Cpl. Phyllis Rosenberg
Womens Auxiliary Air Force
My First Fourteen Days in the W.A.A.F. (Innsworth, Glos) by Phyllis Rosenberg. (dob 8.3.23)
Monday, 2nd of June 1941 Am feeling no effects at all from inoculation. We move from Reception Wing to Training Wing this morning. Hut No. 404. Much nicer. Little mats by beds. Nearly everyone has uniform now. Our squad is beginning to look something. First time on parade ground. Very thrilling. Feet make different sounds as they touch asphalt. R.A.F. Sergeant drilled us. Terribly powerful shout. Reflect that men shouting orders at you is all right. Rather inspiring. But women – NO! Most unfeminine and undignified. Sometimes orders from sergeant drowned by aeroplanes flying over. Learned to salute, learned to march properly and right-dress etc. Hard work but fun. Fairly wet on reaching technical hut for lectures. Were given a welcoming address by W.A.A.F. officer. Followed by lecture by another officer on “History of the R.A.F. and W.A.A.F.” Very interesting. Then lecture on “Hygiene” by woman doctor. Elementary but absorbing. Lunch! Endless queue. Very good meal eventually. More lectures after lunch. “Gas”, “Economy and Waste” and “General Appearance”. (We are not to wear nail varnish, bright lipstick or have our hair touching our collars. Remove cap like a man when entering building. Never remove tunic without special permission. Button undone considered “undressed”) Dead tired at end of day. Mimi reacting badly already. Others seem undemonstrative, but cheerful. Thankful for bed.
Tuesday, June 3 More drill. Tantalising moment – when we marched over threepenny bit lying in roadway. Could see it coming towards me with the puddles of rain as we marched and watched it disappear under my feet. A ripple of amused disappointment went through the parade as we left it behind. More lectures. “Services Etiquette”, “Living Accommodation on Stations”. “Ranks in the Services”. P.T. (wore issue knickers – known as blackouts). Romped round enormous drill hall, getting very dusty. Played simple relay games and got very puffed. R.A.F. do technical training on this depot. Few aeroplanes lined up. Our lecture huts are in the same block. Only emotion left in me right now is heartfelt wish that girl in front would decide which is her left foot and start off on it! More lectures after lunch. "First Aid”, “Gas”. “Crime and Punishment” (only it wasn't called that). Saluted warrant officer by mistake. He smiled.
Wednesday, June 4 Marlow is varnishing Robinson's nails with varnish borrowed from Mcdermot. Macdermot is cleaning her shoes with brush borrowed from Standing. Standing is in the wash-house washing shirts and collars belonging to Davies and Hurbridge. Davies and Hurbridge have gone to fetch post for our hut. Samson is cleaning Harding's floor-space because Harding is feeling like 2d all in halfpennies on account of her inoculation. I find myself helping Donkin with marking her kit- but then I am wearing Donkin-lent collar stud. And that's the way it goes here. Can't imagine this sort of atmosphere in upper reaches of Kensington or where-else. You don't meet it often – except perhaps on the stage. Can see it will endear me to Service.
Thursday, June 5 Have been here a week today. Letters from home are of paramount importance. Parcels are tremendous thrill. Had letter from younger sister, who is radio operator in W.A.A.F. Said training is nasty part and not to worry because once you get on your station you have wonderful time. Read letter to hut. Everybody pleased to hear it. When I remember how some of these girls arrived here – excitable, waving their arms about, dashing everywhere, talking like anything – I marvel at the change. It isn't that they've lost their good humour. Not that at all. Just that they've caught (probably from the officers who lecture us) a sort of integrity. An economy of words. An economy of movement. Maxim now is: Never shout when you can talk – never talk unless you must. Jolly good thing! Probably accounts for the security-minded W.A.A.F. that we hear so much about. The ones that have finally exploded fact that women can't hold their tongues – can't keep secrets. Rubbish.
Friday. June 6 Pay parade. Long business. Said my number, saluted smartly and was so surprised at getting 10d from pay officer that I turned wrong way and nearly fell over! Hitch-hiked into Cheltenham in evening. Sat on top-most barrel of beer on Watney's lorry. Nice way of travelling! Saluted right and left in streets. Quite enjoyed it. Funny how I hate to hear women shout orders. Men should shout. Men should have loud voices and muscles. But not women. Women should be gentle and dignified. It is unfeminine to scream “By the left – QUICK MARCH, and if they don't scream it, it's just ineffectual and hopeless – which is worse, of course. Wonder is there a way out of this.
