大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny Christian of the 2nd Air Division Memorial Library on behalf of Irene Barrett and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions

When the Second World War was announced on the radio by Neville Chamberlain in September 1939 I was 18 years old. The news for a long time had been very distressing with the invasion of peaceful countries by Hitler's Army.
Although I was not aware of the dreadful consequences to follow, my Mother assured me that it was most serious.

At this time my Father Henry Alfred Wicks was lying in bed paralysed, unable to wipe his own nose or turn the page of his book. This was all due to being wounded in the temple during service with The Royal Norfolk Regiment in Mesopotamia (now Iraq) during the First World War.
They were having target practice with dead bullets, but unfortunately one soldier had had bad news from home; he used a live bullet which entered my Father's head within an 鈪泃h of his brain. He was unconscious 7 days, the Doctor asked him how much cash he had, he told him the correct amount.

After my Brother Alfred was called up to spend 6 years in the Army my Mother had to run the smallholding as well as tend to an invalid, with my unpaid help. So I really should have realised what another War meant, as we had a good reminder with our bread winner laid low.

We heard the terrible bombing of Norwich, some people who had relatives in Necton until they thought it was safe to return. My parents slept in the sitting room, I slept in the room immediately above them, until one night, terrible explosions terrified me. Landmines were dropped, the whole cottage shook and curtains billowed out as I stood at the top of the curved stairs. It seemed as though the place would collapse. I ran down the stairs into the living room through to my parent's room and spent the rest of the night sleeping on an eiderdown beside the hearth. I never went upstairs again to sleep until the War ended in Europe, I slept in the living room.

One landmine was dropped at Sporle near the A47 turn to the village, some were dropped at Great Dunham near Hall Farm and very near to North Street where my late Husband鈥檚 family lived. There may have been other landmines that we were not informed about.
One foggy Saturday morning I was paying the paper man, the late Billy Ashman, all at once we heard a plane, it made a different sound, I told him "Its not one of ours". Only a short while after there was a violent explosion, it crashed onto Mona Farm property, not new houses, there were no survivors, luckily it missed the built up area.
Incendiary bombs were dropped on cottages at "The Row" West Dereham near Stoke Ferry, one cottage was completely destroyed. My Grandmother and her Sister lived in The Row, homeless people slept the rest of the night with their neighbours.

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