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This story was submitted to the People’s War website by a volunteer from Lincoln CSV Action Desk on behalf of Eileen Storr and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Storr fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I was 8 or 9 at the time. I can remember being in bed laid in bed at night — lying there listening to the bombers as our little cottage was in the direct flight path going out on the raids from RAF Scampton. I couldn’t count them on the way out as they were in batches but on their return I used to count them in one by one; very few returned.

My father was a farmer and so didn’t go away to war. He used to supply Scampton and we used to collect the swill from the messes to feed our 600 pigs.

He once brought a goat home and this goat ate all our washing off the line and mother was furious as we had to use coupons then. Our vests and underpants had been chewed and eaten by the goat!

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