大象传媒

I was born the year the war started so I don't remember about the early years or the occasion we were bombed and subsequently buried in the air-raid shelter under the rubble of our house. I don't remember the Queen visiting Plymouth and presenting my mum and dad with the keys of a new house. I have a picture of that occasion in a book about the Royal Family in wartime. I was sitting on my dad's shoulder (I was two) with him in his ARP uniform - he always swore he held me because he was afraid of messing up a salute to Her Majesty.
The earliest memory I have is of a moonlit night with the stars twinkling in the sky. I must have been three or four. The sirens were screaming and I was running down the garden path to the shelter. My dad worked in Devonport Naval Dockyards so our house was not far from Hitler's favourite target. Now, over sixty years later, a moonlit night still has the power to remind me of that night and the sound of a siren still has the power to make me shiver.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.