Riches (Bate)

• Service - WRNS

Summary of Service:

Bombe operator. In cast of 'Combined Ops' revue.

Commemorated on the CodeBreakers Wall - Yes

Service Certificate:

• Service Certificate

Barbara Bate's wartime memoir

An Innocent at War Like many teenagers growing up in the shadow of war, I was desperate to do my bit. So when I was accepted for the WRNS in 1943, I left home in Gloucestershire and travelled up to Mill Hill, London to start my training. Soon, Wren Riches stood proudly in front of the mirror straightening her jacket, ignoring those enormous bloomers and trying to set her hat at a rakish angle. Little did I realise how ill-prepared I was for the life ahead of me. My hair was my father's pride and joy. It was so long I could sit on it, but it didn't matter how many pins and twists I used, it would not behave. It wasn't just that I couldn't keep it flat enough on my head; I couldn't keep it up at all! That fantastic new sailor's hat was more often in my hand than on my head. I was told to go to Monsieur Raymond in the West End where he was known locally as Mr. Teazy Weazy, famous for his bubble cut. When my locks had all been cut off I asked if I could keep my hair but was told it had all been thrown away. The other girls couldn't believe I hadn't sold it- hair was a prized item during the war, especially for expensive wigs. I was asked to sign the Official Secrets Act and then sent to work on the Enigma machine. Although Bletchley Park was the face of the code breaking programme, there were a number of houses and 'huts' which were also breaking the code. I was in a hut with 80 girls. Each hut was divided into ten bays with bunk beds which opened onto the central corridor and eight girls had to share each bay. You would have thought that prudery would quickly become a thing of the past in such cramped conditions, but some girls became expert at dressing and undressing under the bedclothes! It was very intense work with three shifts a day, 8am-4pm, 4pm-midnight, midnight - 8am. We would do a week of each and then have four days' leave. When you came outside from the night watch, you never knew whether it was breakfast or supper. Any girls who made a mistake in setting up the machine, and therefore, missed breaking the code, would often wear a black arm band for a week. Many had a nervous breakdown and were sent to Cornwall. I was threatened with that when my sinuses flared up and became infected. To help me keep quiet, the powers that be gave me a padded wooden spoon to press against my brow! Luckily my father managed to have me seen by a surgeon who promptly operated and speedily sent me back to work. Many of the girls complained about the poor food, especially on the night watch. Parents had been sending anonymous letters to the Admiralty about it, so a senior officer was sent to investigate and the Wrens coming off the afternoon and night watch that day had to wait in the common room until he arrived. We were asked for our opinions and there was dead silence. So I, the naive 17 year old, believing in the truth, stood forward all alone! (Well, I was also very tired and just wanted my bed.) I informed the officer that he and the staff just had to look at the amount of food that was sent for pig swill. I was asked to apologise to the cooks and stewards but held to my guns and refused. So I was 'sent to Coventry'. Somehow, someone high up heard about these goings on, and the next thing I knew, the food issue was being brought up in the House of Commons. As a result, people began apologising to me! It was then that I realised people are grouped into sheep and leaders. Just because we worked such long shifts, we were not excused squad drill. I used to dread it because I could never remember my left from my right. I still can't! I would drill keeping my left hand open with my thumb pointing forward to form an ‘L’ and still turned in the wrong direction, causing chaos in the ranks. In despair, the drill instructor put me in the back row, and on the next left wheel, I smartly marched diagonally across the squad ground all on my own. I must have been the only Wren ever permanently excused squad drill! On our days off, we were sometimes given a late pass, but that still meant we had to be back in by 11pm. Of course, we were often late. It is difficult to catch a tube at Piccadilly when all the people are sleeping on the platform and any spaces in between being taken up by excited children running up and down. The air was foetid and I always wondered how anyone managed to sleep. Once back at the hut we had to tap on a window, hoping someone would hear and open it so we could climb in. If we were seen, we would be declared a 'defaulter' and hauled before the Commanding Officer, cap in hand! This would mean saying good bye to another late pass for quite a long time. On VE day people were packed into the Mall like sardines, singing and dancing. There was no hope of a tube that night, so the police gave our group their capes and allowed us to sleep under the shop canopy of Swan & Edgar's at Piccadilly Circus. No one was a defaulter that night!

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