, so you’re not going anywhere.’

      Rae realised there was nothing she could do. Gritting her teeth, she put the suitcase away and followed the sergeant into one of the brick huts. There, she sat in angry silence as her hair was lopped off and fell to the floor.

      Next, the recruits were given their uniforms: a tunic jacket, two skirts, three shirts and a tie, along with a pair of clumpy lace-up shoes and several enormous pairs of bloomers, which were known unofficially as ‘passion killers’.

      Once the girls were kitted out, they were led into the parade ground for their first drill practice. This time, no giggling or stumbling about was tolerated, as they circuited the ground over and over again, bellowed at by the sergeant, until their feet fell in perfect rhythm.

      After a good half-hour, the girls felt ready for a break, but instead they had to set off into the Scottish countryside to wear in their new shoes with a five-mile march. Rae could feel blisters forming, but there was no let-up as the sergeant shouted, ‘Left! Right! Left! Right!’

      By the time they returned to the barracks, the young women were exhausted and miserable, and many of them were close to tears. They now greeted the sight of the spartan Nissen huts with relief, and once inside, gingerly peeled the socks off their blistered feet to bathe them. But before long, they could hear the sergeant’s shrill voice again. ‘Everybody out!’ she shouted. ‘Report to parade ground for drill practice!’

      It was a routine that grew crushingly familiar as the days and weeks at the barracks wore on, and Rae, like her fellow recruits, learned that her life was no longer her own, but the Army’s. They were told when to march, when to salute, when to eat and sleep and shower. They were forced to run through the Scottish hills in the driving rain, to negotiate a punishing and muddy assault course, to iron their shirts and polish their buttons.

      Rae grew more interested, however, once their combat training began. The girls mastered the basics of unarmed combat, learning how to break a hold and throw an enemy onto the floor. They learned how to shoot a rifle, and how to thrust and lunge at the enemy with a bayonet. They practised getting wounded comrades onto stretchers, and mastered first aid. These unladylike tasks prompted much giggling from some of the girls, but Rae was pleased that she was finally learning to become a fighter. ‘Good, Brewer,’ the sergeant shouted, seeing her enthusiastic attempts to spear an imaginary German.

      After a few weeks of training, Rae realised she was beginning to enjoy herself, despite the rigorous discipline. The fresh air and physical exertion suited her, and she had even come to take pride in making her uniform look perfect for the daily inspection, keeping her shirts and tunic pressed by laying them under her mattress every night, and polishing her buttons and shoes until they gleamed.

      One day, on the assault course, she was racing as fast as she could when she came up to a rope hung over a ditch. Without slowing down to judge the distance she leaped for it and missed, falling onto the ground below. Her whole weight came down on her left ankle, and she cried out in pain as she felt the joint twist.

      Rae was helped to the barracks nurse, who iced the ankle and wrapped it in a tight bandage. ‘Keep it elevated,’ the woman told her. ‘You’ll have to rest up for a couple of weeks.’

      While some might have been glad of the rest, Rae was frustrated at not being able to join the others. Once her injury was healed, however, there was even worse news.

      ‘You’ll have to join the next intake,’ her sergeant told her. ‘You can resume your training – from the beginning.’

      Rae watched helplessly as the rest of the girls left Glencorse Barracks without her. She joined the new group of fresh-faced recruits and started the endless process of drill practice all over again.

      After completing their training in Scotland, the girls were posted around the country. Rae was sent to Derby to the Royal Army Ordnance Corps, who were responsible for the supply and maintenance of vehicles and weapons. She couldn’t believe it – after all those weeks of army training, she was confined to a clerical role, processing orders.

      In Derby, the ATS girls were billeted in a Victorian orphanage, and it was still as grotty and depressing as it had been when its previous inhabitants were there. The work was dull, involving hour upon hour spent memorising the code numbers that corresponded to every piece of equipment and every part from nuts and bolts upwards. The tedious rote-learning was unbearable for Rae, who desperately wanted to be doing something. Many of the other girls felt the same, and they all tried to put in for transfers.

      Luckily, after three weeks, Rae got a call to say she was being sent to Chelmsford, Essex, as part of a bold new experiment: training women in the manly art of welding. Just twelve ATS girls had been chosen from across the whole country, and Rae was among their number thanks to her experience working as a drilling operator back in London. Finally, she would be doing something practical for the war effort.

      The girls were sent to technical college to learn their new craft. The teacher had never taught women before and it was clear he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the new group of students. He greeted them awkwardly, but was soon demonstrating how to weld two sheets of aluminium together, holding the flame to a welding rod until it melted into the joint between them, sparks flying off in all directions. Rae was transfixed. This was worlds away from the boring codes she had been learning, and she couldn’t wait to get her hands on one of the torches.

      Soon he showed each girl to a bench, on which sat a pair of plates to be welded, along with a welding rod. He distributed gloves and safety goggles and showed them how to hook up their torches to the cylinders that stood on little trolleys behind them. ‘All right, you can light your torches now,’ he told them.

      Rae was thrilled when the torch came alive in her hand and she felt the powerful heat of the blue flame. She took her rod and gently touched the flame to it, watching it sizzle and spark and the molten metal drip gently onto the plate below. It was extremely satisfying to see the metal transform under her influence.

      At the end of the eight-week training period all but two of the candidates passed, including Rae, who had proved an excellent welder even with her bad eye. Now came their real test: being sent off to depots around the country to ply their new trade among their male counterparts.

      Rae was sent to a workshop in Mansfield, a town about fifteen miles north of Nottingham, where she was the only female welder. She couldn’t wait to put her training to use, and before long she found her skills were in demand all over the workshop.

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