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This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer fromRadio Suffolk on behalf of Molly Hulyer and has been added to the site with her permission. She understands the site's terms and conditions.

I had my twelfth birthday in July and in September 1939 the war broke out. I had an older brother who was twenty-two and he was sent to Burma. It was a surprise that he was considered A1 fit as he had always walked with a limp. I had another brother who was working for farmer when he was fourteen years old and badly injured his foot. Despite this injury he was determined to join the war effort and eventually was accepted into the RAF. He, however, landed up in Chedborough, close to us in Clare, where he flew Lancaster bombers in raids over Germany. He and his crew would cycle over the hills to Chilton Street where my mother would welcome them with a great treat of cheese and eggs. My mother was renowned for her hospitality and was very popular in the area. Despite having two sons away at war she appeared always calm and my childhood was very happy and quite normal. My father worked at the airfield and we owned several chickens and rabbits, so we always had plenty to eat. I remember giving my sweet ration to my father who had a very sweet tooth. In fact, I found the war quite exciting, we learned to distinguish between the different sounds of the aeroplanes and there were RAF and Army uniforms everywhere. At about fifteen or sixteen I began to deliver milk for a local farmer. I remember listening to the radio — Winston Churchill always made us feel confident.

However, I do remember one dreadful incident which brought the reality of war into my life. When a plane came down near Kedington, some friends and I decided to investigate. I still remember the horror of the scene with pieces of the airman’s flesh hanging from the tree. We were all shocked.

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