Saturday, June 7 The sun came out! Everyone felt better. Lovely parade, with aeroplanes and butterflies diving over the parade ground. Mock gas attack. Awful. Equipment was stifling. Sat in trench for HOURS listening to wheezing and squeaking of gas-masks. More lectures. Long one on “Topical Geography and Politics” (think that's what it was called). Given by intelligent W.A.A.F. officer of high rank. All officers here who lecture are the nicest possible. Reflect that it can't be much fun being an officer or N.C.O. on a depot like this. You never have time to get to know anybody before they are whisked away. An endless and thankless job I should think.
Sunday. June 8 Lovely, restful day. Most girls put up their aching feet and slept. My feet don't seem to be affected. Bathe them every night in surgical spirit. They are getting as tough as iron girders. Went to Cheltenham again. Am lucky with passes. Odd hut numbers go out on even days. Have managed to get two Sundays. Reflect how quickly am falling into Service swim. Salute naturally now. Stand to attention when speaking to N.C.O. Am very frightened of N.C.O.s. Say “Ma'am” and “Sir” to officers as if I'd done it all my life. Have already lost one glove and one button-stick. Am told that if I get new ones they will be paid for out of my “credits”. “Credits” seem to be extra money you get tacked on to pay – allowances, etc. Will look forward to that.
Monday. June 9 Had photographs taken for identity card. Stood in slow drizzle of rain clutching numbered card, while little man dived under traditional black velvet hood. Don't dare imagine result.
Tuesday. June 10 Drill. Lectures. Pink-faced airmen burst into lecture hut by mistake right in middle of very anatomical lecture given by medical officer. Camp cinema at night. Social hub of camp. Run by Padre. Only place where WA.A.F. and R.A.F. are allowed to mix. Saw “Moscow Nights”. A good many years old.
Wednesday, June 11 Usual routine. Got identity photo. Gosh! I look very angry. Evening great fun. Organised concert in N.A.A.F.I. Great deal of “rookie” talent. Strange, tall, untidy flight sergeant (W.A.A.F.) played the fool and the drums very well indeed.
Thursday, June 12 Last day of routine drill, lectures and P.T. etc. Had fire drill demonstration. Lanky flight sergeant gave terribly funny demonstration of how NOT to fight a fire. Posting-out parade tomorrow. Tremendous tension. Scare now is one might not get posted straight away on account of sometimes there is no vacancy for little while for trainees in some trades. Girls get held up this way sometimes and become “runners”. Means you do odd jobs until the training course is ready for you. No fun at all. Dance organised in N.A.A.F.I. for airwomen who are being posted. Airmen invited. Lots of heat, smoke and lemonade.
Friday, June 13 Ominous date! Last day of all. Rehearsal of posting-out parade. And march past. Hundreds of us. I am “right marker” in No. 1 Squad, No. 1 Flight. Don't know how that happened. Something to do with me being tall, I think. Impressive anyway. Hundreds of us. Had thorough testing in all lecture subjects. Sort of exam. Were divided into teams and scored on points. We lost. Parade after tea with C.O. taking the salute at the march past. Most thrilling. Buttons glistening in sun. Never would have thought they could make us look so smart. Marched off to technical hut to hear our “postings”. Frightening experience. Hundreds of names read out in deathly silence by W.A.A.F. officers. Got terribly nervous listening for mine. Terribly hush in that huge hut. Mimi goes to Newcastle. Poor Mimi! She is now a triumph of self-possession and resignation. My name at last!. Didn't recognise it at first. It was called again. Said “Oh! Me? Sorry Ma'am!” Jumped up and fell over!
Mum was posted to the Intelligence Section at H/Q No.2 Group Bomber Command at Castle Hill House, Huntingdon 1942: Promoted to Corporal Clerk G.D. (Maps). 1943: Moved with Group 2 to Bylaugh Hall nr Dereham, Norfolk End of 1943 moved again to Mongewall Park, Wallingford, Berks 2 Group Bomber Command now became part of 8 Group (PFF) Tactical Air Force. 1944: Posted to Holme-on-Spalding Moor, Yorkshire, Intelligence Section Attended briefings and de-briefings Issued Target Maps and Escape Aids to Halifax crews. 11.44 Posted to R.A.F. Burn, Yorks. Disbanded. 1945: Posted to R.A.F. Lissett, Yorks. Disbanded. Demobbed 26th of May 1946.
