大象传媒

In 1939 I (Fay Yarnold) was 5 years old and I lived at 14 Worboys Road, St Johns, Worcester with my parents and younger sister Joy. I was about to start school and was due to see the school doctor for a general examination. The doctor discovered that I had enlarged tonsils, which meant I had to spend several weeks in hospital, therefore missing my first important year at school.

It became common practice for a policeman to arrive at my family home to tell my parents that I was haemorrhaging badly in hospital and that they should come at once to me. Once while my Father was waiting outside the ward he got into conversation with another gentleman waiting who said he had been sent for as he was needed to give blood for a young child who was haemorrhaging badly. This turned out to be me and my Father told the poor man in no uncertain terms that he wasn鈥檛 having blood from a stranger for his daughter as he would give his own! Because our blood group was different this wasn鈥檛 possible and I can鈥檛 remember whether I actually needed a transfusion.

It was whilst I was in the infirmary that I realized there was a war going on as every night each child was wrapped in a red blanket and taken to the air raid shelter for the night. This was a daunting experience for me. Each morning we were returned to the ward where breakfast was served. This was always porridge, cold, lumpy and grey and with plenty of salt in it as I recall. I complained bitterly that it was nothing like my Mom made and I wasn鈥檛 going to eat it!

In happier times when I wasn鈥檛 in hospital me and my sister would play in the garden and we were really excited when we saw a plane soar above us so low that we could see the pilot. We waved cheerfully at him not knowing then that he was the enemy who would bomb the Mecco Factory, which was just down from us.

The end of the war brought with it great celebrations in Worboys Road and our family held an open house to the Street. My Dad dragged our piano into the garden for good old knees up! A friend turned up with a couple of American GIs who bought us gifts of biscuits and sweets, which we loved! At the end of the day, poor old Dad was dismayed to see his lovely green lawn had disappeared under so many feet dancing. The only green patch left was under the piano!

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Rosemary Jauncey of the CSV Action Desk at 大象传媒 Hereford and Worcester on behalf of Fay Stephens and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

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