大象传媒

In 1940, or perhaps 1941, I was either five or six at the time and living in Slough with my parents. I'd started school, somthing I didn't approve of at all because I knew I was in for hours of boredom, when I could have been outdoors, playing in the fields! And it wasn't just the boredom I minded. On the way to school was a holly hedge, and every day a big boy pushed me into it.
This boy must have been all of eight years old, so he was big to me. He was called Raymond Parks. It wasn't possible to tell an adult what he was up to, that would be aneaking. I had to sort him out myself-and did.
For fear of gas attacks, we had to take our gas masks everywhere we went: and although the gas attacks never materialised, carrying my case turned out to be lucky-for me! One day, as I reached the hedge, Raymond jumped out at me as usual, but this time I was ready. My gasmask case, normally worn across the body, was hanging from my hand by its leather strap. Round and round I swung it, faster and faster, and caught him a beauty right in the face-SMACK! It was enormously satisfying! Blood spurted from his nose, he yelled with astonishment and pain-then, as I advanced on him, swinging the gasmask with meaning and menace, he ran away weeping, and never came near me again!
It taught me a valuable lesson. Nowadays retaliation is frowned upon; I see nothing wrong with it. My generation are Churchill's children-where would we have been if he'd thought it wrong to retaliate?
This story was submitted to the People's War website by Katherine Shannon of Canterbury Christ Church University, on behalf of Polly Taylor, and has been added to the site with her permission. Ms Taylor fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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