THE FITTER’S “MATE.”

Waipawa Mail, Volume XXXVI, Issue 7749, 15 July 1916, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE FITTER’S “MATE.”

ANOTHER NEW WAR TYPE. In many workshops the fitter’s “ mate” or assistant is being replaced by feminine labour. In a long, low workshop a man and his mate were “stripping” an engine. The room was filled with deep shadows cast by the warm sunshine that streamed through the open windows Iv the roof, and heavy with the purple smoke that rose from a brazier of burning charcoal. Under ji narrow circle ol light thrown by a swinging electric bulb, the two were busily engrossed in their work. The fitter was a typical engineer, whistling gaily over his task. But what a strange figure had replaced tho old familiar fitter’s “mate,” a position held by an ever-changing succession cf youths, all with perpetually unshaven chins and the end of a cigarette stuck between their lips. The newcomer was humming a song in a low soft voice. Her hair reflected the spun gold of the sunlight as she bent over tlv.* engine, eager and happy, working side by side with the fitter, a real mate, a man’s mate, providing yet another proof of woman’s adaptability to work which has hitherto boon regarded as wholly outside her province. Sly) was cleaning out the gearbox, a trim figure wearing a sensible uark blue overall, which, while providing her clothes with ample protection against grease and dirt which her work created, allowed her to retain her feminine charm. As 1 crossed the room she looked up with a smile. “Are you the new fitter?” she asked eagerly, and when 1 answered her n the negative she addeu regretfully, “Oh, I’m sorry. I’in looking forward to the arrival of another ‘engineeress’ in the shop; I get a wee bit lonesome at times.” Then she continued lur work, thrusting her hand again into the grease and dirt of the gear-box with a wonderful business-like air that told of an .experienced hand and complete understanding. “Do you like the work-” I asked her. “The twenty-five shillings a week help to keep things going while die men,are away,” she answered evasively. “And you don’t find the strain too severe?” “Oh, not at all,” she replied, “but it gives one a wonderful appetite. Thank goodness it’s nearly dinner tinui.” “Do you go out to eat?” I asked. “No,” she replied; “I’ve got a little room fitted up here, where I heat my own food. Would you care to join me?” “Rather,” I said, and as she frankly admitted her own lunch would be insufficient to satisfy the appetites of both, I went out to buy food while she continued the work she was engaged on. When f returned she was still ousy, using a spanner with the familiarity ot an experienced man. She was giving valuable assistance to her fitted in a number of ways—handling saws, nles, and hammers with the air of a trained mechanic, and sparing no pains to ensure accuracy and satisfaction. The fitter showed no hesitation in relying completely on her judgment ami ability. He certainly recognised her value, and gave her ample proof of his high esteem by the very obvious confidence he showed in her. At tlu stroke of one o’clock both lie fitter and his mate dropped their tools after the manner of all true workers, and nothing could have been a more truly convincing proof of the full extent to which women have replaced their lighting predecessors. With the instinct of true femininity my little friend proceeded immediately to wash and “ tidy up” when we rear-li-ed the room that had been thoughtfully set aside for her- —for whether a woman he working in an omnibus, m a munition factory, at the clocks, or on tho land she will always remain a vonmn. While she brushed her hair and powdered her nose 1 fried nausages over a charcoal fire. The appetising odour must have curtailed the toilet somewhat, for the sausages were, scarcely cooked when an anxious voice inquired : “ Isn’t it ready yet? I’m so hungry I” An overturned box served tor a table, hut we had the unexpected luxury of a tablecloth, of clean knives and forks, ami dainty crockery. While we sat at our'informal meal she told me of her anxiety to learn her business thoroughly. “I’ve been here six months,” she said, “and have never felt the least hit weary of it. Perhaps,” she eontiimed, “that is because, before undertaking it, 1 realised fully what the work was going to he and so took it easily, avoiding any attempt to over lo it. 1 start nt nine and leave off at five. The short hours, 1 believe, have enabled me to ‘carry on’ so satisfactorily, and have prevented me from feeling any ill effects.” Then she continued with pride, to tell me that her husband, a motor engineer, was an attested man, and that when lie left home to answer the call ot the country she was going to “run” his garage “on her own.” “It’s only a little country garage, she said, “ hut it’s a good business that my husband has built up and workc 1 hard for. It was our first home, ho added simply, “and wo love it! She pictured to nv? the little house attached where she reigned ns mistress; speaking lovingly of the garden they had tended together with the tin v trout stream running through, where they had fished in their leisure hours. Listening. I understood why he was going out to fight for home and country, ami the wonderful incentive had to keep tilings going until his ~oturn. For love and pride ot the country and Empire is the dominant spir t tli at reigns’in the heart of every nun, u nd in the heart of every woman the lovo or homo. o IVY SAXWm