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I was eighteen and a half years old and recently married. I was cooking Sunday dinner on that historical morning, 3rd September 1939. The Wireless was switched on ready to hear the Prime Minister's broadcast at 11 a.m. Neville Chamberlain sounded a broken man as he spoke of the breakdown in talks between himself and Adolph Hitler. Czechoslovakia had been invaded and Poland overrun. The Prime Minister announced that we were now in a State of War with Germany.
Shortly afterwards the Air-raid siren sounded to let us know what to listen for if the enemy attacked us. It was also announced that churchbells would no longer ring apart from to let us know that we were being invaded. There was an air of urgency, fear and excitement as we awaited further developments.
Not a great deal happened for the first few months where I lived, twelve miles from Bristol. My husband and I were able to enjoy our first Christmas together before he went into the R.A.F. on the second of January1940. Along with my brother, he had volunteered for the Air Force on 3rd October. He was accepted in the R.A.F. But my brother was a bit too young. However, the Royal Navy accepted him and he was away first. After his initial training my husband was posted overseas in August 1940. He was able to see our first baby before he went as I had found myself pregnant before he left home.
Mr. Churchill was now our Prime Minister. He spoke to us on the Wireless after Britain had endured her first year of 'Standing Alone'. We had endured the anguish of our brave Forces at Dunkirk, when civilians in little boats had crossed the Channel in their efforts to try and rescue as many of our Brave Soldiers as they could, and I had seen some of our weary bedraggled soldiers as they marched as best they could through our village of Yate.
Winston Churchill with his speech to the Nation, gave us fresh heart. He was Great Britain personified: John Bull, the British Bulldog at bay, never giving in, no matter what the odds, when we only had 50 tanks to our name. The Greatest Man of my lifetime!
We had been issued Gas Masks and Identity Cards prior to the outbreak of war. We now tightened our belts, existing on meagre rations and went bare-legged in the cold. What pride we had felt for those Brave Young Pilots, those famous few who literally saved us at that critical time. Several of my old school friends were amongst them.
As the War progressed, the enemy bombers penetrated deeper and deeper into our land. Many of our major cities and towns came under heavy raids at night. The smaller villages did not all escape including our village of Yate where we had an Aircraft factory and a munitions factory.
Our first attack came as I was getting ready to go out on 28th February 1941. We had frequently had air-raid warnings and were often overflown by the enemy, but this time it was daylight when the Klaxon suddenly went with no air-raid warning first.
I had put my baby into the pram when I realized my gloves were in the living room and had dashed back to get them. I raced back to the kitchen and grabbed my child. Fortunately, I had not strapped her in which I normally did, when the plane flew over us to the factory across the road at the end of our short lane, and dropped his bombs, I just managed to get under the stairs with no time to pull the door to. The anti aircraft placement at the bottom of our garden was still firing its guns, but the plane was just ahead.

As the bombs dropped and exploded the whole of the kitchen ceiling caved in and completely covered the pram with debris. Holding the baby close to me, I coughed and spluttered as I thanked God I had not strapped her in or we could both have been killed or badly injured.
The raider went as quickly as he came, quite closely followed by two of our fighters, but there were heavy dark clouds and I doubt that they found him. I put my little one on a cushion and tried to sort out the pram, lifting large pieces of plaster and debris out and cleaned it out the best I could. I kicked the wheels so that I could push it, and putting the child in, I made my way out of the kitchen and set off to see if my mother was alright.
On reaching the end of our lane to the main road a delayed action bomb went off. I was right opposite the factory gates. The factory had received direct hits and no one had had time to get out and the factory was ablaze. As I stood there, stunned by the blast, and the sight before me, two open backed lorries emerged through the gate laden with bodies, piled on top of one another, some dead and others wounded and bleeding badly, all being rushed off to our tiny cottage hospital. What a nightmare it all was. I found my stepfather wandering haphazardly in the road in a dazed state. The department next to his had received a direct hit and everyone had been killed. My husband would have been among them, had he not joined up, because he was in what was later defined as a "reserved occupation".
