We went into ‘H’ Set Room - which had a rather utilitarian outside - obviously the home of a lower grade worker!  Inside, it was very claustrophobic with small windows high up, so that we couldn't see out nor anyone see in, and they didn't give a great deal of light.  On the right as we entered, was a desk where the Supervisor and the Sergeant of the Watch sat.  To the right of them was a door to the aerial room.  This housed the connections to the aerial masts which stretched across the fields of the estate.  There was also a small room where we could hang our greatcoats and hats.  At the back of the hut there were two small rooms, one was the lavatory and the other had a hand basin.  To heat the whole hut there was a small radiator. 

Apart from the first row, all we could see were the top of the girls’ heads with headphones on, presumably taking down Morse - we couldn't actually see what they were doing, as there appeared to be a large board in front of each of them.  We three stood at the front awaiting instructions, the others took over from the outgoing watch.  We had been told that the watch would eventually total thirty-six operators, but at the moment not enough had been trained, so men civilian operators were filling the vacancies.

I was sent to the last desk at the back where a man was obviously taking a message at what looked like break neck speed.  He gestured to me to take up a pair of head phones, which were connected to what appeared to be a large radio set - this was the board that I'd noticed earlier.  He hissed 'take down the log' pointing to a pad in front of me.  The pad was not the same as those we had used at Trowbridge.  For a start, printed at the top in large red letters was W/T RED FORM (red indicating high security) and although some of the sections were familiar there were many more boxes that obviously needed filling in.  I saw that the message pad had the same heading and other additions.

But the worse thing was the wireless set.  I put the headphones on - yes, Morse was coming through at a reasonable speed, but so also was music, atmospherics and what I remember from our old radio at home, we called  'oscillation,' a lot of horrible whines and squeaks, and to make matters worse, the signal was also fading.  The man said, 'Tune it in!'  He must be joking - I hadn't a clue.  There was an enormous 'wheel' in the middle with figures on it and other buttons and switches on the set.        

At that moment his message finished - he tore the pages off the pad and I saw that there was carbon paper under each page.  The top copy went in a tray on the top of the set and was immediately collected by an ATS, known as a "runner" who rolled it up, put it in a metal container and pushed it down a tube at the back of the room, which was connected to the Teleprinter Hut.  He turned, looked at my pitiful effort, I had written two letters down, and said - and I can hear him to this day, 'God Almighty another bloody useless woman'.

I was petrified and all I wanted to do was to get up and run out of the door all the way home to Mum.  I looked over at Rosemary - she was as white as a sheet.  What on earth were we doing here?

The man said, 'You don't know what you're doing do you?  The messages I'm taking are coming from a German Air Base in North Africa.  Have you any idea about Traffic and Star Working?'  Traffic?  Star?  What had that got to do with Morse?  He started on another message while I floundered around trying to work out what the hell I was supposed to be doing.  At the end of the next message, he did unbend, introduced himself as Phil and apologised for being so rude.  He said they were all getting fed up with ATS coming on duty and having no idea of the work.  Also Bletchley Park were fed up.  What or where was Bletchley Park?  Apparently it was a place where the messages we had taken were sent for decoding - it could also be known as Station X.  I began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. 

Luckily it was break time and I and two or three others staggered across the lawn to what looked like a large greenhouse, but turned out to be the canteen.  We had a cuppa and a sandwich or cake - both of which were stale -and to add insult to injury, we had to pay for them!  The others obviously saw that I was in a fragile state and told me not to worry.  You'll soon pick it up and don't take any notice of the men; they can be really nasty about us at times.

To explain this situation I have to go to the future.

About 1993, details of the Codebreaking at Bletchley Park became public knowledge and Enigma and Ultra, became, for the first time, familiar names to millions - including those of us in the 'Y' Service.

In 1940, with the threat of possible imminent invasion, the code breakers at Bletchley were desperate to get as many intercept messages as possible.  But there was a great shortage of personnel.  In the Army, the Signal Corp provided operators, but not enough could be spared.  The Navy had their own operators and the RAF had a few.

 Where were the operators of the future?  Well, some clever lad at the War Office knew the answer.  Women!  In the latter part of 1941, unmarried women between the ages of 18 and 40 were called up to serve either in the Armed Forces, Land Army or in Factories making weapons; you could choose which you wanted to join, but not where you would be sent. 

So, clever boy said - teach high speed Morse to the ones who join the services, especially the ATS.  But how were they to be chosen?  Well, no one had any idea, but did it matter?  Not really, tell the training centres to sort it out - how about intelligence tests - or tell them to use their initiative.

So that's how it came about that I and hundreds of others got caught up in the system.  But of course many of the girls were completely unsuited to the work.  Not through lack of intelligence, you don't need a degree in rocket science to read Morse.  What is needed is an ability to concentrate for long periods, write very fast and legibly and also have the patience to sit for hours waiting for a signal, without dozing off and missing it.  Also the stamina to survive the shift hours!

But, as usual, the scheme hadn't been thought through.  The girls who had survived the course  at Trowbridge, arrived at Beaumanor having been fully tested in taking High Speed Morse. They were then confronted with a new world about which they knew nothing and were completely useless.  Obviously the trainees could not have been told what the job was really about until after they had passed the test and were officially in the 'Y' group.  You couldn't have someone going  back to her training centre, telling everyone what a weird course they'd been on -all about taking German Messages on top secret pads!  So the early operators were thrown in at the deep end and complaints from BP and the civilian chaps poured in.      

There must have been one bright spark at the War Office, for someone came up with a solution.  A church hall in Loughborough was taken over, made completely secure and set up as a Set Room.  The incoming girls would now only stay at Trowbridge for four months and then come to Loughborough for a two-month course on all the procedures, before actually going on Ops, by which time they should know the job backwards.  The poor guinea pigs already on watch would have to do the best they could!

And we did.  Over the weeks and months we got to grips with both the messages and the radios.  I think the radios were American, I remember a Skyrider, an HRO and I think one called a Halicrafter.  I have a feeling the HRO was the favourite, but why I can't remember.  Probably it was the easiest and most sensitive to changes of frequency and reception.  All the sets had dials showing the frequencies, with a large 'knob' for moving over a whole band and a couple of other knobs for increasing the sound and hopefully drowning other noises.  It was difficult to blank out the static and jamming that could often swamp the message you were trying to take.  It was very common for stations to wander off the frequency and whilst writing with one hand, the other would be twiddling the knob to follow them, quite literally some times, as you'd find yourself leaning in the same direction, some times getting almost horizontal!  I remember very clearly taking down a message under what sounded like a military band playing The Entry of the Gladiators - my musical appreciation was quite dimmed on that occasion.