How the Girl Guides Won the War
JANIE HAMPTON
How the Girl Guides Won the War
To my mother, who throughout her long life as both
a Guide and a Brown Owl, has demonstrated that
keeping to the rules is not nearly as
important as Robert Baden-Powell’s maxim:
‘I wouldn’t give tuppence for you if you are not jolly and laughing.’
Contents
Cover
Title page
Illustrations
Introduction
Prologue: Pax Ting
1 We are the Girl Scouts
2 Brownies and Bluebirds
3 Marching in Gas Masks
4 Kinder-Guides
5 Golondrinas
6 The Clover Union of Poland
7 Blackout Blues
8 Dampers and Doodlebugs
9 Brownies in China
10 Thrift and Gift
11 Princesses and Paupers
12 Baedeker Bombing
13 Jersey Island Guides
14 Japanese Internment
15 The Warsaw Uprising
16 Three Aunties
17 Guides in Auschwitz
18 Giant Pandas and Frozen Alligators
19 The City of Polish Children
20 The Armored Angel of China
21 The Army of Goodwill
22 Into the Twenty-First Century
Acknowledgements
Bibliography and Sources
Index
Copyright
About the Publisher
Illustrations
Robert Baden-Powell talking to the first Girl Guides in Brighton, 1910. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guide messengers at the Peace Conference, Versailles, 1919. (© Daily Mail)
Olave Baden-Powell, with Brownies at the Essex County Rally in 1921. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guides enjoying an excursion on the Danube during the Pax Ting International Camp in Hungary, August 1939. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guides helping at a club for evacuees in the Corn Exchange at Bishop’s Stortford in autumn 1939. (© Getty Images)
The 1st Eynsham Brownie Pack on holiday in Swanage in the last week of August 1939. (Private collection)
Guides learning how to use a stirrup pump in 1940. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guides help to run an infant school in Ilford. (© Getty Images)
Guides bathing an evacuee child. (© Girlguiding UK)
The vicar of Claybury Park, Ilford, Essex asked Guides to run a nursery in his church hall, 1940. (© Girlguiding UK)
Olga Malkowska being presented with the Bronze Cross by Queen Elizabeth in December 1939. (© Getty Images)
Brownies of the 21st Glasgow Brownie Pack, at the Glasgow School for the Deaf, meet a real Brown Owl. (© Girlguiding UK)
Cockley Cley Kindertransport Guides in Norfolk, 1940. (© Sir Samuel Roberts)
An Extension Guide taking her fire-lighting test in hospital in 1943. (© Girlguiding UK)
The 1st Littleport Company collecting waste paper in Cambridgeshire in 1940. (© Girlguiding UK)
Maps hidden inside the cotton reels collected by Brownies for MI9. (© Trustees of the Royal Air Force Museum, X003-6003/017)
Guides and Rangers roll up their bedding at the end of camp. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guides cleaning their teeth beside the latrine at Luccombe Camp, Isle of Wight, 1944. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guides of the 1st Disley Company near Manchester welcome refugee children from Guernsey on their arrival in June 1940. (© Allied Newspapers Manchester)
A Guide carrying messages gets directions from a policeman. (© Fox/Getty)
Guides salvaging a wheelchair during the London Blitz. (© Wimbledon Borough News)
The 5th Canterbury Company running a soup kitchen after the bombing of Canterbury, 1 June 1942. (© Getty Images)
The 2nd Gloucester Guide Company cooking sausages after an air raid in 1942. (© Girlguiding UK)
The 1st Cockington Company collecting jam pots around Torquay in 1942. (© Girlguiding UK)
Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret sending a message by carrier pigeon on Thinking Day 1943. (© Girlguiding UK)
The Princess Royal, President of Girl Guides, sending a message by pigeon to the World Chief Guide on Thinking Day, 1943. (© Ross Parry Syndication: Yorkshire Post)
Chefoo Brownies in Weihsien Camp, China, 1943.
