大象传媒

A child鈥檚 experience鈥︹�︹�︹��
The story of Rosina Sylvia Sunter.

I was four when the was started and ten when it finished and was what we called 鈥榝armed out.鈥�
At first when my father was called up into the army I lived with my mother in Monton, Lancashire. I was then sent to Thwaite Bridge Farm near Hawes in North Yorkshire with two great uncles and a housekeeper for six months. They just left me there to be safe. But eventually they came back for me and I lived both maternal and paternal grandparents, when my mother joined the army (N.A.F.F.I) and was posted to Shrewsbury in Shropshire.
During school holidays I stayed with Cousins in Salford as well as with my aunt Mary Anne and Uncle Jim in Liverpool. If no one else was available I would stay with both sets of grand parents.
Later, when my father went to North Wales for his army training my mother and I went too. We stayed nearby in a bungalow and having rented a big room I could enjoy the beach and no school.
We also went to London before his embarkation to Burma, staying in a monastery, which I remember well.
One summer I stayed on a farm near my mother鈥檚 camp near Shrewsbury for two months and saw my mother on her day off. The people had a little girl about my age and we played together happily, but the cottage had a thatched roof, which used to leak over my bed every time it rained and the wall by my bed was wet too!
I also stayed with my Auntie Margaret and Uncle Edward in Manchester. It was always freezing cold in bed, as I slept in the attic!

As you can see from the different places I lived, my life changed a lot during the war. Grandparents, Aunts, Great Uncles and housekeepers all looked after me in varying degrees. I learned to look after myself. It made me very independent and I think they quite often forgot I was around and I liked being outside, so I only came in when I was hungry. I may have missed my lessons, but I learned about life and was very happy. As an only child it was easy to attach myself to other families. Every time I came back home I seemed to have picked up a different accent and eventually at about seven years got sent to elecution and deportment lessons and ballroom dancing.

My worst memory has to be the bombing. We had daytime as well as night time raids. Once, I was hit by shrapnel on my left cheek as I ran with my grandma for shelter. It was very hot and burned my skin.
Many lessons were given in the cellars of my school during raids. We sat among our coats and shoes, as it was nearby our cloakroom. Often we sang songs, so that we would not cry when the bombs made loud bands nearby and always had to wait for the 鈥榓ll clear鈥� before we could go home.
One night a large bomb just missed our house. Mum and I were in the air-raid shelter dug into our garden. We heard it whistle paste us and it hit the Monton cinema. Two nearby houses were hit and all the peoples鈥� clothes ended up hanging in the trees.
Another night mum and I were on our way home, from visiting, when an air raid started. I was on my three-wheeler bike and the wardens kept on shouting 鈥淕et that child off the street鈥� I can remember peddling faster and faster to get home and into our shelter. At home we did not go to bed inside the home. We made cocoa and took it into the shelter and went to bed there.
My best memories of the war were usually connected with food:
1. Being allowed to spend the sweet ration each month
2. Being thrilled when we got a packet of chocolate wheat meal biscuits and my mother and I ate them all. I was nine years old but had never seen them before.
3. Learning to milk a cow with my great uncle Bernard. The milk was warm and grass floated in the bucked and we drank it just like that!
4. On my last day in primary school we had a raffle and I won a Jaffa orange. I dashed home and had to be shown how to peel and eat an orange. I was ten years old.

Rationing was a big part of my life. Every Friday evening, when staying with my maternal grandparents, I was sent off to the Co-op store, about two miles away. I had three adults and one child ration book, a list and money. The 鈥榣ist鈥� was always the same: - tea, sugar, butter, margarine, lard, cheese, eggs, jam, tinned fruit (always plums), candles, matches and soap. This order was put into my dolls pram and I pushed it uphill and home to my Gran as fast as I could, because it was often dark and I was afraid.

Another, very big part of wartime life for me was letters. These would be sent to us from my parents, Uncles, cousins etc and would be read out over and over, until the next one came. Everyone dreaded getting a telegram, as the usually brought bad news.

On VE day I was with my Gran and Grandpa and we listened to the wireless and heard the news. Neighbours then came in and we had a singsong. Grandpa played his Mandolin and uncle Joe played a mouth organ and the spoons. I sang with my Gran, all of the war songs and my favourite 鈥淭he white cliffs of Dover.鈥�
Cousin Sheila invited me to her 鈥榮treet party.鈥� We had paste sandwiches, jelly and mocka cream and fairy cakes.

Everywhere I stayed had their own community of family and friends who all helped each other. We knew we had to do our best and would win-through eventually.

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