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I was born in York and we went to Bermuda. Then my father bought a new house in Woolwich when we came back.
The houses on either side of our house were empty. The Canadian Royal Artillery was living in them. They manned the anti-aircraft guns and searchlights behind our estate in the playing fields. My father had a brick shelter built in our back garden. It wasn’t comfortable. Very small with just two bunk beds and a single bed, so we didn’t bother to go in. They were bombing the docks and it was only stray bombs that came to Greenwich and Woolwich.
In September 1939 I was eleven. There was a German fighter plane at chimney level with a spitfire or hurricane on its tail. I could see the German pilot. I was by the garage and an empty cartridge case came down and hit me on the head on my steel helmet. It knocked me to the ground. So they decided to send me away. I was evacuated to Wilton near Bournemouth from Woolwich in London.

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