The log book of the Kingfisher Patrol of the Chefoo School Guide Company, Weihsien camp, 1943–44. (Private collection)
A woman buys National Savings stamps from a Girl Guide, assisted by a Sea Ranger in 1944. (© Imperial War Museum)
The Guide International Service mobile canteen in Holland, March 1945. (© Girlguiding UK)
Alison Duke of the Guide International Service in a camp for Greek refugees in Egypt in 1944. (© Girlguiding UK)
German girls learning to be Guide leaders on camp, 1948. (© Girlguiding UK)
Guiders from Bromley, Kent, sing at the National Guide Festival in 1972. (© John Warburton)
While every effort has been made to trace the owners of copyright material, the publishers would like to apologise for any omissions and will be pleased to incorporate missing acknowledgements in any future editions.
Introduction
In my mother’s attic is a green school exercise book. ‘Name: Janie Anderson. Subject: Writing. School: St Mary’s. 21.10.1960’. I turned to the first page. ‘Brownies’ was the title. Underneath I’d written:
On the 3rd of November I am going to be enrolled. Brown Owl gave me a paper cat to put a knot on the cat’s string tail when I do a good deed. I have at least sixty knots. I am a Sprite. I know the Brownie promise, law, motto and rymne, and I can plait. I am excited about wearing my Brownie tunick. I do not know wether a Commishner comes to be enrolled or just Brown Owl.
At just eight years old, I already had a sense of the structure of the Brownie movement, and knew that a Commissioner was more important than ‘just Brown Owl’. Fifty years later, I can still remember my promise — ‘I promise to do my best, to do my duty to God and the Queen, to help other people every day, especially those at home’ — and the Brownie song — ‘We’re the Brownies, here’s our aim: Lend a hand and play the game.’
But by the time I was a teenager later in the sixties, the Beatles had arrived and I reckoned that Guides were deeply uncool. Who would choose to wear a uniform, unless it was a Sergeant Pepper fancy dress one? Why would a teenager want to attend meetings punctually, and salute a fat old Captain? I did go to Guides for a year, but at camp in Sussex, Captain got her come-uppance when a ram trotted up behind her and tossed her in the air. She spent the rest of the week lying in her bell tent, moaning. After that, how could I possibly take her seriously?
When I began writing this book, my perspective was that of a flower-child of the 1960s, who shunned uniforms and rules. I intended to write a satire on Guides and Brownies, making fun of Ging-gang-goolies and dyb-dyb-dob, standing for ‘do your best, do our best’. But the more stories I read, and the more former Brownies and Guides I met, the more I came to realise what an important part of twentieth-century history the Guide movement was. Much to my amazement, I saw that Guides had played a crucial part in feminist history and the women’s equality movement. Their achievements, though, have been largely overlooked, their influence for the most part unrecorded.
The feminists of the 1960s and ’70s simply could not see past the blue, pocketed shirts and navy serge skirts of the Guide uniform to the impact these girls had on the lives of Britain’s women. As well as the importance of the work they did, I learned that Guide meetings were an affordable form of further education for girls who had left school at fourteen. I came to realise that the movement’s founder, Lieutenant-General Lord Baden-Powell, was not the old fuddy-duddy I had assumed, but a forward-thinking man who wanted to make a positive difference to the lives of both boys and girls, of every class, in every nation. I also learned that the Guides were never a paramilitary organisation for the Church of England middle-class. There have been companies in factories, hospitals, female Borstals, synagogues and Catholic orphanages. The uniform was designed not to force girls to conform, but to give them a sense of belonging, especially if they had few or no smart clothes.
Mention Girl Guides to many women, and the reaction will be strong. They will tell you either that they loved them or hated them; they were either proud to wear their uniform or refused to join. Once enrolled, they either adored tying knots or couldn’t see the point; revelled in campfire singing or loathed damp canvas tents. They either fell in love with their Captains, or thought they were fascists and sadists. Whatever their feelings, most former Girl Guides retain strong memories of their experiences.