My stepfather and I walked to their home about a mile away where thankfully we found all was well, apart from a worried mother.
Exactly one week later another day-light raider came, sneaking in under heavy cloud again, but this time we had the siren before the Klaxon and the rest of the workers had time to get to the air-raid shelters. I got under the stairs again with my baby and closed the door. The ceiling caved in, in my living room this time. There were one or two casualties, but nothing like the previous week. A bit of shrapnel embedded itself in the table under my window. My stepfather came over afterwards when the "All Clear" sounded, and we had a cup of tea.
I fluctuated between Yate and London from time to time as my in-laws wanted to see their grandchild. I tried never to go anywhere without my little girl. I always felt that if one of us had to die, it would be better if we both went together. However, one of my sisters-in-law wanted to go to the local cinema to see a film called "Bitter Sweet". I did not want to go, but was persuaded against my better judgement to do so and to let my mother-in-law take care of my child. She insisted that I needed a break.
The film had only been on 15 minutes when the Air-raid warning sounded. I jumped out of my seat and said "I'm going to Pat (my child)." My sister-in-law tried to dissuade me, but I went, running through the streets as fast as my legs would carry me, with the German bombers above my head droning away and search lights zig-zagging across the night sky, and the huge barrage balloons flying beneath with their steel coils looking menacing and there to prevent the planes coming lower
As I rounded the corner of the street, I ran straight into the arms of my father-in-law. "I knew you'd come," he said. He was an "Air Raid Precaution Officer"(A.R.P.) and usually on duty during air-raids. I clasped my baby and sat underneath the table as soon as I arrived indoors. The next day I returned to Yate after a night of hearing bombs falling.
My brother was in foreign waters, and he had a W.A.A.F. girlfriend whom we had never met. She wrote and asked me if she could come and see me on her next leave. Mother's house was still full of men who were doing work of National Importance locally. It was arranged that I would meet her at Temple Meads Station in Bristol as she had never been to our part of the country before. The station approaches, with the rest of Bristol, had been heavily bombed the night before. The road between Coal-pit Heath and Downend had also received a huge crater, so the buses were unable to go that way and went via the country lanes from Yate. The train was due at 2 p.m. And I had to leave my little girl with mother for what I thought would be two or three hours.
When I arrived in Bristol, I found Baldwin Street between the then Bus Centre and the station, practically razed to the ground. I picked my way along and arrived at Temple Meads in good time.
The train was was due at 2 p.m.on platform 2. I waited and waited as various trains came in and went, but never Ruby's. I knew I had not missed her. She would be in uniform and we had a special sign of recognition.
Finally, I returned to platform 1 and stood by the exit gate, which I should have done in the first place if I had thought. It was getting dark by now as it was winter time and I was cold and hungry. Then the Air-raid warning sounded. "I should go if I were you," said the ticket collector. "The buses will all be returning to their depots now." I took his advice and raced down the incline to the main road.A bus came lumbering up out of the darkness, very slowly and without any lights, and stopped to pick me up. I was relieved to find it was on its way to its depot at Staple Hill which was on my side of Bristol. As my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, I made out the figure of a young man on the opposite seat at the back. As I had never been to Staple Hill before I asked the conductor if he could tell me which way I should go when we arrived. The conductor did not know as it was through a medley of lanes.
