2023 King Charles III Coronation by Jan Westbury

 

The blog this month had to reflect on the momentous occasion of the Coronation.  What an event the Coronation turned out to be on May 6th 2023, together with the preparations before and the events after over an extended holiday weekend.  It goes without saying that a highlight was seeing our military personnel in their uniforms and playing their part in the Coronation parade.  It made us proud to be British.

Of course, as a former army nurse I was particularly proud to see the photographs of our QARANC marching contingent of 27.  The Association website reports the next Gazette will provide stories of the day.

On a personal note I was invited with my husband to the Kings Coronation Garden Party.   This was a huge honour and we were very lucky to have a lovely sunny day.  I wasn't sure what afternoon tea would be like, but it was delicious!   I met so many amazing people, volunteers who had been invited in recognition of their contribution.  There were quite a few military personnel there too, at the garden party but also on duty.  Two military bands played all afternoon. There is always a connection between those who have served.  I met a 6'8" Guardsman who was to carry the Commonwealth Flag in the parade.  We had our photograph taken, but at 5'4" I looked tiny beside him, but unfortunately I did not seek his permission to publish.  Such a memorable day.

Jan Westbury - former QARANC Captain

Joining the QA’s in 1956 by Diane Welsh

I’m 85 now and joined the QAs to train as a state registered nurse when I was 18 in 1956, leaving a small village near Salisbury. From the age of 7 I had wanted to be a nurse and I imagined myself like Florence Nightingale; I wanted to join to nurse the soldiers.

We started off at Hindhead for 2 weeks, just the new QA’s collecting uniform, before we went to Elizabeth Barracks in Aldershot for the next 3 months . The training was a mix of army and nursing training. We wore khaki, learnt to march and go on parade, and then in the classroom we had lessons on map reading and nursing. We were 2 in a room and had to be up at 0630 to clean our room before breakfast, followed by parade and general tidying before starting lessons. At 12md we marched; lunch 12md – 1300; more lessons until 1700 when we had tea; then back in the classroom until 2100, five days a week. There was a free hour spent in the NAAFI with the medical corps, before we had to be in at 2200, when the doors were locked and in bed by 2300. It was very strict. We were allowed 2 late passes every month and taught to write a letter “Dear Ma’am, I have the honour to submit this, my application…..” We worked 5 days a week until 9pm at night. After passing our basic examinations we were sent to hospitals and I was posted to Catterick.

I was at Catterick for 2 years working on the wards and undertaking block training with the Sister Tutor and loved it. The hospital and accommodation were very old and I was in a billet of 10 of us with a coke fire in the middle of the room. We worked 6 days a week and I cannot remember if we had ½ day off or one day, but do remember being told that in the army it was 24 hours a day and 7 days a week! I do remember the long hours from 0800 -1700 or more commonly split shifts from 0800 – 1400 and back from 1700 – 2200. Our routine was usually to clean the wards when we came on duty, pulling out the beds into the middle of the room, wash down the floors, followed by the bumper machines to polish the floor. At 1000 we started the treatments for the patients. One day I had just finished my 0800-1700 shift when matron saw me and said “Nurse Willmot, I need you back on night duty tonight to do a special”, then another time I was on a ½ day off and laying on my bed when deputy matron appeared to tell me I was babysitting that night for the Commanding Officer. There was no choice. Can you imagine nurses doing that today? During my time at Catterick there was a huge outbreak of influenza in the country and this was hard work, but there was great camaraderie, perhaps like it was in the recent COVID pandemic.

We still had a bed time and were locked in at Catterick. One night I was in the NAAFI, as I enjoyed dancing, a friend and I were locked out as we were so late. We had to climb though a window, but were caught. Deputy matron made us scrub the lavatory walls down as a punishment.

For meals we had a QA section, that separated us from the men from the medical corps, by a huge board. They would make comments as we walked through and then occasionally they would throw something over the board, like a rock cake. It was all with a sense of fun.

