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When war broke out in September 1939, I was 4 years of age. My parents owned a small newsagent/tobacconist and confectionery shop in the East End of London. I had two younger brothers, John and Michael. Mother was a trained nurse and midwife. Dad was Hebrew, and he had come to England in 1908 when some Germans began to spit at Jews in the streets. Following Britains entry into the war London became dangerous due to bombing. Our family was evacuated to "Lawn Cottage", a little cowman's cottage in a corner of a field in the Sussex countryside. Dad remained in London to look after the shop, coming home at weekends by train. We children had never before seen sheep nor cows, and we were excited. There were caves in some rocks by the field, and John and I played all sorts of games there. The cottage had no gas, electricity or hot running water, nor mains drainage. Mother had to work very hard, but she did not mind because she was strong and loved the countryside. We had a radio which we called "the wireless" and which was powered by a battery known as "an accumulator", so our parents heard the news bulletins. Later, a telephone was installed at the cottage. In January 1940 there was severe weather — and a new arrival. We welcomed a sister, Margaret, into the family. A German girl, Irma, was sent by the authorities to us as a home help. However, "Lawn Cottage" turned out not to be a safe place during the war! German bombers coming across The Channel were spotted at the coast, and the RAF was alerted, our Spitfires taking to the air and meeting them over our cottage with air battles ensuing. Often the Germans would drop their bombs to lighten their load before escaping back to Germany. Mother had to bring Margaret indoors in the pram, as shrapnel and bullets made holes in the cabbages in the garden. The field was used by the infantry for firing practise, and the officers called a ceasefire when Mother wheeled the pram across to take us shopping. In the evenings the officers would come and sit in our kitchen whilst Mother made huge jugs-of cocoa.When I reached the age of 5 years, I began attending the local primary school. Then in 1942 our parents sold the shop in London and bought a grocery shop in Brighton. Dad came home to live with us there. Again, Mother and Dad worked very hard, due largely to food rationing and coupons. If you made a mistake in the returns, you could go to prison. At about this time, Dad was found to be terminally ill with cancer. Mother arranged for a young woman, Doris, to take care of us sometimes. Doris took us to the sea front, where there were anti-aircraft guns, and we watched the soldiers gambling. The beach was mined and there were huge concrete blocks and barbed wire in case of a German invasion. Doris used to go dancing with her soldier friend, Charlie, and demonstrated the "jitterbug" to amuse us. In the basement of the shop there was an Anderson Shelter and at night when the German aircraft came over and the siren or air raid warning sounded, the family would get out of bed and hurry down to the shelter which was a sort of strong metal cage. We children were very frightened, especially as the siren made an eerie wailing noise.In April 1944 when I was just 9 years old, our Dad died. Mother took us to live in Worthing, and shortly afterwards the lease on the shop expired. She was left penniless, because she was not eligible for the Widow's Pension as she had been married a few days short of ten years. There was no Social Security, and National Assistance was brought in later. So she took domestic work to keep the family fed and housed. At one time, when John's only pair of shoes was being mended, Mother had to carry him across the road through the snow to school in his bedroom slippers - the slippers had a hole cut in the toes because his feet had grown too big . Once on a Saturday when fortunately there were no children in school, a German aircraft strafed the school with bullets, making holes in the desks. In April 1945 Mother contracted pneumonia and had to spend several weeks in hospital. My brothers stayed with friends, and Margaret and I became boarders at a convent school. This was a very unhappy time for us, and I remember nothing of the end of the War. However, Mother recovered, and we were reunited, my Mother and brothers and sister and I, From then onwards we had a happy home life, and Mother went back into nursing. But we greatly missed our Dad.

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