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This story was submitted to the website by Karolina Kopiec from ����ý GMR Action Desk on behalf of Dorothy Cope and has been added to the site with her permission.

My first memory “of war years” is going into the shelters at school and in the garden at home. We had to take biscuits, as our ‘iron rations’, we were in trouble if we had eaten them.

My father was a special constable (auxiliary police), and Monday night was his duty night. He always left mother at 9pm Monday night with the words, “Sleep well tonight for I’m guarding the town”.

Though so near to Manchester we fortunately missed the devastation caused by the German Bombers. A friend was unable to return home, the devastation was so great and lived the rest of her life at Dukenfield. Thankfully, Dukenfield and the towns close to us received little damage. The friend died very young.

Saturday morning was a ‘queuing morning’, and I was despatched to Hyde to buy a sweet cake, a special item. We had our own concert Party at Church called “The Unites”, which gave pleasure to all concerned. With no T.V. to watch we played cards and made our own amusements and helped each other through the dark and difficult days.

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