I was posted to a hospital in Germany and that was very different. The hospital was very small and modern, with just 8 QAs and lots of medics, located out in the country. I was based on the gynaecological ward and we carried on with block training with a Sister Tutor. Here I had my own room and we shared a maid who did all our cleaning for us. There was no NAAFI club, but a small NAAFI, where the men had formed a band and that was great fun. We were not allowed out of camp and still had to be in. The only parts of Germany I saw were when we had transport to a shopping centre on a Saturday and when I travelled on the train home for my leave. I used to do a lot of nights where we worked 3 weeks on then had a week off, so I used my travel warrant to go on the train to the Hook of Holland to catch the ferry to Harwich. There were always others to travel with.

It was in Germany I met my husband. I was in the NAAFI at the Juke Box and I saw this man looking at me. The next day one of the QAs who worked in the operating theatre gave me a note from him asking to meet me. Well, that was that. He was shortly to be demobbed after two years on National Service with a one-year extension and as I was going to marry him I had to leave the QAs. This meant I did not take my final examinations to be an SRN as I left just before.

Looking back, I loved my time, it was a good life and I made lots of friends, particularly from our time in the NAAFI.

Formerly Private Diane Willmot QARANC

1. NAAFI The Navy, Army and Air Force Institutes, who provide bars and clubs (and more) for socialising across the world for the Forces community.

Thoughts and feelings on becoming a QA! by Rod Eldridge

 

I joined the RAMC as qualified mental health nurse (RMN) in 1986 and always aspired to become a general nurse or as some might say a proper nurse! My elder brother Malcolm was a serving general nurse (SRN) in the RAMC, and he was enjoying a varied and successful career, he was very much a role model to me in the early days of my army career.

In 1989 following a 2yr tour of Northern Ireland as a Cpl, I was successful in securing a place for my general nurse training being seconded to a civilian hospital namely St Peters Chertsey. I qualified in 1991 and went to work at QEMH on various wards and depts, I also did short stint in Belize C.A. with the FST. Later that year having been recommended I applied for my commission, it was at this time, the talk on the corridors of the QEMH about the changes to the nursing Cadre was rife with the notion that all nurses irrespective of gender were having to transfer to or join, the QARANC. This was mentioned many times in the interviews and panels during my commissioning process.

My answer was partly playing the game as it would be foolish to go against the decision which on the face of made entire sense as it was logical to put all nurses in one Corps, especially if I wanted to gain my commission. There was a bit of me which was sad to say goodbye to the RAMC, but we all serve side by side in the AMS and as nurses irrespective of our individual Corps histories, badges, and accoutrements, we still do the same job, a nurse is a nurse! I was asked how we should deal with the diehards, and I said, those currently opposed to the transfer should be listened to, acknowledging their concerns, recognising that it is difficult to adapt to change and correct any misunderstandings and reinforce the positives in terms of career progression etc.

Jokes about the QARANC nurses were abundant and strong and at times angry opinions were voiced from some loyal and long serving RAMC male nurses. I’m sure this significant change happened on 1st April 1992 which either was to reflect the new tax year or April Fool’s Day!

I heard stories of RAMC nurses handing in their old cap badges to the hospital CO and collecting a QARANC cap badge from the Matron, I think this was at CMH. I guess if true this a way of was marking the occasion.

I was successful in gaining my commission and the rest is history as they, I believe I personally benefitted from this change, as I had full and rewarding career. That said I did have a little bottom lip quiver when I was handed my AMS full rugby colours and it came with QARANC blazer badge (see pic)!

Lt Col (Rtd)  Rodney Eldridge 

A QARANC tale about what went bump in the night by Lynne Jones

I was born in Scotland in the early 1950’s and raised in both the UK & Canada. In 1971, at age 19 and at loose ends, I left Vancouver for Scotland with no particular plan in mind.

I was told about the QARANC: full pay as a Private; no costs; world travel; paid holiday trips back to Scotland; a paid trip back to Canada every 2 years; army officer in 4 years. Who could resist? I signed up. 13 of us travelled from Aldershot to the Queen Alexandra Military Hospital in London, located around the corner from the Tate. In addition to functioning as a military hospital, it also specialized in providing medical and nursing care for British soldiers and (women) spouses worldwide, who required the cancer treatments offered in London civilian hospitals. As such, we were learned of rare forms of cancer and their treatments.

