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Authors: Annie Murray
Tags: Saga, Family Life
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eager-to-please ATS recruits – all except one, next to the toilet where Molly had been.
‘Right – come along!’ The corporal barged her way into the cubicle. ‘Out you come – you’ve gone over the minute.’
From inside they heard the girl’s high voice protesting miserably, ‘But I can’t go any faster! I’m not feeling well. I’ve got my . . .’ Her voice lowered to an embarrassed murmur. If she was hoping for any fellow feeling from Corporal Morrison, it was not forthcoming.
‘I said one minute, not three! Get yourself out there! You’re in the army now, not your boudoir!’
Molly felt sorry for her, but also scornful. She was going to have to harden up, that one was.
‘Blimey,’ Lena tutted lugubriously. Molly wasn’t sure if she was expressing sympathy or scorn for Honor.
They waited for what seemed another agonizingly long minute and at last Honor left the latrine, shoulders hunched, her face red with mortification. She was obviously very close to tears.
‘I haven’t washed my hands,’ she wailed.
‘This is latrine parade, not ablutions parade! When it’s ablutions parade, I’ll tell you! Is that clear? Now – left wheel, quick march!’
The first stop was for bedding – three ‘biscuits’, or straw sections, of mattress. They were ordered to carry these to their beds and return for the rest of the bedding allocation: three blankets, two pillows, two sheets, two pillowslips.
Next, it was clothing. Some of the girls had lapsed into silence out of pure exhaustion at the newness of it all. Others were full of ribald comments, often to cover their awkwardness. When they were issued with thick sanitary towels and a belt, Molly and Lena stared at them in embarrassed confusion, not liking to admit they’d never seen any before. Old, washed-out rags were all Molly had ever known. They both got the giggles.
‘I’ve always wanted summat big between my legs,’ Molly remarked loudly, which made some of the others tut at them.
Then, in the clothing store, to stash into their kitbag they were issued with every bit of clothing they could have imagined and more, down to bras and suspender belts, gloves and overalls, and as well as everyday army clothing, there were gym shoes and a hairbrush, cutlery and a mending kit called a housewife, or ‘hussif’.
‘Blimey – how big do they think I am?’ Lena held up a dreadnought of a brassiere against her bony little chest. She and Molly laughed raucously, trying the suspender belts against themselves and holding up the massive pairs of khaki underpants.
‘God, you’ll both be irresistible in those,’ Cath said.
‘They’ll take some getting off!’ Molly cackled loudly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruth and the other dark-haired girl staring at her in horror. Oh, so disapproving! She waved the underpants in their direction. ‘Don’t worry, ladies – no one’ll get at you in these!’
Lena and Cath laughed, but once again Ruth and the other girl turned away, disgusted.
‘Ooh, look at them,’ Lena whispered. ‘Poker-faced pair they are, ain’t they?’
The group of girls was already breaking up into factions, and the more Molly, Lena and a couple of allies – Cath and another two girls called Doris and Mary – poked fun and came out with increasingly ribald remarks, the more frosty their reception became from the rest of the girls in their hut. The sense of their disapproval and superiority made Molly feel all the more like being loud and showing them she didn’t care what they thought.
When at last they did get something to eat that evening, they learned that the place where they would eat was called the ‘mess’ and that they were to use their ‘irons’ – the army issue of cutlery – and their cup. In the mess, they were faced with plates piled with gluey heaps of macaroni cheese. Molly ate hers ravenously, thinking it tasted quite good. Lena and Cath did the same, but they could see Honor, across the long
‘Right – come along!’ The corporal barged her way into the cubicle. ‘Out you come – you’ve gone over the minute.’
From inside they heard the girl’s high voice protesting miserably, ‘But I can’t go any faster! I’m not feeling well. I’ve got my . . .’ Her voice lowered to an embarrassed murmur. If she was hoping for any fellow feeling from Corporal Morrison, it was not forthcoming.
‘I said one minute, not three! Get yourself out there! You’re in the army now, not your boudoir!’
Molly felt sorry for her, but also scornful. She was going to have to harden up, that one was.
‘Blimey,’ Lena tutted lugubriously. Molly wasn’t sure if she was expressing sympathy or scorn for Honor.
They waited for what seemed another agonizingly long minute and at last Honor left the latrine, shoulders hunched, her face red with mortification. She was obviously very close to tears.
‘I haven’t washed my hands,’ she wailed.
‘This is latrine parade, not ablutions parade! When it’s ablutions parade, I’ll tell you! Is that clear? Now – left wheel, quick march!’
The first stop was for bedding – three ‘biscuits’, or straw sections, of mattress. They were ordered to carry these to their beds and return for the rest of the bedding allocation: three blankets, two pillows, two sheets, two pillowslips.
Next, it was clothing. Some of the girls had lapsed into silence out of pure exhaustion at the newness of it all. Others were full of ribald comments, often to cover their awkwardness. When they were issued with thick sanitary towels and a belt, Molly and Lena stared at them in embarrassed confusion, not liking to admit they’d never seen any before. Old, washed-out rags were all Molly had ever known. They both got the giggles.
‘I’ve always wanted summat big between my legs,’ Molly remarked loudly, which made some of the others tut at them.
Then, in the clothing store, to stash into their kitbag they were issued with every bit of clothing they could have imagined and more, down to bras and suspender belts, gloves and overalls, and as well as everyday army clothing, there were gym shoes and a hairbrush, cutlery and a mending kit called a housewife, or ‘hussif’.
‘Blimey – how big do they think I am?’ Lena held up a dreadnought of a brassiere against her bony little chest. She and Molly laughed raucously, trying the suspender belts against themselves and holding up the massive pairs of khaki underpants.
‘God, you’ll both be irresistible in those,’ Cath said.
‘They’ll take some getting off!’ Molly cackled loudly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruth and the other dark-haired girl staring at her in horror. Oh, so disapproving! She waved the underpants in their direction. ‘Don’t worry, ladies – no one’ll get at you in these!’
Lena and Cath laughed, but once again Ruth and the other girl turned away, disgusted.
‘Ooh, look at them,’ Lena whispered. ‘Poker-faced pair they are, ain’t they?’
The group of girls was already breaking up into factions, and the more Molly, Lena and a couple of allies – Cath and another two girls called Doris and Mary – poked fun and came out with increasingly ribald remarks, the more frosty their reception became from the rest of the girls in their hut. The sense of their disapproval and superiority made Molly feel all the more like being loud and showing them she didn’t care what they thought.
When at last they did get something to eat that evening, they learned that the place where they would eat was called the ‘mess’ and that they were to use their ‘irons’ – the army issue of cutlery – and their cup. In the mess, they were faced with plates piled with gluey heaps of macaroni cheese. Molly ate hers ravenously, thinking it tasted quite good. Lena and Cath did the same, but they could see Honor, across the long
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