JOAN HEARSEY

I can still hear the whine and crunch of the stick of bombs that shattered my parent's home in London, killing our neighbour and wounding his wife.
Because of this I went, in 1940, to live with relations in Devon. My family comes from Cornwall and Devon thus with all my cousins and my brother in the Royal Navy it was obvious that I would be a WREN. I had become keen on one of my brother's school friends and he wanted me to join the WAAF but as he was in America getting his pilots wings I joined the WRENS anyway.

I had to volunteer as a cook as this was the only category open at the time but when the Navy found I had been to Secretarial College I was drafted to the Navy establishment at New College Hampstead, London. After training in King's Regulations and Admiralty Instructions and some marching up and down I became a Writer to a very nice father-figure Commander in the Fleet Air Arm. This was on H.M.S. Ariel near Liverpool and there I stayed until I was made pregnant by the fore mentioned Pilot Officer - after getting married of course.

Liverpool, being in Western Aproaches, was a very stimulating place to be at that time - full of ships of many nations, but also too exciting at times, it was so badly bombed. I enjoyed the work and the companionship, my only complaint was always being hungry. The catering was designed to suit sailors and the few WRENS had to take "pot" luck. We would do numerous things to supplement our meals. One idea was going on the "Wings for Victory" marches - promoting National Savings. It was good fun marching behind the Marines Band in various northern towns - only to get the tea in the Town Hall at the end. We also helped neighbouring farmers with hay making to get a good farmhouse supper. Then the U.S.A.A.F. arrived at Burton Wood and we piled into their jeeps to go dancing - their buffet tables were laden with food we had not seen for years. When I was pregnant I managed to stay in the Navy as long as possible. My husband used to send me his air-crew rations of chocolate and oranges. The Commander would also share his food parcels.

I left H.M.S. Ariel (with a chitty saying "suitable for re-entry") in the spring of 1944 and returned to Wimbledon in London. Just about D.Day the Flying V.1. bombs began and I went once more to Devon. Waterloo Station was out of action but my father managed to put me on an American troop train part of the second wave on Omaha beach. I sat on a kitbag to Exeter and just over a day later our son was born in my Aunt's house at Tiverton.

My husband, David flew to Exeter Airfield in a Halifax Bomber with a bicycle in the back. After landing he cycled to Tiverton, inspected his son, cycled back and took off again. The doctor and midwife thought this very romantic.

I returned to London in the early autumn with Peter three months old just as the Rocket V2 bombs began. In May 1945 when he was 10 months old I carried him to see the Victory bonfires, thankful we had all survived.