There were intakes of new SRN (State Registered Nurse) students every 3 months; the hospital was primarily staffed by these students, with a nursing sister and a staff nurse on each ward. After 6 weeks of basic training, we were fully integrated into the wards. The training & experience were excellent; every student nurse senior to you was responsible for your performance, and there wasn’t a chance that they were going to be disciplined because of your error! Over nights we worked 14 x 12 hour shifts in a row, with 7 days off following. After 6 months, I was ‘night special’ for the entire hospital and not concerned or afraid. That is how good the training was. You might conclude – she must have completed it! The answer is that I did not; I will get back to that.

All of the single student nurses lived in sex segregated barracks. We 13 lived in a large old Victorian house in Pimlico, where we shared bedrooms. The house was staffed by a civilian housekeeper, with a WRAC Sergeant whose job it was (on her off time from work) to maintain military order, which included the exertion of control over aspects of our personal lives. As such, there was no love lost between us and the Sergeant; I will also get back to that.

What was it like to be a 19 year old Scottish/Canadian student nurse in the QA’s in the early 1970’s? I was most certainly a product of my times both as a young woman socialized in the 1950/60’s, and my dual experience as a Scot and a Canadian. How did it show itself? In two ways: one specific to my dual upbringing, and one common to young women of that era.

First off, apparently from the perspective of the army nursing instructor, I was a “a big mouth from the colonies” who did not know her place whatsoever. Then again, perhaps my reaction to learning that the QA student nurses had a curfew while the RAMC student nurses did not, had something to do with her opinion? When I brazenly expressed my disbelief and shock, the Major responded “Well Lynn, when British parents send their daughters to the QARANC, they expect them to be kept safe”. My 19 years old colonial self responded, “Then they should keep them at home!”. This was not deemed to be an acceptable response from a Private to a Major, and it set myself and the Major on a rocky interpersonal road. Nonetheless, she was a consummate professional, and our ongoing interpersonal dynamic did not impact my training, nor her positive reviews of my nursing practice.

Second, I was most definitely a product of the times, which for girls and women meant a pink collar ‘service to others’ job, with the requisite laser focus on romance and then marriage, as the GOAL. How did this show itself within my QA experience? We started out as 13 students, with only 2 going on to graduate as SRN’s. The rest fell victim to the times.

In addition to a daily 11pm curfew, a key part of the army’s attempt to keep us ‘vulnerable young things safe', while maintaining both military order & socially prescribed decorum and control, was that male guests were strictly forbidden from entering the house. But…and you might guess it….it wasn’t unusual for male guests to visit us…. overnight…. and in our shared bedrooms to boot! As well, the Sergeant’s overnight guests were not infrequently found wandering the hallway in search of the loo. This was to be her downfall.

Here’s what happened. The first of us fell prey to the lure of marriage; this required a celebration; off we all went to a pub, trooping in at 11:20, to be met by an extremely irate Sergeant who lorded it over us and threatened us with a charge. Up we went in front of Matron, with revenge in our collective mind. Side stepping the issue of being late for curfew, we quivered in our boots, crocodile tears running down our faces as we relayed how terrified we all were, with Sergeant’s men friends frequently wandering the halls of the house during the night! Matron, steely eyed, demanded to know why we had not spoken of this previously!!! We vulnerable young things stammered that ‘we were just too afraid’.  

Within the week, the Sergeant silently and unexpectedly departed for Germany. No charges followed for the QA student nurses.

For myself, I too soon fell prey to my 1950/60’s socialization, married an RAMC student nurse, and as was allowed only for women at the time of marriage, chose to leave – one of life’s BIG regrets! In 1976 when my then husband was able to leave the army, we emigrated to Vancouver. 

