- Contributed by听
- gillianfie
- Location of story:听
- Exeter
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A6945708
- Contributed on:听
- 13 November 2005
I was born in January 1939 in Exeter, so I was just 9 months old at the outbreak of war. We lived in a flat in Sidwell Street.
My early years were punctuated by air raids and I remember that we always had to carry gas masks and be ready to put them on at any warning. I had a Mickey Mouse mask. I recall that one day there was a practice gas attack and my mother and I were in the street. I was about three at the time and I absolutely refused to don the gas mask, so was carried screaming into the nearest shop to 'escape' the gas.
Every night when we went to bed, my sister and I had to put our clothes into a bag, leave our outdoor shoes at the foot of the bed, together with our overcoats. At the sound of the siren we both got out of bed, put our coats and shoes on, grabbed our bag of clothes and ran up the street to the nearest air raid shelter which was in Cheeke Street. I could only have been about three years old, yet remember it very clearly.
On the night of the Exeter Blitz we were at the air raid shelter as usual. I can't remember what we used to do during the raids - I asssume we slept, although my sister who is a little older than me can remember being in the shelter. When the bombing finally ended I recall going to my mothers great aunt's house in Magdalen Road, becuase there was an unexploded bomb under the shop where we had a flat. When we got there we found her hiding in the coalhouse. We passed the local dairy on the way and I remember seeing the horses tied to the railings outside.
Because we couldn't go back to our flat my father decided that my mother and we three girls should go to a friends farm at Whiddon Down until it was safe to return. We set out to get there hoping to catch a bus. My mother has told me that there were scores of roads cordoned off because of unexploded bombs. Eventually a gentleman in a car stopped and we all squeezed in, together with a neighbour, who was carrying her cat in a basket. When we came back my father took us down to the cellar to see the bomb (now defused).
Being so young I don't remember being frightened, but looking at pictures of the Blitz I realise I was very lucky to live to tell the tale. All the buildings immediately before the shop where our flat was had been destroyed and ours was the first left standing. We lived there for a good many years afterwards, only leaving when the site was demolished to make room for Debenhams.
Another memory is of going to the town and buying savings stamps, which we stuck on to a 'bomb' to help with the war effort. We also saved paper, which was collected from the streets to help raise money.
My mother always kept a bucket of water inside the front door, in case of incendiary bombs, and always filled the kettle last thing at night, in case the water was cut off by an air raid.
My father was an ARP warden, and spent many nights on duty. He sometimes used to take my sister and I to the warden post in Southernhay.
When the war ended I was at school. We had shelters (I think they were Morrison shelters) in the classrooms and when the siren went we were all herded into them and the teachers used to read to us until the 'All Clear' sounded. One lunchtime after I'd been home my little sister was imitating the noise of the siren and unbeknown to us the siren had actually sounded. Not realising this my other sister and I set off back to school, only to be met at the gate by an extremely angry Head mistress, and being severely reprimanded for walking the streets while there was a raid going on!
The day that Peace was declared the Head mistress called a special assembly. She told us that the war was over and we said prayers and then sang 'Now Thank We all Our God'. I remember she was crying. I would have been six years old by then.
After Victory had been declared there was a Fancy Dress Party after which all the children walked to a local sports field for games and races. I remember my younger sister refusing to run in the toddlers race and sat down in the middle of the track crying.
I know that there was rationing and everyone had to register with a grocer to receive their allocated rations, but I never recall being hungry or going without. With hindsight I suspect that it was my parents who went short.
These are a few of my memories of the war.
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