大象传媒

I was six years old when WW2 began and lived in a semi- detached bungalow between Dartford and Crayford, Kent. There were several factories near the River Thames including Vickers Armstrong which made munitions. My father had joined the army in WW1 but now as a dentist was in reserved occupation as a dentist. In 1940 air raids began and my father decided to have a shelter.

One summers day a red-haired Irishman called Paddy arrived and dug a large hole about eight feet square and six feet deep in the lawn. Steps were dug and the top covered with a sheet of corrugated iron with earth on the top. At the entrance was a blanket, to be kept wet in the event of a mustard gas attack (bombs).
Not only my family but the elderly neighbours from next door came into the shelter during night raids. We slept on makeshift mattresses with candles for lighting after dark. To make matters worse, my mother used to send me down alone out of school hours during daylight raids while she remained inside with my brother.

It was horrible. I hated the dampness and darkness and used to sneak out to hide up the top of the garden but if she found me I got a smack. To this day I dislike being shut in the small spaces and the fashion for candles does nothing for me.

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Helena Noifeld and has been added to the website on behalf of Valerie Martin (nee Holman) with her permission. She fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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