With 2 young children, I then went on to university, and am a semi retired Master of Social Work. I have 3 grandchildren and live with my partner of 20 years – a woman – in British Columbia. I have never forgotten my training and I have not returned to the UK since. One day - hopefully soon….

Jurassic Coast Branch Chair at an Indian Wedding by Marjorie Bandy

On New Year’s Eve 2022 I travelled to India to be a guest at a wedding. The sister of one of my friends Clinta was getting married. So why was I invited? A couple of year ago Clinta asked me if I could help her sister Catherine to improve her English as she wanted to move to Canada. With the help of WhatsApp and email we started on “lessons “ once a week, starting with just conversation and progressing to written work with me setting her homework. We started off with a simple thank you letter and over months progressed to her writing short stories. For anyone who knows me you won’t be surprised to read that I sent her work back complete with red ink corrections! It paid off and she passed the exams. She always promised that I would be invited to her wedding

In India unmarried women rarely ever venture out alone or with friends and so have little opportunity to meet members of the opposite sex. Arranged marriage is therefore the norm. At the end of November Catherine sent me a picture of her with a very handsome man with the announcement “ we are getting engaged.” The handsome young man is Akhil who lives on Canada but was home in Kerala specifically to get married. The regulations for taking a wife to Canada meant that the wedding was set for 2nd and 4th January. Initially it seemed that I would not be able to go as getting a visa for India for anyone from the UK is very difficult and usually takes months to arrange. Suddenly in mid-December the rules changed and I was able to apply of an e-visa. All I needed now was a plane ticket. The Jurassic Coast branch to the rescue as Pauline Stow’s son-in-law runs a personalised travel agency. Sorted.

Now for the packing. I had been warned that I would be wearing a Sari for the first ceremony but was specifically asked to look like an English guest complete with large hat for the second. My hand luggage contained little more than said hat.

I flew to Cochin in Kerala State which is predominately Christian and Romain Catholic. The family made me very welcome, and I stayed with a family member. I arrived Sunday and spent Monday getting the necessary jewellery for my sari experience and having the bouse made. The sari colour had already been chosen for me. Next day was the engagement ceremony which took place in the Parish church of the bride. For this the bride and her immediate family all wore the same colour, a rich burgundy. This service is the responsibility of the bride’s family and is followed by a meal and then all of the groom’s family come back to the bride’s house for tea and a piece of cake. This welcomes the joining of the two families. After that the groom and his family leave and we the bride’s side have a party. I asked why the engagement happens in church and Clinta explained that as all marriages are arranged the priest will ask both bride and groom whether they really want this marriage. Church is a safe environment should this be a forced marriage. 

Getting ready for this first event was an experience. A beautician arrived to get me ready, very professional makeup and then I was “dressed” in my sari. I certainly couldn’t have done it myself. Despite wearing the same as everyone else with my blonde hair I hardly blended in.

Wednesday was a rest day albeit I was taken on a sightseeing day.

Thursday was the actual wedding ceremony and unlike here, the Wedding Day is the responsibility of the groom’s family and takes place in their parish church. For this I was able to dress myself. The hat proved to cause a lot of excitement and I can honestly say I have never had my photograph taken so often and with people I didn’t know. 

The bride and groom walk into church together followed by both sets of immediate family, the groom’s mother carrying a basket of gifts, one of which is a sari, and the bride after the service, changes out of her white dress into this. 

After the 1 ½ hour Nuptial Mass [of which I understood not one word] we went to the groom’s family house. After prayers at the entrance and the handing over of the dowry we were all invited in to again have tea and cake. Catherine arriving on the back of Akhil’s motorbike sitting side saddle in white dress and veil and an escort of about 20 bikes of Akhil’s friends. After this we went on to the reception.

After the wedding I had a 3 day escorted trip around Kerala enjoying a peaceful day on a lake houseboat and then up to the hills around Munnar to see the tea plantations and ending in Cochin and the wonderful houses now hotels from the time that India was part of Empire before returning to the airport and a return to wet and windy Weymouth.

