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This is Les Colcutt’s story: it has been added by Pauline Colcutt, with permission from the author who understands the terms and conditions of adding his story to the website.

‘There she goes again, ‘Moaning Minnie’, we used to say as we heard the air raid siren start its wailing sound. Dad would then put up the blackout curtains so that we could at least have a light until the ‘Jerry Planes’ came over. Then we would hear the occasional shout of ‘Put that light out’ as the Air Raid Warden made his rounds. When we eventually heard the ‘Jerry Planes ‘ coming—you could tell them by the deep noise of the engines as they were bombers and their big engines, as I learnt later, were apparently unsynchronised-my Dad, Mum and older brother would squeeze under the stairs (later we had a Morrison table shelter in the dining room) until it was all over. We could hear the rumble of the explosions as the planes dropped their bombs on Birkenhead and Liverpool some seven or eight miles away, but nearer to hand not too far from the end of the road was an anti aircraft gun emplacement consisting as I recall of two Ack-Ack guns a searchlight and a barrage balloon, the noise from these guns was quite loud as they opened fire on the Jerry Planes. I don’t know if they ever shot anything down but it was quite comforting to hear them. After the All Clear had gone my older brother was allowed to go out with his pals and collect shrapnel whereas I was not, much to my disgust
Certain houses in the neighbourhood were selected as First Aid Points with stretchers and other equipment, and ours had the dubious honour of having a stirrup pump, hose and water bucket stationed there
I remember that after some very heavy raids, in the evening when it was dark, before the siren went my Dad would sit me on his shoulders and take me down the garden and we’d watch the flickering red glow over Birkenhead and Liverpool of the fires that burnt for several days. I believe it was Blacklers Department store that was the worst, followed by Lewis’s Store and others and of course the docks.
Dad worked on the L.M.S.Railway and some nights he would go off to do his stint of Fire Watch Duty in Birkenhead on the warehouse roofs.
Some Saturdays we would go shopping in Liverpool and I remember the bomb damaged areas and huge Emergency Water Supply tanks that had been erected for fire fighting which were connected by a maze of large bore pipes that ran along the kerbs of most of the streets in the centre of the town, and we children got the greatest of pleasure from walking along the top of the pipes so much so that the black paint on them had worn off and exposed the steel underneath which had become polished by the many shoes. Our journey home was by the Mersey Railway which was an electrified line, and inside the carriages every other light bulb had been removed and the blinds pulled down which allowed only a small area to see out of. When it was dark the porters on the stations, which were also unlit, used to call out the station name so that passengers knew when to get off
We children used to walk the couple of miles or so to school and back, carrying our gas masks which were in large round tin boxes like overgrown cocoa tins painted black and we found that with something sharp the paint could be scratched off, so most of us had our names, doodles and other drawings scratched on to them.
Our walk to school was flat, as was this part of the Wirral Peninsula, and to cross the electric railway line we used to go over the road bridge at Meols station. This bridge was dotted with tank traps and all vehicles going over it had to negotiate a tortuous route through these traps. The necessity of these traps was doubtful because we all thought that if the Germans did land on the coast nearby they could easily cross the railway lines without going over the bridge. I remember some of the cars crossing the bridge had huge gas bags attached to their roofs and the bags would ripple and flutter as the wind blew them. Our walk continued past a fire station were the siren was and sometimes they would be testing it as we went by and it was most deafening-was this the base cause of my tinnitus! There were air raid shelters dotted around, and some in the school playing fields, and occasionally we had an Air Raid Drill whereby we were marched around the playing field with our gas masks on, they smelt horribly of rubber and steamed up inside the visor so that we couldn’t see at all and had to hold hands with the persons in front and behind to find our way. The drill ended with us entering the shelters which were dark, dank and awful with long bench seats running along the sides where we would sit and sing songs.
I remember also the tank traps and coils of barbed wire all along the seafront promenade which was not far from us , again in anticipation of an invasion. Apparently, or so I was told, when the tide was out, fires were lit on the sands during raids to confuse the German bombers from dropping bombs on Birkenhead and Liverpool.
When the war was over all the streets in the neighbourhood were decorated with bunting, flags etc, and all we children were treated to street parties as splendid as the rationing would allow.

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