Pamela joined the WRNS in 1943. He written account gives an insight into the training her and her fellow classmates were involved in when learning to be Air Radar Mechanics. Pamela was posted to Devonport to work with the Royal Navy and worked on trawlers for almost two years. In her recollections, Pamela remembers the technical work she did, the people she accountered and the sad realities of war.

This written account was originally published in the publication Wartime News

On 22nd August 1943, the WRNS in its wisdom, having decided that the intake of 8th August should train as Air Radar Mechanics, sent the twenty or so newly hatched WRNS to spend four months at Walthamstow Technical College in order to learn the basics of Radio Theory and Workshop Practice. Thus was born class ARM 21.

We wrote reams of notes on fault finding procedure, made our own C spanners and mastered the intricacies of the soldering iron (electric ones not allowed!) It helped with the fault finding if one remembered whether the anode, or possibly the cathode, went positive, or negative at the outset of any radio operation. As very few of us had previously been introduced to Ann, Cath or even Di Ode, it gave rise to various horror and silent hysterics. But some of the girls were brilliant, outdoing sailors working on the same course at the same time.

New Year's Day 1944, started us on four month's further slogging at HMS Ariel, which at that time was near Warrington in Lancashire. Radar, a title culled from the USA and previously having been referred to as Radio Location or Radio Direction Finding was so secret that on no account could it be discussed with anyone. Our books were locked in the classrooms at the end of each day, and on leave, the instruction when asked the category indicated by the badge of wings bisected by a shaft of light was to say airily "Oh something to do with wireless."

We took our final exams, which reduced us all to quivering jellies, and some to tears, and together with two weeks unravelling IFF (Identification Friend or Foe) we passed out as leading WRNS. Our "buttons" when we became Petty Officers followed a year later.

Having trained as Air Radar Mechanics on an ancient Swordfish aircraft, and even more ancient Walrus, the rest of ARM 21 departed at various Fleet Air Arm stations, while I was posted to Devonport to work with the Royal Navy.

The HQ of Maintenance and Shipping Control in the Dockyard was an old French battleship, FS Paris, which was distinguished by a very tall tower with a clock face painted on with figures from 1-10. I was never quite able to find out the significance of this, but I believe it was something to do with gunnery targets. After the war, we watched her being towed back to France, very slowly, and in a dignified manner! Sad we were to see her go.

When I first arrived in Devonport, I found myself meekly carrying the tool box of the Sub Lieutenant i/c Radar for M/S and A/P vessels (Minesweeping and Auxiliary Patrol Ships) - these were 25 or so converted trawlers, each with crews of about fifty men and four officers, mainly RNVR and RNR. The sub shortly afterwards having been drafted to Australia, I was asked if I could carry on until he was replaced, which never happened, so I carried on regardless!

The 286 Radar set was reasonably simple and was used for navigation and defence purposes. But occasionally, when the set was turned on, all the ship's lights went off. The electrics were to say the least, whimsical and frolicsome. My trusty soldering iron played its part from time to time, and the valves expired regularly. (This was BT- before transistors- but the electronics and I coped somehow.)

The trawlers had picturesque names - Ruby, Pearl, Kingston Andalusite, Kingston Chrysoberyl, Skomer,Lindisfarne, Gweal, Cornelian, Minalto, Cambridgeshire, Guardsman among others, and there was also Ellesmere, a whaler. Their crews, somewhat surprised at having a young WRN on board, were very kind and I soon conquered my nervousness. As soon as I leapt among them, in bell bottomed trousers, armed with my toolbox and statutory WRNS shoulder bag, never a wicked word was uttered- well, hardly ever- and then only by mistake.

Occasionally I was called to the other ships- a French corvette (they gave me a delicious lunch!) an LCT or two and once a captured German trawler. The whole vessel was filthy, the radar was unworkable, the acorn coffee dregs were indescribable, even to look at, and I had to be deloused afterwards. Most undignified!

On the larger vessels I boarded, QH, which the RAF called Gee, was installed, and many hours were spent in calibration. PPI (Plan Position Indicator) was also used on some vessels, and still in existence- but in colour. There were WRNS working on large gunnery sets (385, I believe) on the Breakwater, but I was very attached to my little 286s and was grateful to avoid the three miles out and three miles back each day in a small boat.

There were some sad moments amongst the many happy ones. Working on board Ellesmere one Saturday, a sailor asked me to send a telegram to his wife, whose birthday was the following Monday, as they were about to sail. On Sunday, I was told that "Ellie" had been torpedoed and sunk just outside the Breakwater. There were no survivors. All I could think about was that the widow would receive two telegrams on her birthday, one from her husband and one from the Admiralty. Tragic.

One FAA WRN Radar Mechanic friend, Isobel Squires, was killed when the aircraft in which she was testing a set crashed. She was 21 years old.

As I worked on trawlers for almost two years, I came to know those on board very well, and although I may have missed the hustle and bustle of an FAA station, Devonport had its many moments (I seem to recall an extremely long conga snaking along the Hole on VJ Day.) I valued very much, and still do, the affection and friendship of those whom I have known for almost 60 years. Incidentally, one of them married me.

Another friend from ARM 21, Joy Pidgeon (nee Hawes) and I have recently arranged to have a tree planted in the WRNS plot in the National Memorial Arboretum in Alrewas, Staffordshire. It is dedicated: To those who did not come back.