Joyce Terry, left, with Sheila Tracy, a trombonist in the band with the cast of Alan Plater’s play at Hampstead Theatre last week

Blonde bombers – the forces’ real sweethearts

Dan Carrier talks to Joyce Terry about her time entertaining the services as part an all-women troupe

WHEN the air raid sirens went off, the bombs started dropping and you had no time to rush to the shelters, the safest place to get yourself was under the grand piano.
Such advice was standard to the performers who kept the country’s spirits up during the war. Joyce Terry, now in her 70s, was a singer in the Ivy Benson band, an all-women troupe who toured the ballrooms and Service Men’s clubs.
She paid a visit last week to the Hampstead Theatre where Alan Plater’s current show Blonde Bombshells, based on the band, is enjoying full houses and sparkling reviews – and the evening brought back many happy memories.
Joyce, who lives in Belsize Park, was born in Manchester into a musical family: her mother had one sister and nine brothers – and so her uncle Joe formed a band. Her mother met father when he stood in on the drums for them.
By the age of 16, she had already performed professionally – including appearing with George Formby when she was aged just five.
It was an easy graduation to become an Ivy Benson girl.
It was when performing in a pantomine in Southport that Ivy spotted her – and made her one of the lead singers for her show.
Joyce continues: “She asked me to sing a couple of songs and before I knew it I was in the band and on the road.
“I was the baby of the band – and they used to laugh at me because I had lost my Lancashire accent. I had had elocution lessons, which made me sound quite posh in a northern girls dance band.”
Because of her theatrical background, she brought an air of professionalism with her.
She said: “The girls used to tuck their show dresses up under their coats and pop off to the pub. I used to insist every one changed beforehand, and hang their dresses away properly in the changing rooms.”
The services were aware of how important it was for morale to provide entertainment: the Benson girls established a reputation for not only their great looks but because of Ivy’s insistence that each musician was accomplished.
Ivy, from Leeds, recruited from Yorkshire’s brass bands. Joyce recalls what a powerful presence Ivy was.
“She had had no formal teaching but she educated herself. She could play every instrument, and had an amazing ear.
“Once we were doing a show outdoors in Sweden. We were doing a tune and there were 16 or so of us in the band, and Ivy stopped us and said: Joan, you are playing a duff note. Poor Joan insisted she wasn’t and we went through the piece again. But Ivy could spot it and said to her that she definitely was. After the third time, she went up to Joan’s music and pointed it out, to which Joan replied: I can’t help it if a bird has shat a crotchet on my music! And there it was, a piece of bird muck that looked like a note – but Ivy had managed to spot this one note out from what every one else was doing. It was quite amazing.”
But one day Ivy collapsed on stage – and Joyce had to step in.
She said: “One time we were playing the Golders Green Hippodrome. Ivy wasn’t well. In the middle of the show she played a difficult piece, the Artie Shaw Clarinet Concerto which works up at the end to this massively high note that we always thought every night she wouldn’t get it, but she always did. This particular night she got right to the high note, the very last note, and she collapsed. For the rest of the week she asked me to take over the band.
“The band were not pleased – me standing there conducting was hysterical; I just said ignore me and I’ll wave my arms about like Ivy.”
Joyce recalls performing on May 9 1945, when peace was declared.
She said: “We were playing at the Palace, Manchester. They announced at the end of the show from the stage that the war was over. The band played Land of Hope And Glory and the audience all joined in. It was a very moving moment.”
And when the war came to an end, the Benson girls got a special booking. Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery was throwing a victory party for his battle-worn troops in Berlin and he wanted the Benson girls there. Joyce said: “We had to do four weeks of ENSA every year and the War Office they told us we’d be the first people to go to Germany once the war was over; they fitted us out with officers’ uniforms which were a great hoot.
And the show was a success.
“It was terrific: the army treated us like queens when we got to Berlin. The soldiers were not allowed to fraternise with the German women and suddenly here were 20 or so glamorous young musicians from home – they couldn’t do enough for us.”
And although the sadness of war haunted the band wherever they went, it was one of the reasons their job – to help people keep going – was so important.
She said: “We had so much fun, despite the times. Everyone lived on the edge. We fell in love with just one glance, and then fell out with another.”
But there was personal heartache for Joyce.
Her husband Jack Gamble was in the forces and it was source of constant worry.
She said: “Suddenly the D-Day landings were on and my husband was involved. We were playing the Nottingham Empire when I heard he was wounded; I didn’t know whether he was going to have an arm off or leg off or whatever. Thank God he was alright: it was just shrapnel in his chest. Ivy took me to the hospital and brought me back; she was so kind.”

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