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This story has been written onto the ´óÏó´«Ã½ People's War site by CSV Storygatherer Ian Hollins on behalf of The Rev. Andrew Scott. The story has been added to the site with his permission. And The Rev. Andrew Scott fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

I was eleven when the war began. We lived at Yelverton, on the outskirts of Dartmoor, so not in the thick of things, although we looked down and watched the fires of the Plymouth Blitz. My father and mother were hospitable and what I remember are all the people who came to our house during the war and because of it.
First were a Polish woman and her daughter Basia. Father was an army officer and probably already been killed. Goodness knows how they got out. The Manchester Regiment was billeted in our village and some them became regular visitors. I think my mother had met them in the YMCA canteen in our church hall.
Then my grandmother came. She lived in Aldeburgh on the East coast where there was a serious threat of invasion. She was warned she must be ready to leave her house at two hours notice. She went to her married daughter in Sussex just at the time the ‘Battle of Britain’ began and so she came to us, ironically, just in time for the Blitz.
My father was a Naval Family Welfare Officer with an office in the Naval Barracks. His lady welfare worker, Mrs. Waddington, was bombed out of her home so she came to us with her daughter for a time. Then Miss Fawcett his typist lost her home and came to us. She later moved to live with relatives in Saltash only to be bombed once more so she came back to us again.
While the Blitz was on, we had sailors from the barracks sleeping on our sitting room floor, there were three or four each night, watch on, watch off. We were in touch with some of them for years afterwards. When the Yelverton aerodrome was built anti-aircraft guns were installed up on the moor. Gunners used to come to us for baths even though we were by no means the nearest house. We only found out after several months that the War Department would pay for them. Later on there was a Chinese warship refitting in the Dockyard and two of the sailors used to come out to us for tea. They spoke almost no English so there was much bowing and smiling.
After the war Martin Perczy a P.O.W. worked in our garden and was entertained in our house strictly against regulations. He was a Yugoslav in the German Army. Later he was repatriated albeit unwillingly because he expected to face death for treason. So the war flowed through our home. We only had three bedrooms and a small one so I wonder now where everybody fitted in. My mother manned a mobile canteen on the aerodrome and also drove an ambulance. My brother went off to sea with the Royal Navy. I, when home from school worked in the Devon Emergency Land Army. I think our work of hospitality was also part of the war effort.

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