大象传媒

This story was submitted to the Peoples war website by Sophie Taylor of Wigan Over 50's Forum on behalf of Edward Pierce and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was eleven when the war broke out and I remember hearing about it clearly. I was listening to the radio with my father, who served in WW1. As I turned to see his reaction he began to cry. I asked him what was wrong and he turned to me and replied "Nothing son, I was just remembering the last war." I knew this was a sensitive area for him as he lost many of his friends in the war.
At the beginning of the war my school shut down as many of the teachers had been sent away to fight, but later we began on half days. The lessons we had were of a very different kind though, gone were the days of maths, now we learned how to survive.
Air raid drills were introduced to ensure that if the worst happened, we were prepared. Of course, we never left the house without our gas masks.
One way I had of getting through the war was in my scout group. We carried on meeting and the normality of it helped us through the hard times.
It was hard seeing the telegram boy arriving in the mornings though. If someone was missing at school and the teacher asked where they, the worst answer to hear was that the telegram boy had arrived at their house that morning. It meant that a member of their family was missing, captured, or dead.
We, like many families, had an Anderson shelter in our garden and grew quite fond of it. We nicknamed it 'sodvilla' and used the top of it to grow marrows. It was an unpleasant sensation though to run into the shelter and land in a knee high puddle of cold murky water as we did many times.
One of my friends, who was a few years older than me, had joined the army at the beginning of the war. Sadly he was
captured and taken to a Japanese concentration camp. It was terrible not knowing what was happening to him. We had a POW camp not far from us. The prisoners were treated very well though.
There was lots of American soldiers arriving in Huyton too, and I remember one time on Remembrance Sunday when they approached us. It was a sad time for my father, remembering the war, but on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month we gathered to show our respect. The Americans came up to my father and asked if they could join us in our silence. Of course we agreed and felt a strong sense of togetherness as we stood side by side.
When VJ day came, my friend was released and returned home. I could hardly recognise him though, gaunt and thin. He had tuberculosis and was very ill in hospital for a long time.
My happiest time in the war was the end. Watching friends return was amazing, but there was also the growing sadness of those who would never return.

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