Ruby Jackson - On a Wing and a Prayer

‘No, this is fine, Rose. You’ve been a grand help.’

‘Haven’t done anything but, Chrissy, maybe if you try to concentrate on how proud of his mum, the secretary, Alan’s going to be…’

‘I will, and thanks.’

‘Nice of you to join us, Petrie.’

The senior mechanic was not pleased to see Rose walk in after he had started talking. She had been late leaving Chrissy and then her attention had been caught by the sight of a long line of army vehicles, each obviously in dire need of care and attention. Her heart had leaped with anticipation as she saw some vehicles that she recognised: an Austin light utility with its spare wheel anchored neatly on top of the driver’s cabin; a Bedford fifteen-hundredweight general service lorry. Each vehicle bore a large red L, and each one was surrounded by trainees and, surprisingly, soldiers. Everyone stood gazing hopefully into the engines, as if by merely looking they would understand all the mysteries inside.

‘Sorry, Sergeant, won’t happen again, sir.’

‘Better not, or you’re out on your ear. Keeping our vehicles moving is about as important a job as there is. What do you know about motorcycles?’

For a second Rose felt faint as she saw again the young man pinned under the motorcycle, and heard his voice: ‘Urgent, please.’

‘Very little, sir.’ She thought quickly. ‘I’d recognise a Harley-Davidson. If you can’t lift it, you can’t ride it.’

The sergeant’s face, red with anger, stared into Rose’s. ‘Is that a girly attempt at humour?’

‘No, sir. I heard it somewhere.’

‘Right, you’re a big girl, let’s see how many of them you can lift.’

He led the way across the machine shop to where motorcycles in various stages of disrepair were lying. ‘Pick them up, Petrie, and if you value your skin, don’t drop any.’

‘I hardly think that’s a sensible use of Private Petrie’s abilities, Sergeant Norris.’ Neither Rose nor the sergeant had heard Junior Commander Strong enter. ‘As far as possible, I hope she will never need to lift a motorcycle but, in the meantime, a working knowledge of the engine would be helpful.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good. Petrie, do try not to be late. The machines won’t repair themselves.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The officer turned and walked out of the workroom, leaving Rose and Sergeant Norris looking at each other while everyone else determined to look anywhere but at them.

‘Get to it then, girl.’

To Rose the smell of oil was almost as pleasant as that of exotic tea leaves from ‘the mysterious East’; she almost revelled in it. Soon her hands were oil- and grease-marked. As a qualified mechanic, Corporal Church instructed her painstakingly.

‘What have you worked on before, Rose?’ Corporal Church asked.

‘My dad’s van and the occasional old banger some of the lads had.’

‘This is your first bike, then?’

Again Rose pictured the crashed motorcycle. ‘Yes, Corporal.’

The corporal smiled, and her rather plain face seemed to light up with an inner glow. ‘Good start. We’ll take this one apart and put it back together again.’

It sounded simple.

‘Bit fiddly,’ said Rose, an hour or so later as she handed over the unfinished job.

‘Maybe so, but you’re well on the way, Rose.’ Once more the mechanic surprised Rose with her friendly smile. ‘I’ll finish this off. While I’m doing that, you can clean those parts lying over there. Keep them in exactly the order you find them; in other words, pick up a part, clean said part, put it down exactly where it was to start with. Got it?’

‘Yes, Corporal.’

For the rest of the afternoon, Rose scarcely lifted her head as she examined and cleaned the motorcycle parts. She found minor and, unfortunately, major dents in some pieces, but was pleased that she was able to repair them. Sally’s fingernails wouldn’t handle this little lot, she thought with a smile as she remembered her actress friend. She looked at her own long and very dirty fingers with their short blunt nails.

‘Better get used to it, Rose.’

Rose smiled at the mechanic. ‘I’m admiring them, Corporal. These dirty hands bring me one step closer.’ She stopped, embarrassed.

‘Closer to what?’

It was impossible to tell the exact truth, which was to be a driver, although, since she had not passed into the unit for drivers, Rose felt deep down that her dream was further away than ever. ‘To be a fully qualified mechanic,’ she said, crossing her fingers behind her back as she spoke.

Corporal Church stood up and stretched to her full height – which was considerably less than Rose’s. ‘A few weeks on bikes, Private Petrie. Do well and I’ll give you an ambulance. Get that going for us and I might just be able to find a staff car that needs a little tender care.’

In spite of what she thought of as a bad start, Rose returned to her billet, a long and fairly wide Nissen hut, in a happy frame of mind. She had started to learn and had achieved a little. She had been reprimanded by the senior mechanic but admitted that she had been careless about time-keeping. He was right to tell me off, she told herself, and he took it on the chin when he caught it from the junior commander. And Corporal Church is a superb mechanic. I like her. There’s something about her, nice and calm and competent. I get the feeling that she’s very fair too.

Dear Mum and Dad,

If you’re planning on putting a packet of tea in my sock at Christmas, could I please have it a little early, like now? Food’s not bad; we had some decent gravy today, which covered up the smell of the corned beef very well, and hid the taste and all. I told you about Chrissy as trained with me. She’s here too, which is lovely because she’s a nice woman, but she’s worried sick about her son. A really good cuppa would make quite a difference, I think. He’s not long shipped out and she hasn’t had a letter since he left. Have you had a letter from our Phil?

Rose stopped for a moment and shouted, ‘I wish this blasted war was over.’ Feeling slightly better, she returned to her letter.

Has Daisy said anything about Tomas, about where his family is? That was another horror story when we were catching up with the news. A whole village in Bohemia, which I’m told is part of Czechoslovakia, was burned down and everybody killed. It’s called Lidice, the village that is. Really awful. I hope Tomas’s family isn’t from there. Good news is the Americans have defeated the Japanese at a place called Midway, which I think is an island in the Pacific Ocean. All our senior officers were cheering so it must be something special. It was Mr Fischer who used to explain all the news to Daisy, wasn’t it? Daisy said she bumped into him somewhere, didn’t she? Wonder where he is because I would really like someone to explain all this.

I miss you. Today I got started on engines but they were motorcycle engines and I never worked on one before. The chief mechanic is pretty grumpy. No, actually that’s not fair, I was late and he was angry. Afraid I didn’t cover myself with glory as I just could not get the hang of what he was trying to explain and he got more and more impatient. I met a really nice mechanic though, a corporal, so we can’t be friends since I’m just a private, but there’s something about her, Mum, you know. You get a feeling sometimes, doesn’t matter if they’re rich or poor, but something in the face or the eyes tells you this is a good person. Well, that’s Corporal Church and she was ever so supportive.

Say hello to everybody in your letters and remind our Daisy she’s got a twin sister in case she’s forgotten. Ha-ha.

Love to all,

Rose

Rose finished her letter, put it in an envelope, which she addressed and sealed before looking around the room, aware for the first time in several minutes that other girls had entered the hut while she had been writing and were now making themselves comfortable on beds or chairs.