大象传媒

I was 15 years old when the war started. I lived in a big Victorian house in London.
when the raids started in September 1940 they continued non stop for 56 nights.
We would hurriedly change into slacks and sweater and make our way to the wet, damp, Anderson shelter at the bottom of the garden, where we stayed until the next morning.

In the middle of September our house scored a direct hit, leaving a pile of rubble where three houses had stood. Our neighbours were killed but we were saved by the Anderson. We had relatives living close by who took us in. My father and Uncle dug out our shelter which we took with us. A few months later in May our relatives house was hit by a landmine which was an even more horrifying experience. Lorries and cars blown up into the trees and fire all around! once more our shelter had saved us. Blast does strange things. It had sliced the house leaving a wall intact and we could see the mug on the bathroom shelf which contained my father's false teeth, (yes he took them out at night)
I climbed up a ladder and retieved them.

Moving on again some goods and chattels were piled into a lorry. My cousin's and I climbed into the back. We were just about to drive off when we noticed a movement in a sack by my feet, realising they were chickens I leapt over the tailboard. As my father remarked "she's more afraid of those chickens than bombs!"
The only cheer that morning was when the postman handed my mother a postcard to say my brother had completed the first part of the journey to the East safely. This was such a relief bearing in mind how many ships were lost at that time

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