大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Lincolnshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Gillian Atter and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Atter fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

My earliest memories of the war are of my mum, sister and myself travelling to Northampton. It would seem that it had been agreed amongst the grown ups that it would be safer to live with my Aunt and Uncle with their three children than live close to a railway line and factories that were producing war materials.

Although we were a curiosity to the other children because of our accent, or lack of it, we soon settled into the daily routine and grew accustomed to the cramped and sometimes chaotic sleeping conditions, with up to eight people sleeping in a three bedroomed house.

After a year in Northamptonshire mum and dad made the decision that we would return home to our own house in Grantham. On our return I was amazed to see large brick shelters had been built in some of the nearby streets and found out that some people went into these shelters carrying a flask of tea or coffee, some sandwiches to eat and a blanket to help keep you warm if you were in there overnight!

My dad was a baker and if he wasn鈥檛 working when an air raid was on he was designated as an ambulance driver. I remember seeing him come home very distressed and telling mum how he had been to a house to help rescue some people and found that one of his friends was dead. Another occasion when they were trying to bomb the RAF HQ, Stuart Street was badly hit and a lot of people lost their lives. The bits of body parts were put into a dustbin to help identify people when the All Clear had sounded.

I remember that we were directed to have two lady lodgers for a while. They worked in the nearby munitions factory and I used to watch them putting their makeup on, as they got ready to go out for the night.

One day whilst we were at school, the sirens went. This meant that an air raid was imminent. So we were told to crouch under our desks. This afforded us a bit more protection. You weren鈥檛 allowed to go home during this time even if school was over unless a parent or relative came to take you home. My Uncle Dennis came to take me home (he was on home leave having been injured). As we walked along the path, a German aeroplane came over very low, probably going for the nearby aerodrome. My uncle immediately picked me up under the arms and threw me into a passage between the houses. This took all the skin off both of my knees!

One day when the sirens wailed their warning, my mum鈥檚 sister Ethel came round to stay with us and as the sound of the bombs going off got louder my sister and I were pushed into a small cubby hole with the women鈥檚 bodies shielding us. As the bombs got closer my mum鈥檚 voice got louder and louder saying 鈥淕od save my kids鈥� There was a really loud bang and with that the windows were blasted in and the doors came off the hinges. We later found out that the bottom of the street where we lived had been badly damaged with people buried for hours and one man killed when the heavy fireplace shot out and hit him. When things had returned to normal I remember dad coming in and telling us that the small out-building that housed the coal had disappeared. 鈥淚鈥檇 only just paid for that coal鈥� he said to mum.

Because dad was a baker he could get the empty flour sacks from work and because they were cotton that could be opened out and bleached white. The mums then embroidered them to make tablecloths. In the same period, blankets were dyed black to be put up behind the outside doors to help maintain the blackout in force and also to cut out any drafts coming from the edges of the door. There wasn鈥檛 any central heating in those days.

My dad had an allotment on which he raised pigs and chickens. To help feed the pigs, the neighbours gave us any waste or scrap food. It was my job to go round after school and collect this swill as it was called. I remember struggling along with two big buckets on the handlebars of my bike and taking it home to be boiled in a copper over in the wash house. It had to be boiled before it could be fed to the pigs. The smell of the boiling pigswill was unpleasant. It smelt very earthy. It was a recognised thing that anyone giving scraps for the pigswill was given the 鈥榦ffal鈥� or intestines when the pig was killed, usually at Christmas time

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