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War had broken out and when we heard the first siren it sounded so loud it turned your tummy over. When they put the Anderson shelters up in your back yard (we did not call them gardens then) it did not leave much room. You could bet that the siren would always go off when we were going to have something to eat so we had to take something to eat and drink to take with us.

Then the War got worse and our parents said we best go over to Victoria Park where they had got underground shelters which were nearer to where we lived in London. Every night we went to the same shelter but one night our Dad suggested we try another one for a change. When we came out later we got a shock of your lives as the shelter we always went into had been bombed and all the people had been killed — over 100 of them. We felt so sorry for them; there were people that we knew but grateful to our Dad for saving our lives.

As the War progressed women and children were being evacuated in lorries including us. When we got to the end of the journey we were taken into a hall and given something to eat and drink, cushions and blankets to lay on the floor. The next day there were men and women coming in and saying we will have them or not. You felt like prize animals being picked out. Anyway one couple said they would have my Mum and one sister aged 6 months and another aged 7. Then another lady said she would have my other sister aged 17 and myself, 19 years old. We were pleased to know we would be near our Mum and other sisters. The lady that Mum stayed with was nice at first but then used to remove the bath plug so they could only have a bath once a week. She was paid for having them but that was how they treated us.

My husband and I got married on 20th July 1940. Later on we went to live with another lady. One night we were sitting talking and heard the awful sound of a bomb that had been dropped a little way from where we were. All the lights went out, the man of the house got a torch and told us all not to move as there was glass everywhere from the where the back door had been blown off and just missed where my husband had been sitting. Then the lights came on after a while — my husband’s, brother who had come to see us that weekend, had landed up in the cupboard where the lady kept her food. He had got eggs running down his face and head and a picture frame around his neck. We all laughed at the time because he looked so funny but he didn’t find it funny as he had cuts from the glass on his face and neck. We soon helped him to get plasters put on but soon heard how lucky he had been because a house a few doors from us had been hit and a family of 6 killed. It was so sad because we had known this family.

Then the lady said she wanted our rooms so we had nowhere to live. My mother, father and sisters had gone to live somewhere else and they could not put us up. Then my husband’s mother who had been bombed out with her husband and 4 children were evacuated to Essex to a big house with other families but had 3 different front doors to go into. She wrote and told us that we could go and live with them. It was better being there with my husband’s family knowing we would be happier there and my husband, being in the RAF then, was happier knowing that me and our little girl were with his family.

My husband and I live in Braintree now with a lovely bungalow, 2 lovely daughters and son-in-laws, 3 grown up grandchildren. My husband is now 84 and I am 83 and we are looking forward to being a Great Nan and Great Grandad and 2006 will be our 65th wedding anniversary. I now know what a good husband and family I have got and am thankful for. Thanks to God.

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