I first took an interest in meteorology when as a youngster at the beginning of the war I joined the Women’s Junior Air Corp.
After having survived the heavy blitzes on Merseyside, at one stage I watched the famous Argyle Theatre burn down, and having passed exams – I decided at the age of 16 years to join the WAAF. In due course, I presented myself at Renshaw Hall in Liverpool, the local enlisting office. Naturally, I was asked for my birth certificate and convincingly I told the recruiting officer that we had been bombed out the night before and none was available. I cannot remember how I told my parents that I had enlisted. My mother had no objection for she was an ambulance driver and had done the same thing in World War I. My father wasn’t sure as my two brothers had been called up at the beginning of hostilities. However, I passed all the procedures and eventually landed in Innsworth to be kitted out and moved on to Morecombe where I did my square bashing. What a rude awakening!
My training was done in a famous furniture store building in London, where we learned to teleprint c/o the GPO Hendon and how to read temperatures, do slide rule calculations, recognise clouds etc., plot charts, read barometers sort out the Stevenson Screen and code up the reports. At this time the Meteorologists were civilians. Having passed the course exams, the time came for posting. I was asked where I would like to go. My posting was 250 miles from my choice to No 9 Group, Royal Canadian Air Force – Middleton St George, Co Durham. They were flying Wellington Bombers on ops. My colleagues realized that I was still only a youngster – took me under their wings and I had a good initiation into life in the Met Office. The weather wasn’t always suitable for flying but we still had to report it. There were nights when I went on duty in fog and it was so dense that at one time I was lost on a dispersal point and finished up on my hands and knees crawling around the edge until I got to the office! That was a time when I wished I hadn’t joined.
From Durham I had three other short postings – Croft (now a car racing track), Liverpool Speke (now John Lennon Airport), and Sealand. At Speke we were contacted by N.W Army HQ nightly, to give them wind readings for the upper air, this apparently was to enable them to set their guns correctly – I was never quite sure how this worked but I often wondered if my slide-rule calculations would enable them to sort out any German invasion of Liverpool! I had my uses there too – the Irish planes would come in from Dublin and I looked forward to these for they brought gifts of sweets, but nevertheless I still had to sit upon the weather charts that the forecasters didn’t want the pilots to see.
Life was different at the MU Unit at Sealand. Different aspects of Meteorology were used as there was no flying. One of these was to fill huge white balloons with hydrogen and tie a gondola underneath with a lighted candle, release and follow the light with a Theodolite to work out the upper winds. How I managed not to blow the office up never ceases to amaze me! Nevertheless, I was gaining experience all the time, particularly how to get home without a pass.
From Sealand I was posted in 1943 to a new station – RAF Swannington and I was there until 1946 with Mosquito Squadrons 157 and 85. There I met up with my WAAF colleagues and by this time RAF Meteorologist Officers. F.O’s Ernie Dearing, Laurie Rendell, Corrigan and A.N Other. The WAAF contingent was LACW’s Joyce Dobb, Barbara Jeffries, Sylvia Cheeseman, Pam Watson and myself, Dorothy Howard.
As far as we observers were concerned we worked a three-shift system, 7am to 3pm, 3pm to 11pm and the night-shift 11pm to 7am. The latter, unless there were ops, or circuits and bumps, I used to dread. Why? Well having no running water we were supplied with a water bowser outside and filling a kettle meant running the risk of rats. There were also the odd occasions when we had tremendous thunder and electrical storms which lit up the whole of the countryside and the whole of Flying control were snoring their heads off and I had to go outside to ‘do’ the weather! I was lyrical now when I say that I used to love the starlit nights and, dare I say. ‘the bomber moon’ nights. This wasn’t a romantic streak in me – it was easier to calculate vision and report the weather, which had to be done every hour. Sometimes I might have nodded off it there was no flying, and if I had a ‘phone call from Group quickly repeated the last ob, with a slight variation and giving them some excuse why I was late.
Plotting charts became skilful using two pens together, one black and one red, from the coded messages received from ETA via the teleprinter. They usually took ¾ of an hour as speed was often of the essence for the forecaster. We also had to encode the weather report and send via teleprinter back to ETA for the next chart. It almost became an artform. I think we all took pride in producing neat and tidy charts every three hours.
The office was pretty hectic before ops especially on the eve of D-Day when I was on night duty. We were always glad to hear the telling drone of the Mosquito engine and we knew that they were safely back. There were sad times too, when any failed to return. They were brave men and my little bit was nothing compared to their efforts.
Times were helped when we played mixed hockey with the air crew and I remember playing a team with F/Lt Chisholm (Chris)(his dog lay on the sideline) “Get back Howard I’ll play forward” and they used to knock 7 bells out of one another. Then off they’d go on ops.
There were also trips into Norwich via the Liberty bus, one shilling (5 pence) return. It was good camaraderie and times, on reflection. I would not have missed.
I was often posted around the Group to stand in when they were short staffed – but always managed to get back to Swannington. I’d made so many friends and I didn’t want to miss the jollifications down at the Ratcatcher’s or the Kings Head in Cawston.
I still look at the sky and work out the clouds and amounts and often think of the days, some good, some bad and long gone, but am happy to recall and am pleased that there is an Association to keep them alive.
If this epistle seems to be frivolous on any way with regard to my duties, please disregard it for they were taken in a very serious way and which I was proud to do. It also meant that I grew up very very quickly.
Eventually when the war was over, time came to think what I would do in Civvy Street. Because of my ‘sporting’ instincts and I mean that literally, I decided to remuster as a Physical Training Instructor. Thereby hangs another tale and maybe I might write a bit more and head it “Just before I go”.
Dorothy Hudson
2006
This article is from the Spring 2006 issue of Confound and Destroy
