大象传媒

My first memories of the war are being in an air-raid shelter in London. My father had joined the RAF, and my mother had five children to look after. One night was spent in an underground station as it was thought to be safer as a very heavy raid was expected. People lay in rows across the platform.
Shortly after this we moved to Coney Weston in Suffolk, my mother's birthplace. We were taken in by a Mr. and Mrs. Hogs in their large house.
Later we moved into a cottage in Hopton, the next village. Most nights were spent sleeping under the bed, as though we had moved from London to avoid the bombs, we were now living next door to an American airbase.
We used to count the planes going out and coming back so we knew if anyone had been lost on a mission. My mother used to do the laundry for the Americans (Yanks), but sometimes it was picked up by someone else, as the owner hadn't returned. They usually came with chewing gum for us children.
One particular event I shall always remember; we were all coming out of school, when a German plane swooped through the village firing its guns at us children. My brother stood outside the back door of our house, calling us in, and bullets hit all around him.
Another thing has always stuck with me; I stood and watched outside the village hall,as the evacuees arrived and waited to be picked to go to different homes.
We also had a Flying Fortress crash land in the field at the bottom of our garden. Luckily, the crew all survived.

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