Chapter Eight

It was some months later, in May 1944 that I met my future husband. His father owned the Stanmore Riding School, one of the finest in Britain. At that time, all Officers were encouraged to organise a “Wings for Victory” event. The idea was to encourage the public to invest in Savings Stamps for Loan Certificates to pay for the war effort. My “B” Watch decided to run a garden party in the grounds of Hill House, a property taken over for use as the Filter Room, with a large garden and a lake surrounding a small island.

     I was appointed organiser and the public were to be invited. No activity offered would cost them a penny as they would receive a National Savings stamp for every entry fee paid. This, we hoped, would encourage them to save and would provide Government funds for supplies to our Forces. We secured prizes from local businesses, all of whom were most generous and generally we received great help from the local community.

     One of the activities suggested was pony rides so I approached Captain Younghusband and asked if he would provide a couple of reliable ponies and two stable girls to help. As an ex-Cavalry Officer, he was more than willing to co-operate. The event was a great success and “B” Watch won the prize of a £500 Savings Certificate. We decided to donate it to the children of an aircrew member who had recently been killed. The Blue Coat School in Kent was educating a boy and a girl, who had lost their father, a Sergeant Pilot of Fighter Command. We made contact with these children and “B” Watch adopted them for the period of the war. These are two more people whose lives were briefly intermingled with mine. I often wonder what their future was.

     After our successful garden party, I returned one afternoon to thank Captain Younghusband for his cooperation and to tell him of our success.  It was that day I met his son Peter who also was serving in the RAF. He ran the station dance orchestra at RAF Northolt as well as his other duties. He persuaded me to book his band for one of our Mess parties and we became friends. I was invited to swim in the lakes in his father’s grounds and before long our friendship turned into something more. We became engaged and then we married, barely five months after meeting. Did we rush into it? I often wonder. We didn’t know each other at all. This is how it was; no-one knew what tomorrow would bring. You grabbed happiness when you found it.

      It was during the early summer of that year that Hitler launched the first of his secret weapons known as the V1, a pilotless aircraft that was ejected from underground ramps in the Pas de Calais area. Hundreds of them flew over the Kent coast. These weapons had an unforgettably threatening sound. When the sound cut out, beware! It would fall to earth and explode, killing many and causing immense damage. London once more was the butt of these fearsome weapons but as their reliability was often suspect, many landed on outlying districts and no-one was safe. The coastal artillery shot down many as they crossed into Kent on their pre-destined course and the Fighter crews shot down many more. Some pilots would tip the wing of the V1, causing it to crash in open countryside or over the Channel but thousands more reached London and caused panic and death in their wake.

     Our Filter Room was increasingly busy, tracking these devilish craft. We would come off duty totally exhausted but hyped up with the strain. Sometimes, we were semi-hysterical and found it impossible to sleep but we had to keep going. No-one gave in. In late August of that year, we were warned of a second secret weapon; we were given no details but told to listen out for the code word BIG BEN. Our plotters would receive this from one of the RADAR stations. On September 8th, 1944, I was on a day time duty when my Bawdsey plotter called out the code word for the first time. My orders were to stand on a chair and shout out “BIG BEN” three times. The whole room sprang to life, not knowing what to expect. That was the day the first V2 rocket was launched against Britain, landing in Chiswick and causing immense damage. From that day many more were launched, over 1,000 in all. One later landed opposite our home in Winchmore Hill causing my mother to receive considerable blast damage which we often wondered whether it was the cause of her later illness. It was impossible to hear them, the fear they instilled in Londoners was horrific.

     Meanwhile the Allied troops had landed in Normandy and were pushing forward, liberating France and moving into Belgium. Peter and I married on September 30th 1944, and managed to organise a happy reception for many friends and family members. Providing the food proved quite a challenge. Peter’s family fortunately kept chickens and a cow and family members gave up their precious ration coupons to provide dried fruit and other ingredients for the wedding cake. The Head Chef of No.1 RAF Officers’ Mess offered to make this for me and produced a spectacular three-tier cake.

A Swift Engagement

Bridging the Centuries 

By Eileen Younghusband

Due to clothes rationing, I had to beg coupons for the material for my dress. Elaine Garrard, one of my fellow officers, made it for me. She eventually made her name in the fashion industry and ended up as a Director of Courtaulds. Many of the presents we received were antiques and objects belonging to the guests. We were specially honoured when Sir Frederick Handley Page, the aircraft tycoon,

gave up his coupons and provided us with two handsome woollen blankets which I have to this day. Even the venue for the reception was a present from one of the Riding School clientele. Somehow a tasty buffet appeared, with contributions from friends and family from their limited supplies of rations. The day of the wedding, September 30th, I was on duty until midday, and then had lunch in the Mess before arriving at the church at 3.30pm. I remember clearly what my lunch was – brown stew followed by apples and custard.

     The ceremony was in a Catholic Church as Peter’s mother and both her sons were brought up in that faith. When I first met Canon Goggin prior to the ceremony, he asked me my name. When I replied ‘Eileen Le Croissette’, he smiled and immediately said ‘Ah one of us!’  ‘No’, I immediately replied, ‘My family were Huguenots. We were persecuted after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes. That’s when we came to Britain!’ He never tried converting me after that. We managed a brief three day honeymoon at the Old Place Hotel in Rottingdean, Sussex and then it was back on duty for both of us. Peter and I saw little of each other. Our times off duty rarely coincided.