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This story was submitted to the People’s War Site by Kyle Spooner, for Three Counties Action, on behalf of Margaret Carter, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I was living on Bolton Road in Luton, when the landmine struck the bus depot on Park Street. I can remember my dad picking me up and carrying me out of the house in the middle of the night, as he ran with me down into the shelter I looked back at our house to see all our windows had disappeared from the blast.

The communities in Bolton Road was full of what were called ‘honorary’ aunts and uncles, doors were never locked and you could just walk in and make yourself at home. My father had an allotment with dickens and surplus of food was either given or bartered. My mother would send us before school to check on the few elder members of the community and invite them for breakfast, something that is lost today.

I can also remember tanks travelling along Park Street on manoeuvres, while POW’s kept watch on the streets at night. They were mainly in the field most nights but sometimes they would come into the towns to socialise with the people. As a child I didn’t feel threatened by the aspects of war, as I didn’t know any different. I was born into the war and grew up with it. My father was in the fire watch, based at Charles Clay in Cheapside.

At the end of the war we as children celebrate in the parks, partly as the rest of the town were celebrating and we didn’t want to be left out.

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