Chapter 32 #2
Bobby pondered this. Was that what she had been thinking – that administrative work had less value because it was so often allotted to women? Perhaps she had.
‘I thought I could help the war effort more by using my brain, that’s all,’ she mumbled.
‘Let me teach you the hard truth of life in the forces, young lady. You do the job that’s put in front of you, just as every soldier, sailor and airman fighting for this country is doing.
No more, no less. Everyone here has come from a different background in civilian life, and they have each been assigned a job that we feel is the best fit for them.
We won’t be victorious if everyone spends their time looking for greener grass on the other side of the fence. Do the job that’s in front of you.’
‘Yes, but surely—’
‘That will be all, Aircraftwoman,’ the officer said sharply. ‘I try to be lenient with new WAAFs in their first week, knowing they still have one foot in civilian life, but I would advise you not to test the limits of that privilege. Go to your work – that’s an order.’
Bobby did as she was told, feeling as she so often had since arriving here – about as insignificant as a worm.
Four days later, there had been only slight improvement in the weather. It had dried up enough, however, for the women to be told that they would head out on their first route march the following day.
Bobby couldn’t say she was looking forward to it.
She had heard about route marches from her male RAF friends.
In her mind was an unpleasant image of being made to march twenty miles over the fells in full kit, only to return, covered in mud and other unsavoury substances, to the prescribed ten-minute bath in five inches of lukewarm water.
Even on the night she had climbed Great Bowside to help the injured airmen, she had at least been able to return home to a soak in a steaming mustard bath, a hot water bottle and a comfortable bed.
After she was off duty, Bobby returned to her dorm. Most of the other women had finished work and would now be in the recreation hut, listening to the wireless and playing cards, but Bobby wanted to see if tomorrow’s fatigue duties had been pinned to the noticeboard yet.
They hadn’t, but she noticed that one of the women had added another strike to the tally counting the days until their two weeks of isolation were up.
To her new friends, the tally meant just one thing: men. They had little interest in the lowly male recruits, but the officer instructors were another matter. The women spoke of these knights of the air as if they were demi-gods, and longed for the day they could see them up close.
The tally meant only one thing to Bobby too.
Letters. She was longing for news from home, but even more than that, she was desperate to see if her last letter to Charlie had produced a response.
If she could only know that everything between them was as it ought to be, she could relax a little.
As it was, the constant worry that something might be wrong kept her on the very edge of her nerves.
Without post she had no way of knowing if he had written back, or if a backlog of letters from the past four weeks might have caught up with her.
She hadn’t received any urgent telegrams, thank God, so she at least knew he was safe. It was his heart she now feared for.
‘Just seven more days,’ she murmured to herself as she walked to her bunk. ‘Good God, but there must be something.’
She found Dilys and Carol on their beds. Dilys was lazing around in her illegally retained civilian knickers and rather grubby bra while laying out cards for a game of Patience. Carol was lying on the bunk above, gazing dreamily at the corrugated ceiling while she smoked a cigarette.
‘Afternoon,’ Bobby said, summoning the mask of joviality she always wore around the others. She had been hoping to have a few minutes to herself before dinner, but no such luck. ‘I thought everyone would be in the rec hut.’
‘I needed to get out of that smothering uniform and let my skin breathe.’ Dilys glanced up from her cards. ‘How’s Stewpot’s pet then?’
‘I’m really not. I don’t even think she likes me. Just my typing speed.’ Bobby waved a hand in front of the dreamy Carol. ‘What’s up with you?’
Carol gave a deep sigh. ‘I’ve met him, Bobs.’
‘Who have you met?’
‘The one. Honestly, I’m ruined for other men now.’
Dilys rolled her eyes. ‘What she’s trying to tell you is that she’s besotted with some officer she served lunch to today.’
Bobby sat on her bunk and started rolling down her itchy lisle stockings. ‘Who is he, Car?’
Carol put out her cigarette and pushed herself up, her eyes sparkling. ‘You’ll never guess. He’s a Yank! My first one.’
Bobby frowned. ‘What would a Yank be doing here?’
‘He was in an RAF uniform. Guess he must be a whatchamacallit – you know, the ones that joined our Air Force right at the start. Eagle Squadron.’ Carol sighed again. ‘And Bobs, he looks so like Robert Taylor it’s untrue.’
‘Doesn’t exist,’ Dilys muttered as she went back to laying out her cards. ‘You shouldn’t read so many film magazines, Car. They’re giving you hallucinations.’
‘Honestly, he’s solid – dead solid,’ Carol said with a grin. ‘Those shoulders! I didn’t get his name but I guess he’s a new instructor. Never served him before so he must be just arrived, which means hopefully no one’s got their claws into him yet.’
‘Why would they send a Yank here as an instructor?’ Bobby asked. ‘The Eagles are fighter squadrons. Ryland Moor trains bomber crew.’
‘Maybe they sent him especially for me,’ Carol said, smirking.
‘So much for finding men for us all,’ Dilys grumbled. ‘Should’ve known you’d bag the best one for yourself.’
‘There’s plenty to go around,’ Carol said airily. ‘I’ve got my eye on some for you three, don’t worry.’
‘I told you—’ Bobby began.
‘Yes, we know, you’re far too deeply in love to ever betray the wonderful Charles,’ Carol said, clutching her heart. ‘Like I said, this is in case you change your mind. Just remember though, ladies: the American flying officer’s mine, all right?’