- Contributed by听
- Hitchin Museum
- People in story:听
- Marion Woodbridge (nee Grant), parents Mildred and Charles Grant, brother Brian. Trinder family
- Location of story:听
- Hitchin, Hertfordshire
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A7234094
- Contributed on:听
- 23 November 2005
My first memory of the war is of exploring the air raid shelter that my family built at the end of our garden in Balmoral Road, Hitchin. Our next door neighbours the Trinder family also had a shelter and we made an opening under the fence so that we could join together and be company for each other in the event of bombing. Later in the war my father decided not to go down the garden to the shelter when the siren went saying he would rather die in his warm bed from bombing than die from pneumonia in a cold shelter.
My most vivid memory is of later in the war at the time of the flying bombs. The siren went and as usual I got into bed with Mum and Dad. We head the doodle-bug droning away getting closer. My mother shouted to my brother (who was seven years older than me) sleeping in the other room to put the pillow over his head. No response from him! The noise from the doodle-bug stopped; we held our breath; no noise. We later learned that the bomb had dropped in Pirton. My brother was furious next day that we had not woken him up to see the flying bomb go over.
I remember all the lorries parked in Balmoral Road in preparation for D-Day. The soldiers joined families in the road for warmth, talk and baths. I had a cat and one evening we could not find it. I was seven years old at the time and had a vivid picture of my cat being taken away in an army lorry to France to face the Germans, and I cried a lot. My mother asked the soldiers if they had seen the cat in their lorries. A lot of searching went on, but no cat found.
Later when we as a family were about to sit down for supper we pulled a chair out from under the table and there on the chair seat was a sleeping cat. We hardly dare mention this to the soldiers who had looked through their lorries for the cat.
Almost my last memory is of my mother kneeling down in the kitchen with tears of thanksgiving to God and of brave troops at the liberation of Paris.
This story has been submitted by Hitchin Museum on behalf of Mrs Woodbridge.
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