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...

This week 80 years ago, Wren Kathleen Oates’s relationship with the Isle of Man was developing and consolidating; importantly, she was still happy in her work.

She continued to evaluate all aspects of her experience on the island, as she had clearly been given the impression that her time there might be limited if she chose so. Plotters were in the minority among Wrens: Kathleen’s Higher School Certificate distinction in geometry had been a factor allowing her to change her role from “Writer” to “Plotter”. Even her category badge was often not recognized by other Naval personnel.

‘A Plotter’s badge is very unusual and not often seen and there aren’t many Plotters,’ she remarked. On an afternoon in Douglas, ‘three different sailors hesitatingly asked me what it was for – one in the YMCA, one in the café, and one at the dance. In Liverpool, we were always being stopped and asked what we were.’

Hence, all the analysis of how she felt in her job and her questioning if she could become accustomed to a different existence from Liverpool’s city life and even the bustle of her hometown, Leicester. ‘I’ve been awfully lucky here really – all I do all day is have quite an easy time talking to the gold braid [i.e. officers]! I’m the only Wren along with one Wren officer (the other has gone to another department) – two lieutenants and all sorts of visitors. I’ve never been treated so decently anywhere else as I have here. If it wasn’t for nothing to do in the evenings, I’d really like it.’

The atmosphere at work was very pleasant, although possibly not very demanding, and she vacillated over her decision. ‘I can still change my mind and stay if I want to – but the Plotting Room won’t be ready until Christmas at the earliest.’

However, she wasn’t above complaining about aspects of camp life she didn’t approve of: ‘I was working all day Sunday as usual, that is, after divisions in the morning. I hate those divisions – standing for ages while the Captain inspects, then being marched in front of him and all the officers like a lot of sheep! All this takes place on the airfield and looks quite impressive – the green grass going down to the blue sea – really lovely.’ What began as a complaint ended up in praise of her surroundings, illustrating her dilemma over whether to stay or go.

Kathleen continued to enjoy exploring the island: ‘I take advantage of every nice evening and go out on my cycle, but now that daylight is decreasing, that will soon be stopped. It’s really very beautiful here – and I do love the island itself.’

She didn’t do much at the weekend with her free Saturday afternoon as the weather wasn’t too good, so she went to the YWCA, sat in an armchair, and read all afternoon. In the evening, she washed her hair. As the base developed, there would be organized activities, but in these early stages, the Wrens were left to their own devices. ‘I don’t feel like writing letters as often as I used to because I’ve nothing to write about… Two beautiful “Flying Fortresses” landed here the other day. A whole crowd of Americans tumbled out – I wish they’d send an American Squadron here just to brighten up the place.’

She reported news from the Wrens she had left behind in Liverpool, but there were no signs that she regretted moving on from there: ‘Work is still very elusive in the NAT [Liverpool’s Night Attack Training, where she had previously worked] and there are plenty of “make do and mends”. The place is just as freezingly cold as it always was. Gladys is getting married in October, if fiancé Bob gets his leave when the carrier on which he is serving comes in for a refit. She’s stopped going out with Americans and is occupying herself by collecting her trousseau! Nearly all the Americans have left Waterloo, leaving these Italians who are now fighting for us – all the girls [her Wren colleagues] seem very disgusted with that! They say the local [civilian] girls are fraternising – but so far, the Wrens are too disgusted to cooperate.’

Happily, Kathleen’s next letter home would have a lot more news, as she excitedly described her first-ever flight in a plane.