The girdle was just a plain pink satin and elastic pull on -- civvie model. The bra and the panties were khaki G.I. But the dress! Oh that dress! It was of apricot coloured silk and fully lined with taffeta or some such. It was as far removed from the weight and texture of my uniform as east is from the west.

There was a bit of a panic about shoes to fit, but eventually a pair of black suede wedgie courts was found. I guess they were very fashionable in 1943. But in retrospect. . . ugh!

Make up consisted only of powder and lipstick with a smear of petrol- eum jelly on my eyelids. The wig was set in the then fashionable page boy style. I guess the nurses fussed over my dressing a bit, and rather than let them in on my 'secret' I let them have their fun too.

I don't know how my name was chosen, but for the night I was to be Georgina James. I looked at myself in the mirror by the door. My TV self was more than satisfied. The 'big bronzed Anzac' was gone com- pletely.

Perhaps I should have been a bit frightened as I walked with the Nurses from the quarters down the road to the recreation hut. But I wasn't. Several of the girls whom I knew, and with whom I worked, ob- viously didn't recognize me. That was a good start. Perhaps the fact that the party was well under way when we arrived helped. The four ‘con- spirators' protected me pretty well, circulated me, yet managed to keep me from too close contact with any of the men. Well, they managed well until Captain · (now, in 1971, a very well known specialist and socialite) decided that I was for him. He had obviously had far too much to drink and that worried me more than a little. You know how good even a flea-bag looks to a drunk.

Matron and the commanding officer paid a call and made suitable speeches of welcome to the new girls, but I wasn't able to get rid of the Captain. Which unit had I come from, he asked. I named a nearby headquarters where, I said, I had been in medical records. To back up my story I dropped a few names, including that of a wolf whom I knew to be really buddy-buddy with him. That was a bad mistake. If I knew the friend, then, by implication, I was 'easy'. My 'admirer', with more liquor aboard, really got on the make.

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