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The German Air Force bombed Fulwell on a number of occasions. We usually had plenty of warning beforehand by the Air-raid sirens. Fulwell鈥檚 was mounted on top of the fire station close by. The siren would start slowly with a low pitch humming sound that rose higher to a warbling crescendo as the revolutions increased. The five of us kids were tucked up in bed during one such raid. We were all snuggled down under the blankets fighting to have a foot over the hot water bottle or the hot fire plate that was wrapped under the blanket at the bottom of the bed. An almighty crash suddenly shook us. We simultaneously poked our heads out from beneath the blankets to find broken glass, plaster and splinters of wood all over the bed and room. We now could see outside through where the blacked out windows had been.

Bombs had hit the farm across the road causing a great deal of damage. The animals there, however, were not so fortunate. Their bodies were strewn everywhere. Horses, cattle, ducks and hens. Luckily no humans were injured.

Another night I watched the aftermath of an air raid when the laundry and the bus depot were hit. From behind the curtain I watched in amazement. Looking through the upstairs window I could see down the road, that both were well ablaze. At the bus depot the bright orange flames were shooting high into the night sky, with clouds of black oil laden smoke billowing out of the silhouetted buildings. The wind lifting the burning embers through the clouds of smoke high over the rooftops. Like twinkling stars dancing in the sky they were swept on over Fulwell, some floating down to earth as their brightness diminished.

The fire at the laundry was of different colours, some bright yellows, with flashes of white flames and occasional explosions. Clouds of white and black smoke spilled out of the buildings.

The next morning, as always following an air raid, we would be out with our little carts scouring the bombed area鈥檚 looking for the spoils of war. We would collect shrapnel, spent bullets and indeed any pieces of shining metal. On one such occasion I picked up a shiny yellow metal tube like object. Being very curious I rushed back home with it to show my parents. They where not at home so my curiosity took over. Poking a piece of metal down inside I found a hard, white powder like substance in side. What is it? Must have gone through my mind. Carrying it over to the fireplace and setting it down upright in the hearth was my next move. Then for some reason I began pushing paper and splinters of wood down inside and then setting fire to them. Nothing happened with my first attempts so I kept on trying then something inside started to spark very brightly with a shimmering glow. Dropping it onto the hearth I made a hasty retreat. The glow turned into a whoosh of rocket like intensity, showering the room with sparks and clouds of white smoke. I was off like a shot.

I can remember the barrage balloons, the smoke machines, the concrete defences and the guns on the cliff top. There were lots of places to explore and things to do. We were very adventurous. Most of our days were spent exploring, climbing over rubble and in and out of bombed or derelict buildings.

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