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I was 6 years old when the war began. I lived in a small village in North Devon, the nearest big town was Exeter.

I don’t have memories of being bombed but I do remember the gradual disappearance of men, my father included. There were only old men and young boys left. Farmers lost their workers and women took over, helping each other. Because of this the women grew extremely close.

Everyone felt that they must ‘do their bit’ for the war. We listened to the radio for ‘news’ and sang all the different wartime songs.

We had to follow strict instructions:
· Blackout (no lights to be seen at all on the streets)
· All road signs and signposts were removed
· Food was rationed so we grew as much as we could in our gardens, there were no more ‘pretty gardens’.
· We all had to carry gas masks and fall flat on the ground if we heard the sirens. We practiced this drill at school.
· We were continually reminded that careless talk cost lives and that strangers could be spies.

Many children were evacuated to our village and we were initially rather suspicious of them. The Americans also came and gave us many parties.

A vivid memory of our V.E. party held in the middle of our village was when a huge chestnut tree was burnt down. When my father returned from the war it was his responsibility to put the village back into order and he planted another chestnut tree in its place.

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