- Contributed by
- People in story:
- Thomas Victor Bettley
- Location of story:
- Article ID:
- Contributed on:
- 06 November 2003
My mother always maintained I was the cause of the war. Had I not arrived, Hitler would not have got upset. Sorry to everyone.
My first memory of war was a german bomber being chased and dropping his bombs in an effort to get away. I can still envisage it in my mind and we worked out I was only one at the time.(Is this special I wonder?)
I can also remember hiding under the table when the flying bombs came over and then hearing the spent bullets from the fighters chattering on the roof. I can place myself there now, father having a screw down bicycle lamp to keep us happy in the dark.
The german bomber was shot down at Lostock and the reason, I discovered later, why we hid under the table was because the air raid shelter was some way off and was quite often used as a sort of brothel. ( A lot of lonely wives.)
The last memory I can recall is seeing vapour trails from dog fights. The aircraft included Lockheed Lightenings. And then there were the D day tanks stored down what is now the bypass. We really enjoyed playing in those and no one ever stopped us. I had a shell trolley on a piece of string, at least I think it was, and still had it when I went to the isolation hospital with Scarlet fever.
As a final memory, I still hear flying bombs going over when I'm in bed now on occasion. Some dangers stay with you for life.
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