- Contributed by听
- Anne Rosa Coward
- People in story:听
- My mother, my nan, my grandpa, me.
- Location of story:听
- Portsmouth 1942
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A3832283
- Contributed on:听
- 26 March 2005
Once again the air raid sirens had souded in the middle of the night, once again the adults went about their allotted tasks. My mother wrapped up my baby brother, nan grabbed the torch, the emergency supplies and the bucket, and grandpa hauled me up onto his shoulder and off we all went into the Andersen shelter in the back garden. Once we were settled grandpa did what he always did. He stayed outside shouting encouragement and advice to "ours" and just the opposite to "theirs". On this particular night he suddenly yelled, "Hey, come and see this!!"
We crept out and peered anxiously skywards. A plane was spinning round out of control, flames pouring from the engines. It was "one of theirs" " Serves you right you b" shouted grandpa. I was four. I said "A little girl`s daddy is in there"
Silence from the adults. We went back into the shelter. That was over 60 years ago. I still dream of burning planes.
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