Lt Col (Rtd) Marjorie Bandy RRC

Christmas Memories

On my first Christmas Day in the Army (1989) I had an experience that resembled that of BBC programme, The Vicar of Dibley, when the village vicar was invited to so many lunches that she almost burst.  

I was the Theatre Sister on call at the Queen Elizabeth Military Hospital, Woolwich. After a busy Christmas Eve we had no cases booked on Christmas Day. It was customary for staff with no patients to look after to visit the wards. During the morning I strolled around the wards, mingled with patients and staff and enjoyed the odd mince pie or two. As lunch arrived, despite my protestations that I was having lunch later, one of the ward sisters insisted that I join staff and patients to share the feast. The Army chefs as usual exceeded themselves to make Christmas for those in hospital as enjoyable as possible. I duly joined in, helping myself to the smallest portions I could get away with.

 
On leaving the ward I made my way to Matron's married quarter for a pre-arranged invitation for the living in nurses. I was expecting this gathering to be drinks and snacks but was horrified when a chef turned up with a hostess trolley and proceeded to serve up a full lunch! Again, I attempted to eat as little as was politely acceptable. 

Luckily there was a short interlude before the next intake of food. A group of six of us had planned a late Christmas lunch in one of our flats in the Woolwich Officers Mess for a couple of nurses who were on night duty. This was a full on three course event followed by stilton cheese and port. 

You might think that was as much festive food as anyone could partake of in one day, but no, that evening we were invited to the Commanding Officer's quarters for drinks, games and, you guessed it, more food. I was willing my bleep to go off and save me!

Vast amounts of food aside, the day was memorable for the team work, camaraderie and warmth that was extended to everyone, be they patients or staff, who may not have been spending the Christmas period how they would have chosen.

Moira Dixson (née Horsfall) 

A favourite Christmas memory from my Army nursing days was when I was doing a post-registration course at the Hospital for Sick Children, Great Ormond Street, 1972. On Christmas Eve, a group of us walked from the hospital to St Martin in the Fields for the Midnight Communion service. A cold night, but with pride we walked in our uniforms with our long capes worn inside out with the scarlet lining on show. At the service it was lovely to see other hospitals represented in the same way. A joyful start to Christmas!

Katherine Varden (née Annett)  

1989 and I was selected to attend the Carol Service at the Guards Chapel London, for a televised BBC Songs of Praise. I love singing but have to confess I haven't got a great voice, so thank goodness we didn't have to audition. My family recorded the BBC programme and the camera did rest on my face for a while, so I obviously looked the part! I did feel very proud in my uniform.  We were treated like special guests.

Jan Westbury

My First Cenotaph Parade 2022 by Eileen Nolan

 

I don’t know if any of my relatives ever paid the ultimate price for their country as it was not something ever talked about in our family and now there is no-one left to ask. I know my husband’s uncle was a Japanese POW and suffered dreadfully in what he saw and what he experienced. Thankfully he came home and eventually became a Chelsea Pensioner. We had the privilege of visiting him at the Royal Hospital in the 1980s and meeting other veterans.

What I also know is that two of my brothers and three nephews spent careers in the army and all have seen action in conflict zones including Northern Ireland, the Gulf wars and Afghanistan. Thank God they have all come home but again, it is not something they talk about. Personally, I never went to any conflict zones but I did nurse soldiers who were “casevaced” back to the UK following some dreadful injuries sustained whilst serving their country.

I always watched the Remembrance Sunday Parade with respect for those who did pay the ultimate price and for those taking part. It never crossed my mind however, that I might take part myself until four years ago when my brother told me that he had been accepted to take part in the parade. My heart burst with pride for him and I looked forward to trying to find him as he marched past the Cenotaph. Unfortunately, he was very unwell on the day and was not able to take part and he doesn’t believe he will be fit enough now to ever do it.

From then on, I felt I needed to take part for him and on behalf of my wider family. Things got a bit delayed with Covid but I decided 2022 was going to be my year!

The application process was easy enough but then it’s a waiting game. Numbers have been greatly reduced since Covid and I knew there was no guarantee I would get a place. When the email came through confirming I had been accepted, I was so excited.

