ACT ONE
1939â1942
It is now Sunday 24th January 1965. The play moves to autumn 1939, as the women recall when they joined the Womenâs Land Army.
Radio playing BBC Home Service.
MARGIE: In a bedroom, rollers in her hair, dress on, applying her make-up at the mirror.
PEGGY: In a farmhouse kitchen, in an apron, at a table, preparing lunch for the family.
POPPY: In a drawing room, wearing her coat, ready to go to church, with flowers.
VERA: In the kitchen/diner of a small flat, wearing a robe, with a coffee, about to start typing.
It is 8 a.m. The BBC announces Winston Churchillâs death.
POPPY. Heâs gone â
PEGGY. Shush â
MARGIE. The old bugger â
VERA. He jilted us â
Radio comes up and fades out.
PEGGY. Well Iâm blowed⌠(Calls.) JimâŚ
POPPY. So many⌠so manyâŚ
MARGIE. Oh my God⌠Iâm going to be lateâŚ
VERA. He jilted us.
The radio continues with Churchillâs speech.
CHURCHILLâS VOICE. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France,
We shall fight on the seas and oceans,
We shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be,
We shall fight on the beaches,
We shall fight on the landing grounds,
We shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
We shall fight in the hills.
We shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in Godâs good time, the new world, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.
The radio broadcast fades and ends under the WOMENâs voices.
MARGIE. Eee, that darned poster.
VERA. Jumper and breeches.
PEGGY. âLend a Hand on the Land.â
POPPY. A girl, head held high, golden hair, smiling and proudâŚ
PEGGY. On a hayrick.
POPPY. Thatâs what started it for me.
MARGIE. In me mindâs eye, I saw before us green fieldsâŚ
PEGGY. Crops of vegetables.
POPPY. Perhaps flowers.
MARGIE. All things bright and beautiful.
VERA. Girls in green and beigeâŚ
VERA and MARGIE. Their faces and armsâŚ
VERA, MARGIE and PEGGY. TannedâŚ
ALL. Hair flowing in the breezeâŚ
POPPY. And wielding a pitchfork! My mother wanted me to join the WRNS: elegant and sophisticated; admirals and their wives were all prepared to pull appropriate strings.
VERA. âDig for Victory.â
PEGGY. âYour Country Needs YouâŚâ
MARGIE. The Army and all of them were in Newcastle at the time. You couldnât see anything for uniforms
POPPY. Men in uniform.
MARGIE. And I wanted one.
PEGGY. I had the choice of domestic work in hospitals, the NAAFI, or the Womenâs Land Army. Well hospitals was out cos I was a bit squeamish, and the NAAFI, well, my mother vetoed that. âYouâll be serving strong drink to men over the counter, over my dead body.â So that left the Land Army⌠âA nice healthy outdoor occupation for a lass.â But I didnât know one end of a cow from the other.
VERA. Well, Iâd just been to college and I worked in a bank, a reserved profession. I wasnât allowed to wear trousers and I loved the look of the breeches. So I thought, well maybe, Iâll join the Land Army, do something for the War Effort. When I talked to my boss, he was very unpleasant about it, he said I was making things difficult for him. My stepmother was horrified: âYouâre wasting your education. Youâll soon be bored working with yokels who are wood from the neck up.â The next day, I went and signed up.
MARGIE. I wrote to the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries for the necessary forms. I found a lot of questions to be answeredâŚ
QUESTION ONE (POPPY). What type of land work would you like to do?
MARGIE. I put Market Gardening and Horticulture.
QUESTION TWO (VERA). Which part of Britain would you prefer?
MARGIE. I put the South of England, thinking that most of the fruit and veg was grown there.
QUESTION THREE (PEGGY). Would you care to be privately billeted or hostel billeted?
MARGIE. I put hostel billeted, as I thought it would be nicer to work along with other girls and have the company. However, they didnât take any notice of my replies and I was recruited out to a âprivate farmâ in Murphy Tyers, Murphy Hill, outside Darlington.