The young man obviously heard and realized I was lost. He offered to start me off in the right direction. As we walked along, the bombs were raining down over Bristol and the sky lit up with the blazing fires all over the city. I was feeling sick with hunger and fright. We continued through the twisting turning lanes; I was completely lost and my companion continued to walk along with me. As we walked past one particular hedgerow, he gripped my hand when a searchlight unit on the other side of the hedge switched on its brilliant searchlight as a squadron of the enemy flew over. It caught a bomber directly into it's beam, which immediately fired a string of tracer bullets down the beam and the light went out. The bullets had taken on a golden glow as they raced down the beam. The constant drone of the enemy planes went on overhead as the red glow of Bristol spread right across the sky
At each lane junction my companion prepared to leave me for he knew his mother would be very worried, but all the lane signposts had been removed in case of an invasion and he could not bring himself to go. We bumped into a lonely telephone box without a light and my companion telephoned Chipping Sodbury Police Station from it. He asked them to go to my mother's house and let her know that I was walking home through the lanes and also that I hoped to reach the main road by Coal-pit Heath Church. My companion left me at this point to return home through the lanes. I gave him my heartfelt thanks and we shook hands and said goodbye. I never knew his name only that he was a clerk at a Bristol Police Station and unfit for military service. I knew I would never forget him and I never have!
As I walked a little way down the road from the church I saw figures in the road looming up out of the darkness with the burning glow of Bristol across the sky. It proved to be my step-father on a bicycle and my fourteen year old sister on a tandem borrowed from a neighbour. It was upon this that I finally reached my mother's home.
The first person I saw when I entered the house was Ruby.She had made her way through flaming Bristol to the Centre where she was fortunate enough to see a lady in a van who was making her way to Chipping Sodbury and managed to get a lift almost to my mother's front door. With the house still being full of lodgers we could not stay the night but one of them kindly offered to carry my sleeping child the mile to my home with Ruby carrying her Kitbag and me dragging my weary body.
There was an element of a kind of excitement, as well as of fear, about the War. For instance, one day the siren sounded when I was at my mother's house, I could hear the heavy drone of enemy planes approaching. It proved to be a Squadron of bombers with fighter escorts on their way to bomb Filton.
Mother had climbed under her bed dragging my little toddler with her. She had previously moved the bed downstairs and now slept in the dining room. I was out on the back porch standing on the edge as the enemy approached to overfly us, when a squadron of our fighters approached from the opposite direction. With guns blazing, they broke up the enemy formation. All hell was let loose as they engaged in dogfights. I saw one plane go down as their fighters fought to protect their bombers as far as possible. Some got through and did bomb Filton but with our fighters close on their tails.
I stood spellbound, giving mother a running commentary on events on what was happening, whilst she kept shouting, "Come in you silly b-----, you'll get yourself killed." But I felt no fear at the time, and in any case they were much too busy to think about me!
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As far as we could, we tried to live as normal a life as possible. We got used to rationing, but we were grateful to President Roosevelt and America, who came only second in my profound admiration for Mr. Churchill. America sent over packets of dried eggs which made up into lovely scrambled eggs,(our ration of fresh eggs was only one a week) and tinned "Spam" off ration which eked out rationed food.We were well aware of the risks the ships took on the high seas, manned by our brave Merchant seamen, and of the lease-lend Agreement made between Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Churchill for ships. We were very thankful.
After the dreadful bombing on Pearl Harbour when no war on America had been declared by Japan, the Japanese found the port was full of ships and their crews who were killed along with civilians who lived in the Port. America then came into the War.
When the Americans joined us, they brought over their B52 Bombers, the "Flying Fortresses", which flew much higher than other planes, and began daylight raids over Germany. Previously our raids on the enemy had been during hours of darkness.
One beautiful summer's day, I caught the Bus to Bristol and took my daughter into the Downs where I lay on the grass gazing up into a bright blue sky. Very high up in the heavens I saw two squadrons of "Flying Fortresses" flying over in perfect formation. They looked like silver birds and so beautiful. I knew they were on their way to bomb the enemy and I prayed that they would all return safely.
