Welcome to Aspects of History, Joanna. Can you tell us more about how you came across the story of the Lumberjills and give us a sense of how your connection to their story grew?

I first came across the story of the Lumberjills while I was working for the Forestry Commission. Somebody mentioned during both World Wars, thousands of women had worked in Britain’s forests with an axe and saw felling trees and they were called Lumberjills. I had never heard of them, and neither had anyone else I worked with. It immediately felt like an important piece of history.

In my early 20s, my dad had given me an axe for Christmas because I loved chopping wood for the fire. I remember thinking that if I’d been born fifty years earlier, I would have signed up to the Women’s Timber Corps. But when I began researching, I found almost nothing about them. Most of their records had been destroyed, just one sample folder remained in the National Archives, and there was barely any mention of them in history books or online.

So, I decided to travel the country to meet the women themselves. By then they were in their late eighties and nineties, their stories were so inspiring, full of courage, humour and adventure. They had stepped into one of the toughest jobs of the war, proving themselves in a job that society believed was men’s work. Yet, at the end of the war, they received no recognition for more than sixty years. Every Lumberjill I interviewed told me how forgotten they had felt. Once I’d heard that, I felt compelled tell their story.

What was the inspiration to continue Keeva and the Lumberjills story in a follow-up book, and how did you decide on the direction for The Lumberjills Under Suspicion?

After interviewing more than sixty former members of the Women’s Timber Corps, I was spoilt for choice. There was far more material than I could ever fit into one novel. Everywhere I travelled I uncovered another extraordinary story. These women were young and mischievous, strong, adventurous and endlessly resourceful. They had to be.

For The Lumberjills Under Suspicion, I wanted to explore how prejudice led to the fear and suspicion that these women encountered. Women usually wore skirts and the Lumberjills were wearing breeches, carrying axes and became physically very strong and muscular. In the 1940s, the thought of young women living independently, driving lorries and doing such physically demanding work simply didn’t fit the accepted idea of how women should behave.

The Lumberjills said people thought they had too much freedom, were a bit too wild and there many true stories of Lumberjills being reported to the police. It created the perfect backdrop for novel 2 while remaining firmly rooted in the real experiences of the Lumberjills.

Was there any surprising information you revealed while researching that did not make the book, or perhaps changed the direction of the book?

One of the biggest surprises came right at the beginning of my research. I visited Stuart Olsson, who had spent years campaigning for the Women’s Land Army and Women’s Timber Corps to receive official recognition for their wartime service, eventually helping secure the veterans’ commemorative medals awarded by Prime Minister Gordon Brown in 2008. Almost the first thing he said to me was, “You do know one of the Lumberjills was a German spy?” That sentence stayed with me for years.

It sent me down a fascinating research rabbit hole into wartime espionage and the training of Special Operations Executive (SOE) agents. I began wondering what perfectly innocent behaviour might have looked suspicious during the dark days of 1940. Young women cycling through the countryside with maps, disappearing into forests, working miles from home and keeping their own company could easily attract attention in a nation fearful of invasion.

Whether there really was a German spy among the Lumberjills remains unanswered. But what became clear was how quickly prejudice breeds suspicion. Once people decide someone doesn’t fit their idea of what is normal, it doesn’t take much for rumours and accusations to follow. That became one of the central themes of The Lumberjills Under Suspicion and ultimately shaped the direction of the novel.

This book almost acts as a wartime coming of age for these girls in the sense of gaining a newfound independence. What does this novel say about girlhood and growing into your own identity in a heavily male-dominated world?

Yes, most of the women joined the Women’s Timber Corps at just seventeen. For many, it was the first time they had left home. They arrived inexperienced, naïve and suddenly living and working away from their families at a time of national crisis. The war created opportunities unavailable in peacetime. Suddenly these young women found themselves together felling trees, driving timber lorries and operating machinery in jobs that had always been considered men’s work.

My dad always used to say, “Actions speak louder than words,” and that’s exactly what these women did. They worked hard, supported one another and demonstrated that they could do the job. They discovered they were capable of far more than either they or society had believed. The Lumberjills showed what women had always been capable of. I hope the novel shows how confidence grows when young women are offered the same jobs as young men early in their careers, trusted with responsibility, encouraged to take risks and recognised for what they achieve.

For me, that’s why recovering women’s history matters. Recognition isn’t just about correcting the past; it shapes how girls see their own future. When we celebrate women’s achievements alongside men’s, we expand everyone’s sense of what is possible.

