Evening star., 1942-09-06

of Britain's Auxiliary Transport Service,
the ATS" Originally they were an
ancilliary service to the army, driving
officers cars, doing fatigue in camps and
offices. cooking and clerical work.
Now, as Britain nears the end of her
reserves of manpower, the ATS are on
the firing line. Recruited from homes
non essential factories, farms, they do
everything in this battery but load and
fire the guns-they'd like to do that,
too-and hard-bitten old sergeant of
the Royal Artillery admitted, They're
every bit as good as men,"
Almost all the intricate machinery
which assists the aiming of the 3.7-inch
guns is handled by the girls. This in
cludes the radiolocation apparatus, the
delicate, sensitive machine which puts
the finger on German raiders approach
ing London.
Early this month mixed battery on
the east coast shot down three of six
German bombers destroyed over Britain
in a 48-hour period This London out
fit hadn't bagged German yet, but
they were hopeful.
There Is no hint of masquerade or pa
rading in uniform to show their patriot
ism among these girls and women
Around the gun site each one has the
same standing as men of equal rank
Their barracks are fixed up very lady
like" sergeant and confirmed bachelor
tal h,Yf Ut troo ord
exactly as men.
Direct Gun Crews.
Below ground the most intricate bits
of machinery are housed in grim, utili-
tartan room with Thompson submachine
guns and rifles along the walls. Girls
at telephone heard reports of watchers
along the coasts. They plotted the loca-
ton of enemy planes on charts. They
gave directions to the gun crews and
transmitted orders.
Up on the gun site the wind was gale
whipping the rain before it. An ATS
Happen he'll COON over tonight behind
clouds"
The girls, their trench helmets on the
back of their heads, their overcoats but
toned tight, were working the big pre-
dictor In practice run through" under
which conditions of a raid were simu-
lated. They do this three or four times
each night.
AS the big machine swung they moved
with it, chanting the strange, cabaEstc
numbers which are the ritual of modern
warfare. Their faces, lit by the lights
on the Projectors dials, were set and
concentrated
You could hear men grunting as they
loaded dummy shells and, dimly against
the fading light you saw the noses Of
the guns moving to the commands Of the
girls on the Projectors.
The External Feminine.
After the run through" the girls stood
at ease for moment, and Immediately
their hands moved to rearrange their
hair under the heavy steel helmets.
One of the girls had been servant
In Yorkshire. II had choice of Joining
the ATS or working in a munitions fac
tory" she said. 1--WE a boy out in India
with light anti-aircraft battery and it
seemed nicer If I could be something
like the work he's doing"
Another girl said, This work seems
more useful. We take the places of men
and they can go onto firing line"
I asked her what she thought she was
on now
"Oh, this doesn't count much. It's not
as bad here as just sitting around home
listening TO bombs drop"
These gils would all 90 overseas on
service if they had the chance. "That'd
leave only my little sister with mum and
dad" said one, "but that's nothing. Some
families nave six people serving over
seas"
AL of them want to fire the guns
"Why not?" one asked. Women do that
and more, too, IN Russia. We take the
same chances in this war as men. Why
can't we nit back, too?"
Little Romance Seen.
I asked the battery commander how
the women and the men get along They
are friendly and companionable," but
that's about ALL
Most of these men have been in the
Army only year or so. They're fel-
lows of about 35 or 36, married and set
tied down. They like the girls, but they
spend most of the time writing their
wives"
Alice Greenfield guided me through
the guards to the gate. She has two