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STORY 1:

I lived in Paisley, Scotland. Clydebank, where the oil refineries were, wasn’t far from where I lived. There was a three night blitz on Clydebank. We had an Anderson Shelter in the garden and on the third night I was so tired I said to my mother ‘I won’t bother going to the shelter’. She insisted that I came down. While we were in the shelter, there was a loud explosion. An aeroplane had flown with a couple of bombs which hadn’t been used; the pilots dropped the bombs on the estate that I lived in. One had landed opposite our house, and a large paving stone was thrown up in the air, it came through our roof and attic. When I went back up to my bedroom, this huge paving slab was lying on my pillow!! If my mother hadn’t made me go down to the shelter I would’ve been killed.

STORY 2:

I had a cousin who lived in London, who had a little girl aged 4. Every night they had to go to the underground shelters to hide from the bombs. They were so exhausted and nervous that they asked my mother if they could come and stay with us in Scotland for a rest. They stay with us for two months, during which time the bombing in London seemed to calm down. So they decided to go to my Grandmother’s in Ipswich and stay there for a little while. There was no bombing at all in London for weeks, so they decided to go home. The very night they went home the bombing started again, there was a direct hit on their house. My cousin, her husband, the little girl of 4, and his mother were all killed

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