A survey by Girlguiding UK in 2007 found that two-thirds of Britain’s most prominent women have been Guides, and three-quarters of them say they benefited from the experience. Yet few people realise the impact that the foundation of the Guide movement in 1910 had on women’s equality, and on society in general. From the very start, when Robert Baden-Powell asked his sister Agnes to form the Girl Guides, the organisation was separate from the Boy Scouts, and not subservient to them. Baden-Powell died in 1941, but how much has his vision affected the social and political history of feminism in the twentieth century? Nearly twenty years before all British women got the vote, Girl Guides were earning badges for proficiency as Electricians, Cyclists, Surveyors and Telegraphists.
In both world wars, Brownies and Guides took over the jobs of adults. When historians came to write up these wars, they spoke only to adults, who had either not been around or, if they had, were too busy to notice, and thus failed to mention the role of these girls and young women.
The impact of the Guides in World War II is particularly clear. Their activities were not confined to Britain, but also included the Commonwealth, Nazi-occupied Europe and Japanese-occupied Asia. It was World War II that brought the philosophy of the Guides to the fore, and released their skills and training to the benefit of everyone around them.
This book explores how being a Brownie or a Guide was essential training for war work. How did a Guide gaining a badge in Morse code aid fighter pilots? How did collecting 15,000 wooden cotton reels help RAF prisoners of war? And how does Guiding in those times influence the lives of women in the twenty-first century? Within days of the declaration of war with Germany in September 1939, young women were being called up to the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF), Women’s Royal Navy (Wrens), and the Female Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANYs). The military services soon realised that Guides with badges sewn on their sleeves had skills that were not only life-enhancing, but also life-saving.
Guides from all walks of life threw themselves into war work. Even Princess Elizabeth, a Guide, and Princess Margaret, a Brownie, learned how to cook on a campfire and promised, like thousands of other Guides, ‘to help other people every day, specially those at home’. When the Blitz began, Guides kept up morale in bomb shelters with ‘Blackout Blues’ sing-songs. They built emergency ovens from the bricks of bombed houses. They grew food on company allotments, and knitted for England. They became the embodiment of the Home Front spirit, digging shelters and providing first-aid. All over Britain, Guides held bazaars and pushed wooden two-wheeled trek carts around the streets, collecting jam jars and newspapers for recycling. In one week in 1940 they raised £50,000 to buy ambulances and a lifeboat which saved lives at Dunkirk.
Guides painted kerbs with white paint to help people find their way around in the blackout. They collected sphagnum moss to dress wounds. They helped evacuated children leave the cities, and helped to care for them when they arrived in the country. War Service Badges were awarded to Guides after ninety-six hours of work, washing up in children’s homes, caring for the elderly, feeding bombed families and Air-Raid Wardens.
Their contribution was noted at the highest levels. At the Lord Mayor’s Show in London in 1942, Winston Churchill took off his hat in salute as the Guides marched past. Movietone newsreels featured Guides putting out incendiary bombs, marching with gas masks and sending messages by semaphore. Older Guides were shown helping on a farm and rowing on a river (they may have been looking out for German parachutists disguised as nuns, a common fear at the time).
Exploring archives, I stumbled across extraordinary stories. A Brownie log book from 1944 surprised me halfway through with a song the pack sang on Christmas Day:
We might have been shipped to Timbuctoo We might have been shipped Kalamazoo It’s not repatriation nor is it yet starvation It’s simply Concentration in Chefoo!
I discovered that from 1942 to 1945 the 1st Chefoo Brownie Pack was based in a Japanese concentration camp. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December 1941, an entire boarding school of British children was interned in eastern China along with Trappist monks, White Russian prostitutes, businessmen and Cuban jazz players. The morale of the girls and their teachers was greatly improved by their continuing as Brownies and Guides. Their sports were organised by Eric Liddell, the 1924 Olympic gold-medal winner and hero of the film Chariots of Fire. I tracked down their Brown Owl, aged ninety-three and living in Seattle, and several of the girls, who told me how being Brownies had given them stability and normality during those four long years when they were separated from their parents. They led me to other Brownies who had been captured by pirates in the South China Seas in 1935, while on their way to school by ship.