In preparation, I took advice from other members of the QA Association who had marched in the past. I was advised to wrap up warm and wear good shoes as I would be standing about for hours. I also realised that I needed to get a beret and a Corps scarf. When my beret arrived, I tried it on….lets face it, I never suited my beret when I was 18 and trust me, I still don’t suit it now at 66! But then again, they are not designed to be a fashion accessory.

The big day eventually arrived and I made my way to Charing Cross station. I had an idea of where I was going but if I had any doubt, I realised I just needed to follow the other berets! I joined the queue at Admiralty Arch at 08.10 and the place was buzzing. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know anyone in the queue as everybody was talking to everybody. Old friends were meeting up and new friends being made.

Once the gates opened, I quickly found B39 where 2 other QA veterans were already waiting. Soon we were 28 and for most of us, it was our first time taking part. Although I didn’t meet anyone I knew, it didn’t matter as everyone was chatting and reminiscing about their time with the QAs. The sense of camaraderie and belonging was palpable.

Yes, we were standing around but time did fly by. The next time I looked up, Horse Guards Parade was packed with thousands of veterans. Everyone was very respectful and it was moving to see the Chelsea Pensioners arrive and the applause which greeted them.

We had to ensure we were in our columns and ready to march out of the parade ground at 10.00. For some reason, I thought we would get more instruction than we did but after we were asked for volunteers to be drill leader and wreath bearer, we were simply told rows of 5. Column B led the parade this year so we were the first into Whitehall. I was shocked at the number of members of the public just outside the parade ground and the amount of clapping and cheering that went up for every contingent as they emerged into Whitehall.

Again, we waited in Whitehall for ages just chatting amongst ourselves and with members of the public. At this stage, I had the honour of meeting Brenda. She had joined the QAs as a trained nurse in 1952 and at the age of 93, decided she would like to take part in the March Past. It was wonderful to listen to her story of her life in the QAs back then.

While we waited, we couldn’t see the Cenotaph and there were 38 contingents in front of us so we didn’t really know how far away we were. We did have a large TV screen beside us so we could see what was going on up ahead and were able to see King Charles III place his wreath.

While we were waiting and watching the screen, there was a bit of a commotion right beside us and when we turned to see what was going on, an urban fox appeared from behind the railings. It sauntered up and down beside us as if inspecting the ranks and virtually posed for photographs! It probably wondered what on earth was disturbing his Sunday morning. It stayed with us for several minutes before disappearing again.

When all the dignitaries had laid their wreaths, we could see the March Past begin on the TV screen and then suddenly we were off!

I have to say that our marching left a lot to be desired at first! Afterall, it had been many years since most of us had marched anywhere…48 years in my case! What didn’t help was that although our drill leader was calling instruction, we were a small contingent and we could hear clearly all the other instructions being given by all the other drill leaders who were often on a different foot from us! After a couple of minutes, our drill instructor changed and left us in no doubt which foot we should be on! Things improved after that…she had clearly done this before!

It was an incredible experience going past the Cenotaph with all the poppy wreaths on one side and then the Salute being taken by Prince Edward on the other side. As we marched, members of the public cheered and clapped and I do believe the cheering got louder when the QAs went past!

As we arrived back into Horse Guards Parade, there was what seemed like a guard of honour with serving soldiers and volunteers clapping and cheering the veterans as they arrived back onto the parade ground. It was a very moving experience.

After the parade, photographs were taken, new friends shared contact details and we prepared to make our way home.

I believe that remembrance is a very personal thing. It is right that the nation formally remembers those who have paid the ultimate price but I also think about those who have served and seen action in conflict many of whom continue to live with their experiences every day and may never be the same.

On reflection of taking part in the Cenotaph Parade, I take away how moving the whole experience was and the respect in which I believe our Armed Services are held. I am proud to have taken part and I will remember the day always.

May the annual parade always continue……….Lest We Forget.


Eileen Nolan – CMH 74-75
BMH Rinteln 1975-1977
Royal Herbert/QEMH 1977-1978