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I do not recall much of the war as I was only seven years old. However, I remember quite clearly when I was separated from my parents for the first time. It was September 1939 and was called evacuation. My mother went with my brother and sisters’ to stay on a farm in Wiltshire, whilst my father, then a part-time fireman, stayed at home. Because I was lame due to Polio I caught in 1937, I was not allowed to accompany them, but sent instead to a Home in Bromley, Kent with other disabled children. My mother located a similar Home in Malmesbury, near where she was staying, but the authorities would not allow me to be transferred. All the treatment I had been receiving on my leg was stopped.

I was in a bedroom with about seven other children which I remember was very cramped. The house was surrounded by a beautiful garden in which we were allowed to play, providing we were careful. The main room downstairs was spacious with French windows; this is where the activities were held during the bad weather. On a fine day the doors would be opened into the garden whilst we worked.

It was on such a day, which much have been a Sunday, we were sitting on the floor singing hymns. Suddenly we were deafened by an aircraft which flew down towards the house so low, I remember seeing the belly of the plane as it quickly ascended into the air and over the house. Id did not feel afraid, as to me, it was an exciting event.

My next recollection followed sometime later. It was the middle of the night when I was awakened by a loud bang. This was followed immediately by something flying across my bed and landing on the floor some way away. I later found out it was one of my friends. I sat in bed in the darkness, shocked and frightened. There was masonry falling everywhere some of which landed in my hair. We had received a direct hit from a German bomber which, I heard, could well have been the one that targeted us previously.

I remember seeing lots of people running about and shouting, some carrying children from the room. I was told to stay in bed until somebody came for me. I probably cried, but I cannot be sure. The next thing I knew was being picked up by a man from the Red Cross who took me outside a waiting ambulance. He told me I was lucky as most others had been hurts, some very badly, which I later found out to mean they were dead. He asked if there was anything inside that I wanted. Immediately thought of my rosary that a dear Aunt had given to me before I went away. It old him I would like it and that it was in a blue lace hankie-case in my locker. He found it, and I gave him a kiss when he returned with it.

I still have that rosary and hankie-case to this day.

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