- Contributed by听
- salisburysouthwilts
- People in story:听
- Betty Collins
- Location of story:听
- Salisbury
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A5857725
- Contributed on:听
- 22 September 2005
War did not mean a lot to the children of Salisbury who were born around 1930. There was rationing, the sound of aeroplanes going overhead every night, there were convoys of tanks and lorries going through the town, evacuees from Portsmouth sharing our homes and a large map of Europe on the kitchen wall where we coloured in Hitler鈥檚 advancing army. And there was my handsome cousin, Peter Snell, home on leave from the Navy, handsome and debonair in his Sailor鈥檚 uniform.
But life was the same; friendships, games and the fun of growing up in a friendly environment. Until one day there was a knock on the door. It was my Auntie Floss with tears running down her cheeks and a telegram in her hand. H.M.S. Dunedin had been torpedoed and her Peter was gone.
That鈥檚 when I knew the meaning of war.
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