大象传媒

"This story was submitted to the People's War site by Linda and has been added to the website on behalf of Mrs. Dubber with her permission and she fully understands the site's terms and conditions."

I was 19 years old when war broke out in 1939. I lived with my family in Ventnor, Isle of Wight, in a three storied house immediately beneath the pylons built on the top of St. Boniface Down. Situated close by was the extremely high steeple of Trinity Church, which would have been a good aerial landmark. I worked in the large Co-op store in Ventnor, very close to Ventnor police station, Burts Brewery and several large stores including Harris Drapery and also, the Prince of Wales Public House. Enemy planes constantly came in, failed to reach the pylons and dropped bombs. One of these hit the Ventnor Police Station, shattered the brewery, also the stores and houses around it, and several people were killed. All the staff of the co-operative store took refuge in the cellars and although the roof caved in, we all live through the nightmare. We at home were advised to relocate to a safer area, St. Lawrence and Whitwell, which we did, but returning from time to time as the war progressed.

I was called to do war work and went to the Burfield Naval Nuclear munitions plant at Reading. We were inspecting naval detonators. We were not allowed to wear any clothing with metal, no jewellery or hairgrips. A cap covered our hair and our shoes were all rubber. One day the person sitting in the bay next to me used a grip in her hair which fell out on to a detonator and blew her up; she lost an arm and was badly injured. I was blown across the shelter, but apart from nerves, I survived (but was very frightened) and I then came home to the Island. I was allowed to stay home and worked in the chemist of Boots until the war ended.

As the war progressed, our house was used to billet Royal Marine Commandos whilst they trained at Shanklin Chine and surrounding cliffs, Ventnor seafront and Blackgang Chine. They used the top of our house as a home for 12 men in all, cleaning their guns and preparing for D-Day and Dunkirk. They were lovely fellows and we were all very distressed when the day came for them to leave, and very shocked when nine of them never returned. One was killed when walking past the Marine Hotel by a hit and run raid. He is now buried at the military cemetery at Forest Road. Throughout this time, we tried to live our lives as decently as possible on the meagre rations and restrictions. From time to time, we enjoyed a dance at the Ventnor Winter Gardens, dancing with the troops: naval, air force and Royal marine commando.

I had met my husband before the war in 1939 but we were engaged in 1942 married at Bonchurch Church in 1943 and have now celebrated 62 years of a wonderful marriage. We have a son born in 1947 and a daughter born in 1952, also, three granddaughters and two great grandchildren. I always blamed the accident at Burfield. Nuclear Common in 1942 for the nerves and pain I have endured throughout my life. I am now quite disabled.

My husband Robert survived throughout the whole of the war in the Royal Artillery Heavy Anti Aircraft Command. He moved from place to place along the southern counties at short notice when requested. He was a sergeant of the 219th battery and in charge of a very big gun, which received a direct hit when stationed at Hayling Island. Six of his comrades were killed. This left him extremely deaf, with bad eyesight and worse still, a nerve condition of the skin that needs daily attention. He was able to present when the six Island-born comrades were brought back to the Island for burial. He received a commendation for devotion to duty. When he was demobbed in 1946, his rank was Quarter Master Sergeant.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.