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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Anne King of Leicestershire Library Services on behalf of Rose Canner and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Like thousands of my contemporaries, I was just 18 when I was called up to serve my country. I had visions of being in one of the women's services, preferably the 'Wrens’ whose uniform I had admired, but alas, I failed the medical as I was slightly deaf. This, apparently, was no drawback as far as the Southern Railway was concerned. So I was given a card and told to report to Feltham railway depot. Thinking that I was going to work in one of the offices,I wasn't too worried. On arrival my details were noted, I was measured, and given a pair of dungarees which were supposed to fit me (what were these for I wondered?). I soon found out! Next I was given a large bucket of mineral oil and some rags, a list of four locomotives and instructions to clean them - just like that, no training or advice. I looked at the huge engines in horror and shed a few tears it took me about half an hour to put my hands in the bucket of mineral oil, there were no rubber gloves in those days.
After I had been at the depot for a few months, I was joined by a number of other girls. This lightened the workload considerably and we became quite proficient, as our engines gleamed when we had finished them. My favorite was number 347, she was smaller than most and I found that I could hide myself in her if I wanted to get out of the way. After polishing the engines, the flues had to be cleaned, as had the wheels. The wheels were cleaned by a steam gun which had a piercing, deafening hiss. It was a case of God help anyone who got in the way when I was wielding this weapon!
During these years we worked on a three shift system, I used to enjoy the nightshift as it entailed issuing stores to the crews. These included fog signals, flags, oil and detonators. Also, if I was lucky, the foreman would let me have a nap on the mat behind the door. One piece of machinery which fascinated me was the massive turntable, which with such ease turned the huge, heavy locomotives for their next journey.
When we were on the early shift at 6am, I remember clearly how we all stood around the huge glowing furnace on the cold winters mornings, complete with a huge enamel mug of steaming hot tea and condensed milk. By the way, for the non steam enthusiasts, the furnace was maintained by the furnace man, who carried red hot coals from his furnace on a huge pan to fire up engines for use later on. No need for papers and sticks.
During these years of course, London was continually under attack, from air raids, ‘Doodles', V1 and V2. rockets. We suffered casualties, once a V1 demolished a signal box resulting in several people being killed. Life had its lighter times too, we became adept at skiving. For instance, we would finish a couple of engines and then do a bit of sunbathing behind the engines in the long grass. We even nipped off to the pictures in Hounslow, having arranged, with workmates to hand our dockets in for us.
There were very few young men on the railway during the war, as most of them had been called up, but we did have a lot of fun between ourselves, in particularly at the ‘Railway Tavern' which was nearby. We held socials and dances every Saturday night and became friendly with the locals. I also recall, that my favorite tipple was cherry brandy at 2/6 a tot!
One event which caused much amusement was the arrival of a number of Italian POWs, who were supposed to help us at the depot. They weren't particularly expert at working and spent a lot of time leaning on their shovels and giving us the once over. They led us an awful time chasing us around, but our men were always around if they got too fresh! By and large, the Italians were not too bad and were grateful for an occasional cigarette. They certainly moved quickly when there was an air raid warning - they were always the first in the shelters and crouched with their hands on their heads when the anti aircraft guns opened up, or Doodles flew over, or worse still, dropped near at hand.
With all that continually happening the months and years passed quickly. I found that the railway stories of firemen or drivers cooking breakfast on a shovel to be true, and have enjoyed such a meal on the footplate. Each month we were allowed a tin of condensed milk and a packet of cocoa. Rather than make drinks we used to mix the rations to make a gooey chocolate, to be consumed in our rest cabin, which was complete with a coke stove for heating.
The noise in the depot was so loud, that the only way to communicate was to shout as loudly as possible. Obviously too, By the end of the shift we were filthy with soot, oil, grease and sweat. I remember to this day the luxury of a hot bath with four inches of water. I remember as well the people with whom I lodged at this time, and their lives during these years. We all helped each other in anyway we could. I recall also that during this period I had no holiday or leave, apart from the occasional weekend.
At the end of 1946, I discovered that my family had been evacuated to Ashby De La Zouch, of which I had never heard, I moved to Leicestershire when I was able and it was there, that I was fated to meet an ex-RAF man named Gerald, but that's another story!

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