Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2 Fenella Miller (best books for 8th graders txt) 📖

school it was going to be easier for her to adapt to the new environment than for those who were away from home for the first time.

They were escorted to the canteen and issued with a small canvas bag with a knife, fork and spoon inside. These were referred to as irons and had to be brought to all meals. The food was no worse than she’d expected and she wolfed it down. They were served a steaming mug of cocoa, at least she thought that was what it was, and then marched back to the barracks. There’d been no sign of Iris and nobody she spoke to knew anything about her whereabouts.

*

When they were woken the next morning by a jolly corporal, Ellie was so cold she thought she wouldn’t be able to get dressed. The stove had burned out during the night and even if they were allowed to, there wasn’t the wherewithal to get it going again.

Her teeth were chattering by the time she’d had a perfunctory wash – no hot water – and returned to the dormitory. The other girls were in no better shape and the cheerful mood of the previous night had vanished. No one chatted, they all did as instructed and gathered miserably at the main doors waiting to be escorted to the canteen for breakfast.

She was issued with a number and a uniform. They returned briefly to the icy barracks to change from their civilian clothes. Ellie, like her fellow recruits, became a second-class aircraft woman – or ACW2. They had been instructed to parcel up their clothes in the brown paper provided. They then had to address them and leave them on the table outside the barracks.

It was now clear why they only needed two hooks and a small locker for their belongings. She was relieved to be escorted to a recreation area where they were told to remain until sent for.

‘I think we all look very smart in our uniforms, don’t you?’ Daisy asked.

‘At least they’re lovely and warm. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life when I was asked if I wanted to wear my own knickers,’ one of the girls said.

‘I’m wearing both,’ Ellie said with a laugh. ‘I wish we could wear trousers like the RAF. I’m not used to wearing skirts all the time.’

‘I wish I knew what’s happened to Iris. Surely someone knows where she is and if she’s all right?’ Daisy said to a chorus of agreement.

‘I’ll go into the sergeant’s room and ring when we return to the dormitory,’ Ellie offered.

They discovered half a dozen board games, two boxes of dominoes, a chess set and several packs of cards in a cupboard. The remainder of the morning was spent in these pursuits and despite her concern for the missing recruit, Ellie was feeling more positive by lunchtime.

They had been told to report to the canteen at twelve o’clock precisely. They no longer needed an escort as they were becoming more familiar with the depot. She walked with Daisy and Mary. As she pushed open the doors of the canteen the noise almost overwhelmed her.

The long room was heaving with an assortment of girls still in their civilian clothes. Automatically she straightened her shoulders and marched briskly to join the line.

*

Ellie didn’t discover what had happened to Iris until several days later. The girl’s belongings had disappeared and she had thought nothing of it. However, Iris Duvall had been given the option to change her mind about joining up and she’d taken it.

The next few days were spent in learning how to drill, listening to lectures on ‘Kings regulations’ and several visits to the medical centre for a variety of inspections. One girl was mortified to discover she had nits – but they rallied round and cheered her up.

Two weeks later she went before the selection board whose job it was to decide if any of the candidates had special qualifications. She did – but she didn’t think they would be of any use to her in the WAAF.

They were seen in alphabetical order so she had to wait all day for her turn. Thankfully the waiting area was heated. Eventually she knocked politely on the door and stepped in, her log book and flying licences tucked under her arm.

The room was vast. In the far distance was a table behind which two grim-faced WAAFs and three male officers sat. They watched unsmilingly as she did her best to march smartly. She halted in front of them – and saluted.

‘You may sit down,’ said one of the WAAF officers, gesturing towards the chair placed centrally in front of the table.

Ellie was relieved to sit as her legs were about to give way beneath her.

‘It says here that you are a qualified pilot,’ the other female officer said.

‘Yes, ma’am. I have my licence and log book here if you would care to see them.’

The woman snapped her fingers impatiently and Ellie pushed them across.

‘There are no flying posts for women in the WAAF,’ one of the male officers said.

Did he think she was a complete idiot? ‘Yes, sir, I do know that. If I can’t fly, then at least I can be close to those that do.’

This response failed to impress the men but the women exchanged glances that were slightly less frosty. She was asked about her education and work experience – which was nil apart from farming and flying– neither of which would be much use now.

They ignored her for a few moments whilst they talked in hushed voices together. ‘I see that you expressed a preference for being a wireless or radio operator. We are in need of some girls for a classified operation. Are you prepared to volunteer without knowing the details?’

Ellie hesitated, remembering that she promised her family she wouldn’t volunteer for anything but keep her head below the parapet. They were all looking at her, waiting for her answer.

‘Yes, ma’am, I should like to volunteer.’

Finally, all