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feelin’ like this. None of it seems right.’
    He had not understood at all. And now all those thoughts and ideas of hers seemed stupid too. The RAF didn’t want them here, except to whistle at and laugh about. Ken had been right. They’d never let her near theaeroplanes. She might as well have stayed in Elmbury. She needn’t have married Ken just yet, not ’til they could have a place of their own, but she could have gone on helping at home and on the farm. Dad only had old Jack with his rheumatism now. She thought of her little attic room. If she were there now she’d be able to hear Mum and Dad moving about downstairs. She’d hear the creak of Dad’s heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs as he trudged up to bed, Mum’s lighter tread, their door latch clicking, their voices in the room below. She’d be able to hear Gran snoring, maybe Ruth or Laura calling out, the mice pattering in the wainscot, Rusty barking in his kennel in the stackyard below . . .
    Thinking about it all was Winnie’s undoing. Her throat tightened with wretchedness and she turned her face into the bolster and wept.
    Felicity Newman was awake in her room in empty warrant officers’ married quarters. Sleep was impossible. There was too much to think about. Too much to worry about. The conditions for the recruits were far from satisfactory – damp and leaking sleeping quarters, sordid ablutions, no proper mess of their own, a recreation hut with almost no furnishings at all, let alone comforts, a bleak little backroom in the NAAFI . . . In her notes for guidance it stated clearly that a WAAF officer was responsible for procuring the best living conditions available for the airwomen in her charge.
Officers will, in all cases, consider the health of airwomen and give special attention to cleanliness, sanitation, fresh air, adequate space, recreational facilities
 . . . She herself had been as segregated from the RAF officers as the airwomen had been from the airmen, her meals served in the Ladies’ Room of the Officers’ Mess, while Sergeant Beaty had been isolated in some far corner of the Sergeants’ Mess.
You will form an integral and vital part of that great Service
. . .
    She had enjoyed her officers’ training course – theinteresting lectures, the drill, the companionship – and she had not seriously doubted her ability to do the job; until now. She re-lived her interview with Wing Commander Palmer, seeing again his icy stare and hearing his harsh voice.
Just exactly what are you women supposed to be doing here, Company Assistant Newman? Perhaps you can explain that to me
. She had been as timid and nervous as a school girl and the Wing Officer would have been sadly disappointed in her.
The duty of a WAAF officer is to ensure co-ordination between the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force and the Royal Air Force . . . to act as an adviser on WAAF matters to the Station Commander . . . I will not tolerate any interference with the efficient running of RAF Colston
 . . . She had been equally green and ineffectual with the airwomen, allowing all that giggling to go on unchecked.
WAAF officers will be responsible for maintaining discipline in their detachments
 . . . And what on earth was to be done about their clothes?
Smart appearance is the first step towards smart discipline
 . . . But the fact remained that there was no uniform at all available for the recruits. None. And no prospect of any coming soon. She had had her own privately tailored.
The WAAF officer must make herself responsible to the Royal Air Force Commanding Officer for the efficiency, discipline, well-being and training of WAAF personnel under his command . . . I did not ask for you. I do not want you. I do not believe that your place is here, or that you could possibly replace my men
. . .
    A heavy