In the summer of 1944 Kathleen Oates - a Wren assigned to the Women's Royal Naval Service during the Second World War - was transferred to the Isle of Man. During her time on the island, she wrote dozens of letters to home which provide a unique commentary on the operations at Ronaldsway and what life was like on the Isle of Man 80 years ago. Her daughter, CHRISTINE SMITH, pores through her mother’s letters as part of a series of columns based on Kathleen Oates’s writing...

Eighty years ago this week, Kathleen Oates turned 22. She wrote of her presents and two very different outings with colleagues: one was with a new Leading Wren, and the other looked suspiciously like a date with her soon-to-be former boss, Lt Whiteaker.

Kathleen was not on duty on her birthday, Saturday, October 21, and was using the time before the 1:48 pm train to Douglas. She wrote with thanks, listing her presents: her sister Dorothy sent the stockings she had requested; both Granny and her parents each sent a ‘lovely new £1 note’—not inconsiderable when her salary was under £2 a week. The celebratory plan was to go to Douglas with friend Jane, who was looking to buy a coat; they would have tea there ‘and go to the flicks or a dance.’

A second letter that week finished the tale of Kathleen’s birthday. Jane’s search for a tweed overcoat drew a blank: ‘supplies are terribly poor here.’ They went on to the attractive dance hall, the Palais, in the evening but found it crowded and full of Naval Ratings. ‘The few O.T.C.U. [Officer Cadet Training Unit] who were there were very poor specimens.’

Back at Ronaldsway, she shared her homemade cake with the Cabin girls (whose presents included French knickers). Kathleen marveled to Mum Elsie at the quantity of fruit in the cake. She wrote of her plan to return the tin box it came in but regretted being unable to fill it with chocolate the way she could have done when at Liverpool’s Gladstone Docks.

October 20 was Kathleen’s half-day: the new leading W/T [wireless transmitter] Wren, Olivia Thompson, invited her for lunch in Castletown. ‘She is very good at her job—in charge of the Wren operators on the W/T sets which call up the planes and ships. We had a lovely lunch for 2/6d—boiled and baked potatoes, lamb and mint sauce, carrots and turnip. This was preceded by lovely milky soup—then we finished with apple tart and coffee. We returned to camp about 3 pm, and I stayed in for the remainder of the evening… Olivia wants to go to sea after the war as a radio operator—she’s been to the P&O office in London to see.’

Quite a different outing occurred with another superior, however. ‘As I’ve said before, Whitey is leaving soon: obviously thinking that he could relax a little of his authority, he asked me to go to Douglas with him and Johnny (one of the Subbys), plus girlfriend. I think he must’ve been feeling sorry for me—I’ve done plenty of grumbling about being fed up with the Isle of Man. Anyway, we had tea (steak and chips), then went to the flicks to see “Lady in the Dark” with Ginger Rogers—don’t go and see it—it was pretty rotten and a very fantastic thing about dreams. After that, I will confess, we went to the Sefton Hotel where I had one gin. There were a lot of the Control Tower people in there, and Tony Capes—a lieutenant who has rung me up several times about flying, the one who got me the flip in the Barracuda [i.e. a ride in a plane]—wandered in with a blonde. Whitey gave me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and said, ‘you’ve had it pal’—they’ve always teased me about him since the flip. We didn’t stay long and had to catch the late train back at 10:15. We had some fun and I enjoyed the change—but for heaven’s sake, don’t worry and think that I’m starting drinking! I haven’t seen Whitey since; one of the Lieutenant Commanders has gone on leave, and he’s having to do his job.’ Her tone was apologetic, as Mum Elsie was a strict Methodist and could only be cajoled into a pub, decades later, on the understanding that the vicar was in the bar.

Work was not mentioned in detail, other than that it continued to be pleasant and interesting. ‘At one time in the Ops Room the other night, I counted 2 Commanders, 2 Lieutenant Commanders, 3 Lieutenants and 1 Sub-Lieutenant and myself. They were yarning, and I was listening—between work. Last night they were on about when the Squadrons were operating in North Africa.’ Just as she appreciated her colleagues, they appreciated her: she told her family, ‘You’d laugh!!—One of the little subbies has started changing his watches so that he’s on with me—tells me I’m so cheery, full of life and vivacious!! Do you recognise me?—Needless to say, I can’t get my hat on now!’

Kathleen enclosed a letter from an old Leicester school friend, in which she was asked, ‘do you like the Isle of Man, and can you get about easily to see it? The girls on my job who were stationed over there loved it—there was just no place as good as the Isle of Man.’ She also quoted another letter from a Wren who had been in Liverpool with her but who had since been drafted to a remote station in Scotland, Achnasheen, spending her days in a joiner’s workshop and forcibly becoming accustomed to a much quieter pace of life, with a 10 pm pipe down and the nearest hotel miles away being out of bounds.

It was possibly reflections like these that prompted Kathleen to look more to keeping herself busy instead of grumbling. She wrote that she had ‘bought some material to make a nightdress. One of the girls in the cabin has just finished one. She’s going to cut it out for me from her pattern, then show me how to make it. I’ll let you know how things develop—the idea of staying in and sewing is rather amusing.’ She added towards the end of the letter, ‘nothing to report—except perhaps that my nightdress has been cut out, and on the first evening when Jane and I are in together, I’ll start stitching! So if you see me come on leave in a nightdress one day, you’ll know it’s because I’m so proud of my achievement! I wonder if the “services” are going to domesticate me at last?’

Furthermore, on October 25, Kathleen wrote of a new entertainment: that night, she and other Wrens would attend ‘Music Circle’—listening to gramophone records of symphonies and operas, with transport taking them down from Ballasalla to the Castletown Camp for this.

She signed off exuberantly, ‘Kay, aged 22!!’