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Home <> Lifestory Library <> Explore By Location <> <> <> Mysterious Disappearing Men – But Only On Fridays!




  Contributor: Joyce WatsonView/Add comments



During 1943, at the age of 21, it was Joyce Kent's turn to go to Fleet Air Arm Station, Yeovilton, Somerset. She was a registered nurse with the VAD (Volunteer Auxiliary Detachment).

'In total there were 1500 wrens, ratings, officers and RAF males on the station. I had my room with internal phone at HMS Heron, the boat name of Yeovilton Air Station.

If there were any emergency admissions, I could be summoned to go with the driver of an ambulance-type vehicle to pick them up from billets spotted around.

Being G1, I could have meals in the Ward Room (naval terminology for Officers' Mess) like other Services' Officers. I also had extra vitals and Ward Room expenses.

I joined the female Petty Officers on Christmas day, and we had a good crack. My only complaint that day was that I got knocked off my bike by a Fleet Air Arm rating dressed in tropical kit. He was paralytic and just flew out of his quarters. It was freezing cold, but my pride was more hurt than I was.

It seemed that every Friday, the men would in turn disappear for a short while. On asking the Chief Petty Officer where they went, I was to learn that it was the day for free issue condoms. They prided themselves on having no VD on the camp!

On hearing the air crash buzzer you just froze, if possible against a wall of the sick bay, to allow the ambulance crew to go like the clappers, followed by fire engines. In the meanwhile I would have to get saline solutions and swabs all ready for action. I hated it - the theory was to swab down burns, and the Surgeon Commander would assess very quickly the next procedure. Some of the sights were horrific.

Once, the Surgeon Commander congratulated me. He said, 'I've been watching you, tell me what will you do when this lots over.' I told him I would like to train, to which he seemed pleased and said he would give me references.

In 1944 I had an interview at Rochford General Hospital, Southend, where I was accepted for General State Certificate Training.
Johnny Fryer, a patient I'd met whilst training at Haslar Hospital, kept in touch with letters. To think we used to sit and hold hands and reminis in the park at Sherbourne. He came from Auckland, New Zealand before joining the Royal Navy.

Johnny and I did eventually meet up in Southsea, to celebrate his gold braid Sub/Lieutenant and my starting at Rochford the next day. We had separate rooms, however, and no sex - it never entered our heads.'

Joyce enjoyed three years training at Rochford General Hospital and passed her finals to become an SRN. From there she went onto Harefield Hospital when, in 1950, she met her first husband, Ron, over face masks whilst in theatre.


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