Throughout the book references are made to being forgotten and being remembered. What role does that play in the context of reducing these real women from historical erasure?

One discovery in my research was a letter published in the Sunday Post in January 1943 from a Scottish Lumberjill. She wrote, “We don’t want medals – but we hate to think we’re forgotten.” That letter shows that even during the war, these women could already see themselves slipping from history and their important contribution to the war being lost forever.

At the end of the war, the Lumberjills received no medal, no badge and no financial gratuity. They weren’t allowed to keep their uniforms, jobs or march in Remembrance Day parades. Every Lumberjill I interviewed spoke about the hurt of feeling that their contribution had been erased from history.

As many as 18,000 women served in the Women’s Timber Corps. If a group that large could disappear from public memory, imagine how many other women’s stories have been lost. We need to highlight that in the past remembrance has focused more on men’s achievements and sacrifices, so that we can redress the balance today.

Recovering women’s stories isn’t simply about correcting the historical record. Recognition shapes how we see ourselves and what we believe is possible. When girls grow up seeing women celebrated for their achievements in the past in forestry, science or art and literature, they inherit a much richer understanding of their own potential. That’s why telling the Lumberjills’ story matters, not just for the women who lived it, but for the generations still to come.

When dealing with real-world institutions like the Women’s Timber Corps, and dealing directly with women who lived this experience, how do you balance strict historical accuracy with the creative freedom needed to craft a compelling story?

My starting point has always been the women I met. After interviewing more than sixty former members of the Women’s Timber Corps, I felt a real responsibility to tell their stories. Their history had almost disappeared, and I came to see myself as a custodian of their memories. That’s why I wrote Lumberjills: Britain’s Forgotten Army first, using their own words so their voices could be heard.

Writing the history book then gave me the freedom to write fiction. The novels are inspired by real women and real events, but fiction allows me to explore the emotional truth behind their experiences. Rosie, for example, is inspired by the real Lumberjill Eileen Mark, and many of her adventures come directly from Eileen’s memories. The other characters are also woven from the lives of different Lumberjills I interviewed or read about. I stay faithful to the spirit of their experiences while creating fictional characters whose journeys readers can invest in.

The greatest challenge is fitting those personal stories around the chronology of the war. I don’t start with historical events and squeeze characters into them. I start with the women, because history is ultimately about people. If readers fall in love with the characters, they’ll naturally become curious about the remarkable history that inspired them.

The challenges these women face regarding their capabilities being doubted, and general prejudice, still feel very resonant today. Was it intentional to draw parallels to modern experiences, or is it simply a timeless reflection of society?

It was intentional, but only because I discovered that the real experiences of the Lumberjills already felt so relevant today. The more I interviewed these women, the more I recognised echoes of my own experiences growing up. They were judged and criticised because they were women doing what was seen as “men’s work”. But they told me how they simply got on with the job, despite being underestimated, ridiculed or harassed. I wanted to capture that truth in my novels.

The circumstances have changed, but many women still recognise the feeling of having to work harder to prove themselves. If my books encourage readers to question outdated assumptions and recognise the achievements of women whose stories have been overlooked, then I’ll feel I’ve achieved something worthwhile. The Lumberjills deserve their place in history, but their legacy isn’t only about the past. It has the power to shape the future.

I’ve seen that first-hand through my books, talks and exhibitions. Women working in forestry across the world have told me they see the Lumberjills as pioneers and role models. Recently I was invited to speak to a Canadian network representing thousands of women in the timber industry because they believe these remarkable women still have the power to inspire the next generation. To me, that’s the greatest proof that the story of the Lumberjills still matters today.

Is there more to be heard from the Lumberjills? What is next in terms of projects or titles?

Absolutely. I already have plans for the third novel, which will continue the journeys of Keeva, Rosie, Beatrice and Edith from where The Lumberjills Under Suspicion leaves off. There are still so many remarkable true stories waiting to be told.

Beyond the novels, I’d love to see the Women’s Timber Corps become part of the national history curriculum so every child grows up knowing who the Lumberjills were and what they achieved. Their story deserves to stand alongside the better-known stories of the Second World War.

I’d also love to see the books adapted for television or film. The Lumberjills have everything you could hope for in a great drama – friendship, courage, mystery, humour, romance and an extraordinary true history. Most of all, I hope their legacy continues to inspire future generations to challenge expectations and encourage young people to believe in themselves and never underestimate what they’re capable of.

Joanna Foat is an historian and the author of several novels including The Lumberjills Under Suspicion.

Ciara Hurley is an Editorial Intern at Aspects of History.