PEGGY. I was surprised to find I had to go to Oxford Street for my interview. I stood in front of this lady, with what I call a five-pound-note voice. She twirled a gold pencil continuously in her long fingers, as she fired a barrage of questions at me:
INTERVIEW LADY. âDo you think itâs all going to be feeding chickens with lovely weather?â
PEGGY. âI have been hop-picking, you know, since the age of three.â Well, she jumped back as if I had fleas.
POPPY. For my interview, I was wearing a stylish new cotton frock that my aunt had made for me. It had a red-and-black pleated skirt and a splash of poppies on the bodice, I borrowed my friendâs high-heeled sandals, and to complete the picture, my hair was piled on top with two ringlets hanging over my forehead â which was, after all, the fashion and it looked great on Veronica Lake. My gaze went to the poster. The Land Girl was smiling, as though advertising toothpaste, and⌠dressed in a uniform. âAm I prepared to swap my dress style for that?â
MARGIE. When I got home from work one day, there was me uniform. âParcel upstairs for you, Marge.â Pop had put it on the bed for us.
ALL. Two green jumpers.
Two pairs of breeches.
VERA. (Good.)
ALL. Two overall coats.
POPPY. (In light khaki.)
ALL. Two pairs of dungarees.
Six pairs of long socks.
PEGGY. (Woollen.)
ALL. Three Aertex shirts.
VERA. (Shapeless.)
ALL. One pair of ankle boots â
POPPY. (Those boots, Mummy wept when she saw them.)
ALL. One pair of shoes.
One pair of gumboots.
POPPY. (Wellingtons.)
MARGIE. (For when itâs wet.)
ALL. One hat.
MARGIE. (Gorgeous.)
ALL. One green tie.
One overcoat.
VERA. (Not actually issued until 1943.)
ALL. One mackintosh.
MARGIE. (Down to your ankles.)
ALL. Two towels.
One oilskin souâwester.
One red armlet⌠and a metal badge.
MARGIE. The signing-up certificate said:
VERA. âYou have made your home fields â
PEGGY.âŚyour battlefield.â
The WOMEN reveal Land Army uniforms under their clothes. This may be done in silence or during the dialogue. Throughout the next speech a song is quietly sung, perhaps one of those from the play repertoire or a well-known song from the war years, like âWish Me Luck as You Wave Me Goodbyeâ.
Every time I think of that day I chuckle to myself. The uniforms came in standard sizes. The breeches were supposed to reach just below the knee, but mine came down to my calves and bulged beneath my knee-length socks. The heavy brogue shoes I could hardly lift off the ground. You can imagine how I looked. Wish me luck.
MARGIE. It bucketed down the day I travelled to Murphy Tyers. Me mam took me. There I was, all in me uniform. We got a train into Darlington and Mam hired a taxi and he took us to Murphy Hill. Iâd never seen anything like it; the driveway was all muck and plother, potholes full of water. When I got out in the stackyard, it was bucketing. I bent down to pick me cases up. Taxi man had just thrown them out, got back in and he was away before I could even say goodbye to me mam. Theyâre off, and Iâm standing there wondering where I was. Me hat looked like a wet lettuce. Then I saw this figure standing in the doorway doing this⌠(Beckoning with finger.)
MR BAINBRIDGE. Look what theyâve sent us, sheâd make a good ornament for tâmantelpiece.
MARGIE. I splodged towards the door and went in.
POPPY. My mother saw me off on the Watlington Donkey from Princeâs Risborough to Lewknor Holt, having first seated me safely beside two elderly ladies, headed for the same destination. The train only had one carriage, at the station they had to bring steps for people to alight. The train was to arrive at four seventeen.
VERA. My calling-up papers arrived, number â
The numbers overlap each other.
10873.
POPPY. 148785.
MARGIE. 26538.
PEGGY. 0101337.
VERA. And my travel warrants and instructions. I caught the quarter past nine train to Manchester and then the slow train through Wigan, and got off at somewhere called Hoscar, miles from anywhere. There was nobody to meet me, no taxi, no one. I just stood there. It got dark.
STATIONMASTER. Well, what are you still standing there for?
VERA. It was the stationmaster. I explained to him what had happened.
STATIONMASTER. You can borrow my bike. Iâll walk home.
VERA. Iâd never ridden a bicycle before.
STATIONMASTER. No...