大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War Site by Three Counties Action, on behalf of Margaret Smith, and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

In 1939, when I was 3yrs old, war was declared and life was put on hold. We waited for the action to start.
Our air-raid shelter duly arrived. It was the 鈥楢nderson鈥� type made of corrugated steel and had to be sunk into our garden which was solid chalk. Hard work for Dad! We kitted it out with bunk beds and a hurricane lamp. Frogs, Newts and Spiders moved in.
We did not use it when our first 鈥榥ear miss鈥� bomb dropped in Limbury Road, demolishing houses, in one of which my husband, Roy, was born.

The air raid siren was on the roof of Seawards builders at the top of Neville Road where we lived but it did not sound. Dad threw me and mum under the kitchen table as soon as we heard the explosion.
Dad was called up in 1940 and disappeared from our lives for the next six years, except for a few home leaves. Then came the day he was off to Normandy. As we watched him go at the end of his 鈥榚mbarkation鈥� leave and he turned at the bend in the road to wave one last time, we wondered if we would ever see him again. A very emotional moment!

Letters from the war front were very spasmodic. There would be a worrying gap then a bundle would arrive at once having been censored for unauthorised information.
There was an influx of refugees from London. We had two boys staying with us. Schools could not cope with the extra numbers, so we only went for half days, alternating weekly 鈥� mornings or afternoons.
At Norton Road school we would practice emergency drills. Gas masks always at the ready. We had to dive under our desks if there was no time to get to the air raid shelters. These were long underground tunnels with seats along the sides and lit by hand-held torches. This was considered a great adventure.

It is difficult to imagine now just how dark the streets were at night. No house lights or shops, no street lamps and very dim lights on the few vehicles on the roads. You were always bumping into people, apologising and moving on, never feeling threatened. There were also pig bins to be avoided. These contained all our household scraps which would be collected and fed to pigs. The smell in the summer was dreadful. There were also smoke canisters. These stood about six feet high and were lit to provide a vile smelling smoke screen which should shield us from being seen from the sir.
It was a beautiful sunny day when the end of the war was declared. I was in the nearby fields when I saw Mum waving from the garden gate, shouting 鈥渢he war is over, Dad is coming home.鈥� But that did not happen for another year. At least he was safe and we could get back to some sort of normal life.

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