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Looking at this historic photograph brings back a flood of memories from my own time in the Signal Corps. It shows WAVE operator Virginia L. Scott in March 1943, sitting in the Code Room of the U.S. Navy Radio School in Madison, Wisconsin.

WAVE operator Virginia L. Scott in March 1943, sitting in the Code Room of the U.S. Navy Radio School in Madison, Wisconsin.

The photograph, catalogued in the National Archives as 80-G-431533, captures an ordinary phase of the highly technical work carried out by the WAVES during the Second World War. Seeing her at that workstation with her telegraph key, headphones, and operating table under the glare of direct lighting, I can almost hear the familiar rhythm of CW ringing in my own ears. It is a language of its own, and as an amateur radio operator who loves sending and receiving Morse code, I know exactly the kind of deep focus she is holding in that frame.

During World War II, the Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service stepped up to fill critical roles so that men could be sent to combat zones. Virginia Scott was part of that groundbreaking wave of female personnel who took on demanding technical jobs in the Navy. As someone who has served in military communications, I have immense respect for the structured training and standardized procedures these women had to master.

Radiotelegraphy was the primary transmission tool of the era, the absolute lifeline of naval operations across vast and unforgiving oceans. Long before digital uplinks, it was the sheer skill of the operator that pushed the message through the static.

Her hand rests on that bug key in a way any seasoned Morse code operator would recognize immediately. Sending messages via CW is an art form that requires strict physical and mental discipline. You have to maintain a fluid, consistent rhythm so the operator on the other end, perhaps dealing with heavy interference on a ship thousands of miles away, can copy the signal without error. Scott is entirely focused on executing her message while maintaining the standard posture required by her training. It reminds me so much of the pride we took in the Signal Corps, ensuring every dit and dah was sent with perfect clarity. Dealing with secure information meant there was absolutely no room for sloppy sending.

This specific photograph was originally taken by the U.S. Navy for internal use, but it captured something so profound that painter John Philip Falter used it as a direct reference for a Navy recruitment poster. His painting faithfully reproduced the layout of the scene, turning a moment of routine operational work into a powerful piece of public communication. For anyone involved in the history of communications, and certainly for a fellow CW enthusiast like me, this photo represents a concrete example of how vital these women were. They kept the frequencies alive and proved that the steady hand of a skilled operator was an essential weapon in winning the war.

Here is one of the paintings based on this photograph, and served as a recruitment poster for the WAVES program.

This “It’s a Woman’s War Too! Join the WAVES” poster by John Falter was produced around 1942 as a World War II recruitment tool for the United States Naval Reserve.

This “It’s a Woman’s War Too! Join the WAVES” poster by John Falter was produced around 1942 as a World War II recruitment tool for the United States Naval Reserve. The WAVES (Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) was established in July 1942, allowing women to serve in the Navy in non-combat roles, such as radio operators and clerical staff. Artist John Philip Falter was a well-known American painter who created numerous propaganda posters and Saturday Evening Post covers, often featuring realistic portraits.

I started in the ham radio and shortwave listening hobby in 1972. By 1975, this was my first real receiver. It heard very well, and ignited my lifelong passion for radio.

The R-366/TRR-5 military receiver.

This old radio, the R-366/TRR-5, which is clearly identified on the faceplate in this picture of the military rig, had great ears. It was what I used to hone my Morse code copying skills and to get the hang of how amateur radio operators conducted communications with each other, with CW, AM, or SSB. I hope someday to own one once again.

The R-366

The R-366/TRR-5 is a significant piece of military history manufactured for the Navy Department Bureau of Ships by the Espey Manufacturing Company. Built during an era when the United States Navy required absolute reliability for ship to shore and ship to ship communications, the unit is a testament to the rugged industrial design of the mid-twentieth century. Often referred to as part of the TRR-5 receiving set, this equipment frequently incorporated high quality components and precision engineering including the gold standard Collins Radio Company designs of that period. These internal components were vital in providing the remarkable stability and selectivity needed to pull weak signals out of the dense electronic noise environment found on a crowded naval vessel. It did have heterodyne squeals on a select few frequencies, which any old tube receiver was prone to have, but those did not detract from the excellent capability of the radio.

The Service

For the sailors and radio operators serving aboard ships in the 1950s and 1960s these receivers were far more than just tools for duty. In the often cramped and isolated conditions of life at sea these radios served as a critical psychological anchor. Access to the bands meant hearing the familiar sounds of home or tuning into MARS stations where amateur radio operators facilitated phone patches that reconnected sailors with their families. This bridge to the outside world was essential for maintaining morale and supporting the mental health of military personnel who were otherwise cut off from the rhythms of civilian life for months at a time. Sitting in the radio shack and slowly tuning that large central dial while listening to the crackle of the ionosphere was a meditative escape from the constant hum of shipboard operations. Many ships would pipe ball games and news shows, or music programs, over the ships intercomms, providing health and morale to the personnel.

Operating the Radio

The tactile experience of operating this specific receiver remains vivid in my memory. The layout with its distinct knobs for selectivity phasing and BFO control was designed for the hands of a professional radio operator who needed to manipulate the signal in real time. It required a disciplined ear and a steady hand to copy Morse code through heavy atmospheric conditions but that struggle made every successful reception feel deeply rewarding. It taught me the patience and technical appreciation that have defined my amateur radio hobby for decades. Owning and using a piece of history like this represented a connection to the generations of operators who stood the watch before me.

Traveling the World…

With this historic military receiver, I discovered an entire world as a child in the mid 1970s. I spent countless nights in the quiet darkness of my room with only the warm orange and yellow glow from the vacuum tubes leaking out of the back and top grills and slots of the radio enclosure, as those hot tubes cast soft light on the ceiling and walls. That radio allowed me to travel the globe from my listening position often sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of this big rig. Those late night listening sessions, when I should have been sleeping, ignited a lifelong passion for understanding the vast and interconnected world of shortwave radio as well as medium-wave DXing. I heard International Shortwave Broadcast stations as well as AM broadcast stations from Europe, Asia, the South Pacific, the Atlantic regions, South America, Central America, and North America–all over the world! I listened to amateur radio operators on Morse code, SSB, and AM modes. Ships at sea, aircraft doing transoceanic flights, fishing vessels comms where fishing captains would chat with other boat captains, and even military communications were all at my fingertips on the dial of the radio as I listened to these exotic places by headphones. I even picked up a station from Peru, South America late one night, on the mediumwave broadcast band. That is how great that receiver could hear. Of course, I had a very excellent outdoor dipole antenna that was cut for 160 meters.

What Receiver Was Your First?

What was your first major receiver? Was it just a receiver, or was it a transceiver? When was that? What did you hear that captured your imagination? Do you still have that radio?
I hope to someday have this R-366/TRR-5, once again.

~ Happy DX!
NW7US