- Contributed by听
- Lancshomeguard
- People in story:听
- Edna Bickley
- Location of story:听
- Wilmslow, Cheshire and Manchester
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A5315843
- Contributed on:听
- 25 August 2005
The war commenced when I was just thirteen years old and it wasn't long before the government declared that all children living in cities were to be evacuated to the country with the consent of a legal guardian. Coming from Manchester I was relocated to Wilmslow in Cheshire where I remained in the company of two school friends until the year 1940.
To describe my personal experience of the Second World War as a child would be to recall the tormented cries of sirens, the ensuing dimly lit street lamps, and the increasingly familiar illumination of torch light in anticipation of absolute darkness. With such inevitability the lifeless yet indispensable surroundings of a proximate air raid shelter became a frequent manner of defence where the distinct sound of cascading shrapnel showering all in its vicinity shadowed the oppressed pounding of descending ammunition both near and far.
In the face of inevitable adjustment the united efforts of civilian and armed force conduct encouraged the preservation of everyday life. I left school at the age of fourteen at which time it was necessary to find work and as the war progressed, ration books and clothing coupons were introduced. Despite such limitations however, the black market never failed to supplement additional requirements so it was rare to be left without.
Less than three years later the unrelenting war continued but at seventeen I was young and like many others wanted to experience life as an adolescent should, so a night of dancing in Manchester's city centre became customary. At this time the United States had joined the war and while the British army was fighting abroad the presence of American soldiers led inevitably to relations with local women in the midst of troubled times. Needless to say I too became involved with a young ally named Danny until 1944 when he was dispatched and killed in action during the Omaha Beach invasion.
Only then did I truly appreciate the extent to which thousands of people were losing their lives prematurely as a result of daily conflict. Unlike today we did not have the luxury of television and seldom read the newspapers so life as a youngster often meant being blissfully unacquainted with the true level of devastation that was occurring on a universal scale.
Despite the end of the Second World War in 1945 it would be foolish to assume that life would resume as it had before 1939. As a result of six years' conflict many changes had taken place and whether people's involvement could be described as direct or indirect the ensuing effect for many was often comparable.
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