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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer on behalf of Joe Latham and has been added to the site with his permission. Joe Latham fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

On 1st September 1939 my father, mother, twin brother, younger brother and myself returned from a holiday in Southsea. An anti aircraft battery had arrived on the seafront and in view of the seriousness of the news, my father decided it was time to return home to Worcester. My twin brother and I were 13 and our younger brother was 4.

At the beginning of the war my uncle Andrew who was a reservist in the Worcestershire Regiment was called up and soon found himself in France attempting to stop the German invasion. He was rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk in 1940 and I well remember the bedraggled figure who arrived back at our house shortly afterwards. He had lost his rifle and most of his kit and was dead beat. He was later promoted, first to sergeant and then commissioned. Soon after he was sent to Burma and reached the rank of captain. While attached to the 1st / 16th Punjab Regiment he was killed by Japanese artillery fire on 14th November 1943.

This was the same day that my twin brother Charles sailed as a cadet on the merchant ship ‘Loriga’ to Valparaiso in South America — a round trip of 6 months. Apart from an attack by dive bombers, his ancient merchant ship returned unscathed.

I remained in Worcester working as a Youth in Training at the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Droitwich transmitter station. Worcester was rarely a target for German bombers but they flew over regularly on their way to places like Birmingham and Coventry. Sirens were sounded night after night and it was essential that no lights were shown at any time. I still have my schoolboy diary noting the raid on Coventry when the cathedral was destroyed. There was a total black-out of course, but we were out walking that night, as we often did, and the flashes from the anti-aircraft guns could be seen just above the horizon to the north. As late as mid 1943, I was accompanied by German aircraft overhead as I cycled to the transmitter station to join the night shift. We had heard them many times before as their engines made an unmistakable sound. I was very interested in aeroplanes and many allied types were to be seen flying over from time to time. I particularly remember when I was at the Daventry shortwave station in early 1944, counting the number of ASAAF B-17 Flying Fortresses going overhead on their way to Germany — I counted 57. Just a few years ago I discovered they had formed part of a wave of something like 350 bombers on their way to bomb a ball bearing factory. The Americans suffered heavy losses on that raid.

Later while working at the ´óÏó´«Ã½ Washford transmitter station a new Technical Assistant (F) arrived and as rostered onto my shift. Her name was Sylvia.

Everyone of call-up age, 18, was expected to be in uniform but my call up was deferred for almost a year as I was working at the transmitter station. Badges were worn to show we were engaged in work ‘of national importance’. However in July 1945 I was called up, joined the Army and was posted to Northern Ireland. Shortly afterwards the war ended and after becoming a Radio Mechanic in the Royal Signals, I was demobbed in 1948.

After re-joining the ´óÏó´«Ã½, I met Sylvia again. Sylvia and I were married in November 1950.

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