大象传媒

This is a memoir written by Mrs.Alma Lloyd of Neath and placed on the site by Neath Port Talbot Libraries with her permission.

There are many people who grew up during the war who, in many ways, feel that as youngsters they were deprived of the many joys that childhood can bring. Now that the years have flown and many have become parents and proud grandparents it is perhaps right and fitting that children to-day can have an insight into what happened to children a few generations ago.

There are many childhood memories of the war that I can recall e.g., the rationing of food and more importantly to me the rationing of sweets. Coupons were issued to children to have a few ounces of sweets per week, and I can recall saving up my coupons so that I could enjoy my favourite caramel sweets, which are still my favourite to-day.

13th August 1940 is a night that I have never forgotten. In the early days of the war not too many people had air-raid shelters, and my parents, my sister and myself would get out of bed as soon as the air-raid siren sounded and huddle underneath the stairs.
We had blankets, emergency drinks etc., because to go under the stairs was not to know when we could emerge. We could hear the bombs falling, which at that time we thought were on Swansea, but that night they dropped nearer home. Our house was a terraced house, and in those days a terraced house meant the toilet was down at the bottom of the garden. During the air raid that night , I was awkward and decided that I wanted to use the toilet. My mother wrapped an eiderdown around me and my father took me out. Until that time I had never seen the sky lit up with searchlights,
The procedure being that as soon as the air-raid siren sounded my parents roused us and down the stairs we all trooped. In retrospect I honestly cannot remember being scared until that night when my father and I were running down the garden path.
The sky was ablaze, the woods at Briton Ferry were lit up like a beacon, which no doubt they were for the enemy bombers searching for Swansea, which geographically
is only a few miles across the bay. Just before we reached the toilet, a bomb came
whistling down, after all these years, I can still hear the whistling noise that it made, and then what could be called a DEAFENING SILENCE. At that point (funny I suppose in retrospect) my father literally threw me head first (that is what is wrong with me) into the toilet, and I can remember thinking what a place to die, in the toilet we stayed in the toilet for the rest of the air raid. My mother and sister were petrified and when we eventually returned they were in a worse state than we were.

That night houses etc., were demolished but more tragically a Mr. Harold Llewellyn Cockwell who was an air-raid warden on duty, was killed. The bomb that had whistled over me in the toilet landed, unfortunately, nearer Mr. Cockwell and he paid the ultimate price.

Later on in the War the American soldiers arrived, they set up a supply depot in Briton Ferry and many Briton Ferry children were the recipients of kindnesses in the way of sweets, chocolates etc.

To move to the end of the war which is equally memorable to those children and adults who lived through it , was to be able to walk in streets that were lit and for many of us we could not remember how this was before the war, so we saw our town lit up for the first time. Black outs on windows were taken down, and I can remember my father chopping ours up and saying he hoped we would not have to live through such an experience again.

Servicemen were slowly returning home, most of who were young boys when they were called-up. For the most part my friends and I awaited them anxiously because we knew they would be bringing home bananas.

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