Letters to local newspapers produced wonderful stories, photographs and more log books. The 1st Wantage Brownies went on a camp at the end of August 1939, and although their Brown Owl must have known that war was imminent, you would never guess it from the pictures of them swimming and standing on their heads, or from the brief note that they had had to return home a day early, on Saturday, 2 September.
A scrapbook in the Imperial War Museum revealed that during the war three spinsters from Kent ran a hostel near Perth which was filled with sixty children evacuated from Glasgow. They set up a Brownie pack, a Cub pack and a Guide company which were so well run that Guiders were sent from all over Scotland to train there. When I wrote to the house, the current owner phoned me back: ‘I had no idea of the importance of guiding here. Lady Baden-Powell was my grand-mother-in-law. I knew her well.’ I found one of the Brownies who had lived at the hostel, in Weymouth. Brought up in a tenement in Glasgow, she went on to become Mayor of Weymouth, and put it all down to being a Brownie.
One afternoon I told my husband about a story published in 1947 about a Dutch family who rowed across the English Channel in May 1940. The thirteen-year-old daughter was a Guide, and had used her skills to keep them afloat. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if you could find her now?’ said my husband. ‘Well, she was called Josephine Klein,’ I replied. He dashed out of the room and returned with a pile of books. ‘These are by Josephine Klein. She’s a leading London psychotherapist. I’ve seen her give a talk, and she’s the right age.’ I found her in Waterloo, and she invited me to visit. We spent a morning with her lying on her therapist’s couch, telling me the whole story, and how Guiding had provided her with instant friendship in a country where she knew nobody.
Guides were among the first civilians to enter Belsen concentration camp, and in the aftermath of World War II their outstanding service continued. Financed by Guides and Brownies from all over the Commonwealth, teams of former Guides and Guiders worked with refugees in Holland, Germany, Greece and Malaya.
When you go camping with only a rucksack, you cannot take all the things you want: you have to choose the most important, and leave the rest behind. I have almost certainly left things out of this book that some people will feel should have been included. Brownies and Guides did so much in World War II that it is impossible to cover even a small amount of it. I hope, however, to give some understanding of the extraordinary and important part that Guides and Brownies played during that time of crisis.
Their stories form an unofficial history, told by the girls themselves, first-hand as well as through letters, diaries and log books. Celebrities and ordinary women describe the fun and frustration, the characters they met, the places they went, the art of tying a reef knot behind your head during a blackout and the thrill of a midnight feast in an Anderson shelter during the Blitz.
I realise now that it was through Brownies that I learned about values, caring for other people, and trying to do a Good Deed every day. This book gives a taste of one of the most extraordinary movements of the twentieth century, and how it influenced people all over the world.
Janie Hampton
Oxford
Prologue: Pax Ting
On a hot evening in mid-August 1939, silver trumpets sounded from the battlements of an old castle in a forest in Hungary to mark the end of an extraordinary meeting. The blue and gold Guides’ World Trefoil flag which had flown from the main tower for just over two weeks was hauled down for the last time. The first world gathering of 5,800 Girl Guides from thirty-two countries, as far apart as India, Holland and Estonia, had set up camp on the royal hunting estate of Gödöllőo. In typical international style, Lord Baden-Powell had put together Latin and Norse words to name the occasion ‘Pax Ting’, or Peace Parliament.
Gödöllőo was twenty-two miles from Budapest, and was described by the Guides of Hungary as ‘in a very healthy wooded part, surrounded by vineyards on the plain of the river Rakos. Its principal curiosity is the famous royal castle, now residence of the Regent of Hungary, a one-floor building built in French rococo style, with more than a hundred chambers. 3/5 of which estate being wood and excellent hunting ground, and the station for potato researches.’
The World Association of Girl Guides and Girl Scouts (WAGGGS), founded in 1928, was already the largest organisation of its kind anywhere on earth, with a mission ‘to enable girls and young women to develop their fullest potential as responsible citizens of the world’. When WAGGGS decided to gather in Hungary, the association had ignored the signs of impending war.
