大象传媒

I was a little girl in World War 2. My name was Maureen Wood and I lived in Kingsley Road, Maidstone with my parents and Aunt and Uncle. My parents were Dorothy and John (Jack) Wood and my aunt and uncle were Irene and James (Jim) Browning.
My father was with the heavy artillery and my uncle was in the Field Artillery.
When there was an air raid in the daytime we just went about our usual daily routine. If my mother was not at work and I was not at school she would carry on with her housework and she would put me under the dining table with my toys, but if there was an air raid in the night it was a completely different matter. The 3 of us were scared and ran to relations who lived 6 houses away from us, I would get my teddy under one are and whatever else I wanted under the other arm and run as fast as I could. Of course we could not use torches to see where we was going and unfortunately on each side of the gateway to our relations house was a tall post made of bricks. This particular night I ran straight in to one of these posts. When I got inside the house I was dazed and cut. Everyone was fussing around me they thought I had been hit by shrapnel until my mother and aunt explained what had really happened and we had laugh about it (except me because my face was sore). We had some good times in their house, they had a piano and other neighbours came in and they had a sing along or played cards until the all clear sounded and we all went back to our own homes.

Other memories I have are standing in Kingsley Road with friends and watching the VI (Doodlebugs) go by at the bottom of our road and breathing with a sigh of relief when the engines did not stop and we knew we were safe.
I also remember the day my mother had a narrow escape. She used to work at Paynes Stores in Pudding Lane. She had just got to work and a bomb fell in Mill Street, sadly killing many people and if my mother had gone along that road a few minutes later to work she would have been amongst the dead or injured. I also remember when I had the measles very badly and I was not allowed to out for 3 weeks. When the siren sounded my mother got me out of bed and made me go under the bed in case the house fell on me. I hated it under the bed because it was so low and near the floor it felt like I was suffocating. Memories of that time were very sad because my best friend had a Uncle and his family living in Foster Street and their house was bombed, her uncle fortunately escaped but his wife was killed.
Her Uncle Jack Longhurst then went to live with my friend Marian and her mother Hilda Harris. Her father Jack Harris was in Burma and captured by the Japanese. In his civilian life he was a milkman and such a quiet inoffensive person. I remember when he came home from Burma he was like a little sunburnt withered old man. He sat on the back door step most of the time and didn鈥檛 say much but his head was probably full of many sad memories. He eventually just faded away and died.

My last visit vivid memory is when I got older and went to South Borough Junior School. When the siren sounded we had to collect our lunch box and go across the playground to the playing fields where underground air raid shelters had been built for us. It was horrible in there, it smelt of earth with water running all down the walls. We had to sit on long benches against the wall and eat our lunch if we wanted it or keep it in case we were in the shelter for a long time. From then onwards and until this day I suffer with claustrophobia because when we entered those shelters it was a nightmare for me and I will never forget it.

One other memory I have is the street party we had in Kingsley Road for VE day. All the children were in fancy dress and my mother hired an old-fashioned ladies outfit for me complete with a hooped petticoat and a bonnet. I was standing up handing out a plate of food and everyone started laughing at me. I wondered what the joke was until I turned road and saw a dog cocking his leg up against the hoops on my skirt. I did not find it very funny.

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