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This story has been inputted by a ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Bristol Peoples War Volunteer.

During the war my mother, along with many others, did voluntary work at the Y.M.C.A, which was at the bottom of Temple Way; a furniture showroom which was commandeered for use by the forces coming into BRISTOL TEMPLE MEADS.
The building was four storeys; one basement below ground which served as a storeroom, and air raid shelter. I remember a very old lady (everyone called her granny) who spent every day with 2 large tin baths in front of her, and sacks of potatoes which she spent all day peeling. One bath for the peeled potatoes, the other for those to be peeled.
The ground floor was a canteen with wooden tables and chairs and benches; where meals were cooked and served. Many loaves of bread were used to make sandwiches of cheese, spam etc.
The 2 upper floors were full of beds (200-300) which were fully used by many of the forces coming in from Temple Meads either to spend their leave here, or before heading elsewhere. My mother often brought men home to spend their leave with the family. I well remember one S. African airman, called Nigel Mylroie; my mother corresponded with his mother for many years.
Often, after I had returned home from evacuation, and during school holidays, I would go with my mother to the Y.M (as we called it) sometimes helping with the sandwiches, but more frequently helping to make and change the beds; with many still occupied and young men in various stages of undress. A thing that would be frowned on today; I was 12/13 years old.
At one time we had 2 American soldiers billeted with us. One was called Martin McCarthy, a former tax collector from St. Louis. My mother corresponded with them for many years and after his death still kept in touch with his wife, which I continued to do after my mothers death in 1973. Sadly his wife died 2 years ago at the age of 95; but I was able to make 2 visits to the family before her death and am still in touch with them.
The other soldier was a former theatre manager from Albuquerque, named Ray Haslett. He went over to France but was repatriated shortly after, as his only son was very ill with polio. He eventually moved home and we lost touch.
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Finally, I was in an air raid shelter very near to one of the biggest bombs dropped on BRISTOL, nicknamed SATAN. Fortunately it did not explode, which is why I am here to ‘tell the tale’.

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