There were 246,202 Guides in Great Britain, but only two hundred were invited to go on this epic trip. The lucky few who were chosen had to be physically fit for the long journey by train and the dry heat of Hungary in August, as well as keen campers and efficient Guides who would both give a good impression of British Guiding and have the wits to bring back useful observations of the gathering.
Leading the British contingent was twenty-four-year-old Alison Duke, who had recently graduated from Cambridge with a first-class degree in Classics. She was known as ‘Chick’ and had joined the 1st Cambridge Guide Company as a girl; now she was the company’s Captain. With the Nazis already in control of Germany, Austria and Czechoslovakia, Alison’s fluent German had helped to secure her selection as leader, and it was her task to escort the British Guides across Europe. As their train passed through Germany, at each station they were greeted by members of the Girls’ Hitler Youth Movement, the Bund Deutscher Mädel (BDM). A group of BDM girls were at Aachen station at 3 a.m. to present the British Guides with fruit and flowers. Their leader travelled to Cologne with the party to ensure that more BDM girls further down the track provided breakfast. ‘Nothing could have been more friendly or helpful,’ said the Guides later.
For two whole years, the 7,500 Guides of Hungary had been preparing for Pax Ting. They had learned new languages and garnered badges such as Health, Fire, Gymnast and Police; older Guides and Rangers (aged sixteen to twenty-one) had learned about the local history so they could lead expeditions to places of interest. ‘No time and no trouble had been spared to ensure the great gathering being well organised and the guests well cared for,’ said the official programme. However, in the summer of 1939 most adults in Europe knew that war might break out at any moment. It took much courage on the part of Guide leaders to allow the camp to go ahead. If war had begun while 5,000 girls were hundreds of miles away from their homes, what would have happened to them all? The Polish contingent understood better than anyone the threat of war, and at the last moment they altered their plans. The night before they left for Hungary, the younger Guides were replaced with First Class Rangers experienced in mountain expeditions. They were issued with special maps which they sewed into their uniforms, so that even if they lost their haversacks they could find their way home. If, as was thought likely, the German army invaded Poland during Pax Ting, these Guides were to return home on foot over the Carpathian mountains that separated Hungary and Poland, in small groups or alone. ‘Be prepared’ had always been the Guides’ motto; now these girls might have to put it to the ultimate test. Only weeks later, many of them would travel in the opposite direction, out of Poland, on even more dangerous adventures.
At Pax Ting, Guides from each country pitched their ridge tents in circles or rows in the pine woods, each encampment marked with a gateway featuring their national emblem or a peace symbol. The British camp’s gate was flanked by a lion and a unicorn made from painted cardboard; the Danes had constructed a pair of giant doves. The Hungarian Guides had never camped under canvas before, and their tents were quite a spectacle: ‘They varied enormously, from holding 16 children to two,’ wrote Christie Miller, a Guide from Oxfordshire. ‘They nearly all had their beds raised off the ground, and were covered in the most beautifully embroidered counterpanes. The tent pole was decorated with coloured ornaments. All tents were trenched but judging by the effects of the first thunderstorm, not very effectively.’
The Finnish Guides brought tepees, like those still used by the Suomi people in Lapland, and invited everyone to autograph them. These tepees fascinated the British Guides: they had their ground-sheets sewn to the tops, and were held up by bent bamboo poles threaded into the canvas — a foretaste of twenty-first-century tents.
The Guides from Poland were the ‘real heavyweight campers’, wrote Christie Miller. ‘All the beds were made of wooden planks raised off the ground on logs. They made shelves for shoes, rucksacks etc. Each Guide carved an emblem at the doorway of her tent. In their grey uniforms they were one of the smartest contingents. In the evening they all wore long cloaks.’
At all camps, including Pax Ting, the Guides wore their camp uniform. For the British this was a blue cotton tunic with a leather belt, a triangular cotton scarf and a floppy cotton hat. At a time when most girls had few clothes, wearing a uniform gave them both a smart outfit and a sense of belonging. The early uniform reflected the relaxed post-Edwardian approach to women’s wear: an A-line skirt above the ankle and a practical, comfortable shirt — often a cricket shirt borrowed from a brother and dyed blue.