The American Forces were very generous and had lotsof girlfriends and gave them silk stockings and chocolates — scarce commodities. I did not receive any, although it was not for lack of invitations, but I determinedly remained loyal to my husband! They also became very popular with the children, to whom they gave chewing gum. One often heard the children say "Got any gum chum?" It became a saying of the times. Also posters were displayed saying, "Hush, keep it dark," and "Careless talk cost lives.We contributed what we could to the War Effort, such as pots and pans and anything steel, like my husband's almost new bicycle. Like many others, I tried to obey government instructions by having only 5 inches of bathwater to conserve electricity and water. We had a consignment of oranges once and I queued up for ages to get one or two which were strictly rationed. The back of our Ration Book was marked so that no one could queue twice and get more than their fair share. Of course, a lot of "Black Market" went on by the "Spivs"and "Drones" of the day. Our entertainment was mainly by wireless in my village, although the Americans had dances and so did the locals occasionally, but I seldom ever went because I did not want to leave my child. Enemy Aircraft often flew over, but did not bomb our village anymore at that time. The wireless was a boon, with Tommy Handley and his gang and also Ben and Bebe Lyon, an American couple and their children who entertained us throughout the War! They all gave us good cause for laughter.
In London the cinemas and shows carried on throughout the Blitz. On at least one occasion, a theatre received a direct hit, and the star of the show was killed outright and many others injured. Of course there was thousands of casualties in London throughout the War and the majority of children were evacuated to homes of strangers in the country villages as far away from London as possible.
As the war progressed more and more of our major towns and ports were heavily bombed. Many nights were spent down stairs taking cover as war planes overflew us. Many homes had Anderson Shelters built into ditches in back gardens, and when later, the Morrison Shelters were made, they were erected in peoples living rooms. They were like very large tables, and when inside mesh steel covers could be placed all round from inside. I had recently left my part house and gone to live with my mother when the lodgers left.
One night when the sirens went, I dashed upstairs for my child and arranged chairs round the square dining table, seats inside,and placed a cushion in the centre. Having peeped throught the blackout curtains, I saw over the field opposite that chandelier-like lights were floating down which the enemy planes had just dropped as they overflew our house. They were known as "Molotof Cocktails". I climbed under the table as quickly as I could, nursing my child in my arms and crouching over her and
rested my head on the chair seat in front of me, and prayed, as more and more planes overflew us.
They were looking for the munitions Factory which they shortly found and bombed, but not enough to stop all production. I was all alone as my mother and stepfather had gone to a hostelry in Chipping Sodbury and my sister was at the Village Hall Cinema, right opposite the munitions factory.
Fortunately, as the siren had sounded they came out and ran all the way home. As they reached our road, the A.R.P. Warden stopped them and took them in to a shelter in the ditch by the field.
The raid seemed to go on for ages. When it eased a bit, the Warden came and called through the letter box, "Are you alright in there?" After a moment, I managed to squeak out, "Yes, thank you." "Are you sure?" he asked. I managed to answer that I was. When the "All clear" sounded and my sister came in, she asked who I had had with me? When I told her no-one. She said "But the Warden said there were two different voices." Obviously the tension I felt had changed the tone, once I had spoken.
Mother and my stepfather got home after midnight expecting to see our house flattened as they came down the hill. They had spent the whole time in the cellar under a local pub, in Chipping Sodbury.
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I was walking down the hill one day after fetching my rations and pushing my infant in her pram when the siren sounded. No one else was about. Almost straight away, a lone German Bomber came very low over the Cottage Hospital and I could clearly see the rear gunner and the pilot. A string of "flaming onions" followed them (anti- aircraft fire). I quickly put the pram hood up (for what good it would do!) and ran across the road under a single topped roofed cover with a petrol pump underneath. There was no other cover anywhere.
The plane rushed over our roof, across the field and over the ridge where there was a quarry, closely followed by two British Fighters. I do not know the end of the story, but strangely, my heart went out to them all.
