大象传媒

Being a somewhat curious child, I would often ask my nan what it was like to live during the war, and she was often more than willing to tell me.
When the war started she was only seven, but she is able to remember most of it. One of the things she often told me was that her dad worked in some sort of munitions plant next to Dartford town centre, and that the Nazi's would often try to bomb it, though without much success as her dad lived on until well past the end of the war.
Another story she often told me was that, when the Americans arrived, her mother often used to bake cakes and other food, and hand out to them as they passed in their tanks (This may have been exaggerated slightly, though I believe this solely because I find it difficult to picture a tank rolling down the street in Dartford of all places), jeeps or whatever else vehicles they used. She would also often tell me of the terror she felt when Doodlebugs passed overhead, and when the buzzing noise ended. I can only imagine what this must have felt like. Apparently one day, on her way back home from school she was with a friend. They parted way at the end of a road, and when my nan reached the end of it a doodlebug dropped on her friends house.
And as for the title of this story? Well, the most often recounted tale would be of her dad shouting at her to 'get down that shelter!' everytime the sirens went off, or a doodlebug could be heard in the distance.

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