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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Lin Freeman of Radio Derby CSV on behalf of Mrs Mollie Carney and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

WAR DECLARED

September the 3rd 1939 was a Sunday and I was 10 years of age.
As usual I accompanied my Grandmother to Tintwistle church for the morning service. We walked up the road that cut straight through the village that connected Manchester with Sheffield.
The atmosphere was sad and fearful, people acknowledged one another quietly.
We sat in the family pew and the service began. The Rev. Taylor climbed up the pulpit steps. As usual my eyes went to his black leather covered artificial hand to watch him arrange his sermon notes. He had lost a hand in action during the Great War.
Instead he announced from the pulpit that the congregation was to return home when at 11am our Prime Minister, Mr Neville Chamberlain would make an announcement on the Wireless.

My Grandmother and I returned home and found my two aunts and uncle were already there. Our maiden lady neighbour, Miss Pickford, was invited to join us to listen to the broadcast.
At 11am we all stood up when the National Anthem was played and listened in silence to the Prime Minister inform us that we were now at war with Germany.

A silent gloom pervaded the room. My Grandmother had lost her eldest son in the Great War. Her other remaining son was present in the room. He too had served in the Great War but would never talk about it. Miss Pickford had lost her fianc茅e in the fighting in France early in the War.

After the broadcast we were all advised to test out our new gas masks. There was light relief when Miss Pickford鈥檚 bun that perched upon the top of her head interfered with the pulling on of her gas mask. Immediately everyone鈥檚 attention was on solving this problem.

At the age of ten I was susceptible to the atmosphere of fear and grief that filled the room. The Great War was not the war to end wars, after all I thought.
The Air Raid siren had been fixed on top of the Cooperative Stores building in the centre of the village. Its warning wail was tried out for all of us to hear followed by the All Clear. The sound over sixty years ago still has the effect of turning my stomach with fear of what to expect next.

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