大象传媒

We lived in Southall and I was just 11 years old when it started. I used to get up early every morning to go shrapnel hunting. My sisters, friends and I used to play in dry bomb craters and bomb damaged houses with blown off doors and broken windows that the owners had left as unliveable. I had no worries about relatives being lost in battle. One of my uncles was too old, another was retained locally as a policeman and my father had his left thigh smashed in the First World War rendering him unfit for the Second World War. But I used to go with him on fire watch in a local school sometimes.

Our air raid shelter was dug in the front garden because dad was proud and did not want to spoil the back lawn. The shelter seemed very small for two adults and two children so Dad slept in the downstairs front room. One night a land mine fell in the street next to ours. All I heard was windows shattering and roof tiles falling. It was pitch dark and Mum and Dad had no idea how much house was still standing or if the rest was going to stay up or collapse. Mum told sister and I to stay in the shelter. She climbed out and I could hear the tiles breaking under her feet. She called through the window 'Are you alright Charlie?' Dad said, 'Yes, don't come in!'
More tile crunching and Dad said, 'Don't come in, I can't find my * trousers!'

I felt so guilty just after the war when I became old enough to realise that so many people had been killed, wounded or lost their homes because I had a lovely war with only one scare.

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Helena Noifeld of 大象传媒 Radio Kent and has been added to the website on behalf of Peter Battell with his permission. He fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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