Eventually, in September 1943, my husband returned from abroad. He arrived home unexpectedly early one morning, having telegrammed me upon his arrival at a Scottish Port saying he would be home soon. Three days later he turned up, and as happens, caught me in an old dress and wearing a turban over my curlers in which I had set my long page-boy style hair, knowing there would be no transport until after 2 p.m. when the Sunday Service to Yate started.
Our now three and a half year old daughter was in the front garden playing and I was about to change her and myself into our only bit of finery in case he came that day. Since receiving the telegram I'd worn my only nice dress and kept my child and myself spick and span, constantly expecting him!
After a joyful reunion I found he'd managed to get to Downend, part of the way home and had intended to walk the next miles. He'd called into a garage to ask if he could leave his Kit-bags there, when a lady driven van pulled up for a petrol ration. She was coming to Chipping Sodbury, and like Ruby in earlier years, he was offered a lift almost to the front door.
He had had no food since an early breakfast, but the little one and I had eaten our rations, for dinner, so I could only offer him Spam, a few potatoes and greens. I think he was quite disgusted, having only lived on rations whilst at sea, and certainly more that I had to offer..
I fancy he thought he'd get a nice roast dinner! I'd forgotten what one was like! However, we enjoyed a week together when he had to return to his unit, but was granted two weeks leave in October.
For the rest of the war, he got various postings, but all in England, and was trained on Jet's which were only being tested then and not in full production. Finally, for the last year or so he was on the first Jet Squadron in Wiltshire, and 14 miles from home. After a bit he managed to get a living out pass and cycled 14 miles each way to his station and became an extremely fit man. I managed to get a larger room some distance away at the other end of Yate where I eventually had a baby son.
Our hosts had some American Army/Airforce friends whom we became friendly with too. There were three in particular, Ignatious, of Latin American descent, Joe, of Italian descent and Elmer of German descent. Dances were occasionally held at a nearby school and with neither of our husband's being dancers, the other wife and I partnered our American friends. They were all good dancers, though with different styles. Ignatious was excellent with a perfect smooth style, Joe tended to cuddle and hold one close, but danced very well, whilst Elmer tended to dance in squares then move forward whatever the dance may be, but also a very good dancer, and held one very correctly. So at last I could indulge in my favourite pastime and enjoy myself! The men came back to supper with us and our husbands later. But it all came to an end when they were posted to Europe. We felt concern for them, and I did particularly for Ignatious, who had told me he knew he could never kill a man either shoot or bayonet him. We never knew what became of any of them. Although we had many Air-raid warnings, we were never bombed again in Yate, although we still heard enemy planes fly over us at night. Both our Aircraft and munitions factories had long been back in production.S A
We eventually got an old country house in a hamlet three miles the other side of Chipping Sodbury. It proved to be a nightmare. We found it full of fleas and cockroaches and filthy dirty. No power whatsoever, an old black range in the living room for cooking and the only heating, but I did manage to buy a primus ring for the kitchen run on paraffin and an oil lamp for the living room, with candles elsewhere. We bought a second-hand valve wireless run on an accumulator which the oilman renewed every week when he came round with his van. There was an outside toilet, also filthy which ran into a cess-pit in the garden (gone to seed). I scrubbed and cleaned over and over and my husband helped me to decorate over the weekends. He still had 14 miles to cycle each way to his station in Colerne.
We had one very bad winter whilst there and were snowed in for nearly three weeks. Fortunately I always kept plenty of food in store, but we had finally run out of wood, coal and oil and of course no wireless! I normally walked the three miles to shop in Chipping Sodbury taking the two children in the pram although my little girl walked a lot. War in Europe finally ended in August 1945 and in Japan in September 1945 with street parties for children, but not in the hamlet, and I took my children to Yate where we watched the fun. My husband was finally demobbed at Christmas 1945 just one week short of 6 years in the R.A.F. To our great joy, we managed to get an almost new house back in Yate. What a pleasure to rejoin civilization in our village in comparative luxury. My husband found work, although we still had rationing. Life was good!

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