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This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer from BBc Radio Suffolk on behalf of Geoffrey Lloyd and has been added to the site with his permission.
Geoffrey Lloyd fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was twelve years old when war broke out and was on holiday on a farm with a school friend at Ashey on the Isle of Wight. His mother called us in to hear an important speech by the Prime Minister on the radio. We heard Chamberlain say that the Germans were still fighting the Poles and, consequently, we were now at war with Germany.

My parents ran a hotel in Shanklin and very soon after this we received eighteen evacuees from East London — sixteen boys and two teachers. They stayed with us for about two years. My father had a printing business in London and was a member of the Home Guard in Bermondsey but came home for most weekends.

Above Ventnor on Boniface Downs there were three radar towers (which were about 150 ft. tall, like modern electric pylons but made of wood). These were frequently the target of Luftwaffe planes but, as far as I am aware, they were never severely put out. At other times, Portsmouth and Southampton were targets of daytime attacks and, occasionally, German bombers on their way home, in an effort to lighten their load and thus travel faster, released their unused bombs over the Island and caused casualties.

When I reached fifteen, I joined the ARP (Air Raid Precautions which later became Civil Defence). I was a bicycle messenger with regular overnight duties (usually on a Saturday) in the Town Hall with other Civil Defence people and also I had to turn out if there was an air raid alert. My duties included carrying messages between the Town Hall, where the head warden co-ordinated activities, and wardens who patrolled during air raids in various parts of Shanklin town. One Sunday afternoon at about 4.00, the air raid siren sounded and, as a messenger, I was obliged to report for duty. On the way there four Focke-Wulf 190 (German fighter bombers) flew low over the town and dropped their bombs and fired off their canons as they returned towards France. I reported for duty at the town hall and, perhaps, an hour or so later, we heard that at least one bomb had hit the local bus depot ( rather bizarrely this had been camouflaged with green and brown paint which, arguably, made it seem more of a target than it warranted) which included the fire station. A small army lorry arrived at the Town Hall dressing station where I was on duty and two soldiers jumped out and asked me to help with the stretcher. As I was helping them, the blanket covering the body fell off and I saw that this was merely a human torso minus head and limbs, a dreadful and unforgettable sight. At the time I was not that shocked but I still remember it to this day. Very sadly, I also discovered that one of my close friends, another fifteen year old, had been on duty at the fire station and was one of those killed by the bombs.

I have another recollection of life in Shanklin at this time. In the early part of 1944 some strange construction work was begun at the rear of the hotels in Shanklin along the sea front. Behind, there were 150 ft cliffs and we could look down on this building work from above on the cliff path. All we could see were some buildings being constructed at ground floor level with an upper floor, but this was left only half constructed. On top of this floor was just a pile of builder’s rubble together with old beds, chairs and other household waste leaving the appearance of being merely a damaged and deserted building site. It was not until the D-Day landings that we discovered that this unfinished building was in fact housing pumping stations for PLUTO (pipe line under the ocean) — this was required for pumping vehicle fuel from England under the sea to the Normandy beaches to support the landings and the fighting in France. We were not aware of any pipes, etc. as all the beaches were out of bounds and heavily fortified.

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