I hadn't been to work very long after leaving school at 14. When we in Birmingahm were subjected to very heavy bombing raids, so after working eight and a half hours all day I arrived home to go straight into the shelter.
We had our evening meal in the shelter and mother made a bed ready for my sister and I to sleep in the shelter for the night. At this time we couldn't go to bed as the enemy planes were overhead and the bombs were falling.
The shelter was an home made one that my father built, it was a platform on top of the cellar steps and under the stairs. Everyone thought that was the safest place in the house as when they saw bombed buildings it seemed that the stairs were almost always left standing, unless there was a direct hit.
The worst night was when the air raid went on over Birmingham for 19 hours none stop.
We were very lucky because we lived in a valley with factory's all around on the hills, we didn't get hit. They were also trying to hit Lucas's who were round the corner from where we lived. Bombs, Land Mines, Incendary Bombs fell all night long.
My father was outside with the other men putting out Incendary Bombs and helping whoever needed it in the area.
A dreadful time.
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