大象传媒

I was just turned twelve years old when the war broke out. The unknown was frightening; as war was announced on the radio fear seeemed to flow through my veins instead of my blood. We were a family of four.

At the age of fourteen I went to night school in Rochester. If a raid was on we would take shelter and head home when it was safe to do so. I would hurry home, running and walking as fast as I could. When I got to the Rochester Bridge I would stop and listen for planes; if clear I would sprint the 200 yards or so to the other side in fear of the bridge being bombed. Close by was the gas works and along the river the dock yard. All three were targets for the bombers. On evening I was running fast to get home. It was eerie; the search lights were scouring the sky, the guns were firing and planes were overhead. I was in the High Street when someone grabbed me and pulled me into a shop doorway. I was so frightened but it was a policeman. He had been sheltering and heard the whistle of shrapnel that was falling. It landed on the pavement where I had just been. It was about a foot long and very sharp and pointed plus hot.

I'm sure I owe my life to that man.

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Helena Noifeld and has been added to the website on behalf of Doris Sancto with her permission.She fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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