大象传媒

I was born in December 1945, so the war had in fact ended then, but I have very early memories of adults around me talking about it. I must have heard some sort of conversation about whether Hitler had really died in the bunker in Berlin or was still alive, because I can remember being afraid that he might climb in my bedroom window!

There were still remnants of wartime which affected my early years. The old black-out curtains were kept and put up at my bedroom window on stormy nights to keep out the draughts. My Nan saved her sweet ration for me and I remember going with her to the Co-Op with the ration book and hearing her complain about how many 'points' she needed for this and that.

Because I had never lived through any of the actual war itself it was always a thing of the past, and it is only looking back now, when it has become part of history, that I realise how recent it was to my childhood.

I had always loved listening to stories of what had happened in the family and my mother and grandmother were particularly good at relating them. Some of their tales I have told in 'Winnie's Story'. How interesting it is, too, to realise how oral family history ties in with greater world events. I can remember my grandparents talking about the 14-18 War, (the way they always referred to the First World War) and even the Boer War in the same way that I tell family stories of WW2 to my grandchildren today.

My husband and I have been lucky enough to buy a house in Normandy and we now know the region very well. We have many French friends, some of whom remember the years of the occupation only too well. Indeed, our house, a former village school, was commandeered by the SS. Some of the people who remember those days will talk about their experiences, but many won't. In spite of all the terrible raids and deprivations which happened in this country at least we never had to experience invasion.

I worked for twenty five years as a teacher, most of that time with children aged eleven and twelve years. For more than ten years I took children to St Lo in Normandy on a week's visit and some of our time was spent visiting Arromanches, the site of the Mulberry Harbour, Ste. Mere Eglise, where some of the the American Paratroopers landed and the military cemetary at Bayeux. Before we went I had to spend time telling them about the war and D-Day, and our involvement here on the South Coast in the embarkation. I had to tell them because they didn't know. They had heard of Hitler, but had no idea who he really was or what he did.

Occasionally I was criticised for taking them to the military cemetary, being told they were too young or they didn't need to know. But if we don't pass on to our children the knowledge of what happened and show them the headstones with the names of young men only a few years older than themselves then can we blame them if war becomes no more to them than a glorified adventure and numbers of dead soldiers and civilians no more than a score in a computer game? If they don't know, then in a few years ordinary folk won't be wearing poppies, they will only be seen on members of the armed forces and television presenters and politicians. If they don't know then they don't see why they shouldn't climb all over the local War Memorial or why they should pause for a minute on Armistice day. If they don't know what have they got to fill their thoughts in that minute's silence?

The politics, the military strategies, the battles of World War Two are all well documented but they don't interest everybody. Personal accounts, little domestic details, family triumphs and tragedies, these are the things which touch us all and it is these which we hope will make the younger generation realise that even though it ended sixty years ago, it has influenced their lives. It is so important that archives of personal memories are built up before they are lost for ever.