In January 1944 Joyce Watson (nee Kent) born 21st January 1922, commenced her General State Certificate Training at Rochford General Hospital, Southend, where she was to spend the next three years. Joyce remembers: -

The hospital had a great nurses' home, brand new just before the war started, with built-in wardrobes, washbasin, a dressing table, chair and bed. There was also a dance hall and a stage.

Our uniform was a pale blue dress, apron, black shoes and stockings (tights were not available yet).

The building was structured on the outside with a lower part of roof, where we could go and sit, once the war was over. That low bit saved us from doodlebugs so often; we'd watch them on night duty fly over. We used to see what looked like a flame coming out the back and we'd listen for the engine to cut out, which was when the bomb came down, doing a great deal of damage. Eventually, as always, the RAF, who shot them down over the sea, saved us.

We had an intense study period, with weeks of minute structure, anatomy, physiology and hygiene, which included where drains and pipes went. We also had to attend a post mortem, although none of us were keen, but I realised if anyone fainted it would be better there than in the operating theatre. We all came through our test at the end, however.

Books had to be bought; uniform, board and lodgings were provided.

We went back to school (in hospital) periodically and had lectures to attend and courses to pass, then preliminaries, followed by the finals.

After our training we worked mentally and physically so hard, once on the wards from 7.30 a.m. We would come off at 9/9.30 a.m. for breakfast. There would usually be one on a ward at night and a junior between 3 wards.

While I was a junior I had to make the night sister a meal. No one else could cook because, although we went on duty with a 2 deck Billycan, no one else was ever interested in food except me.

There was no way could we go across the grounds at night because of air raids, shrapnel and doodlebugs.

I still remember, during my first year when waiting for a bus in Southend, my only evening out for ages. I went to West Cliff to see Tony (Anthony), a Catholic Priest, and friend to us all. I missed my service tin hat terribly and it's not a nice thought being without one, with shrapnel flying around.

My first ward was Orthopaedic, with seemingly nothing but 60+ ladies with a leg stuck up in an extension fracture of femurs. I guess lack of nourishment, as we know it today, didn't help, and they seemed to be immobile for so long. Some had a Smith Peterson pin if it was the head of the femur that was involved.

I only remember one sleeping night and a night off, during a three-month stint of night duty, although we were looked after under the eye of a home sister, who was so kind.

The nurses home maid on a.m. duty would look at the 'breakfast in room' list and, if we had signed that list the day before, and put our tray, crockery and cutlery outside our door, breakfast would be brought to us. I don't know anyone else in any other hospital who had such a luxury.

Our dance floor and stage were made use of for the nurses' concerts at Christmas or New Year. I was in the production a couple of times. We made our own evening dresses and I made mine out of taffeta lining. Two or three nurses in each room did all the sewing by hand. We'd turn the lights on again after the night sister had turned them off and would sew until 2 a.m. for days, until completed.   

My training was paid for partly by the Navy - a small amount paid every three months for three years.

I had hoped to do midwifery and return to the Navy as a QANNS (Queen Alexandra Naval Nursing Sister), but could not do so owing to a minor TB infection in 1947.

In the meantime I'd had two male friends, one a 6 ft stevedore (Tilbury dock boy), now an RAF lad. Also two of us girls had made friends with Glynn and his mate, who both had motorbikes. We used to ride pillion, which was quite exciting, but also frightening once when Glynn's mate and pillion rider turned somersault. The dust with the lights shining through looked like a fire. However, both came out unscathed thank goodness!

After getting my State Registered General Nursing Certificate, I could now say I was an SRN, which came in handy, as Boots the Chemist and Timothy Whites offered a 10% discount for all SRNs!

Whilst at Rochford I had a disaster when one day I was walking (galloping) down my ward and collided with a sparrow, which came through the window. I dropped the lot - tray, swabs, everything. I now had 6 broken thermometers. I had to go to Matron, with the pieces for evidence, and she made me pay 6d (old pence) each for replacement.

That wasn't as bad as my first half hour on a ward after the initial school training, however. I thought to myself 'blow' this, I can't keep going back and forth, I'll pile these clean, shining bedpans up in the dirty linen bag on wheels. Yes, you might have guessed, I caught the wheel on a thing in the floor, used to secure the doors. Over went the trolley with loudest crash imaginable, with me almost falling on top of it. I received my first reprimand, but how the girls laughed over it at lunch break!

Another time I had a disaster (and I still have scars to prove it) was when a not-too-clever person last used the urine-testing cupboard. There were no 'dip sticks' as I call them, in those days. We had to use a Bunsen burner and test tubes and various liquids for different tests, such as Benedicts solution and nitric acid.

On this particular day this person left the nitric acid in front of the cupboard. It consequently spilt on the floor, splashing my legs. I flew into the ward and said 'Sister I've got to fly to Casualty, but I need some bicarbonate for my legs'. But, she didn't even want me to take my stockings off, which immediately obtained holes from the acid. The Medical Superintendent was lovely, and more concerned about my tights and had I got coupons for more? If we weren't tough, we would have all given up in that first year.

We were fortunate to have ward orderlies (ladies). They were super and brought us home made cakes. We would give them our butter or margarine allowance of 2 oz per week, to which they obviously added their bit and also the sugar.

All of our mums, in turn, used to send us powdered milk and cocoa, to help us out.

In my last year after my Finals, still in bed with a minute TB infection, the nurses' home was officially opened by the Duchess of Kent (Princess Marina), a lovely person. I think she was of Greek origin.

After Rochford, Joyce went on to Harefield Hospital where, over facemasks in the operating theatre, she met Ron, whom she married in 1950.