- Contributed by
- People in story:
- Joyce Lee
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- Contributed on:
- 03 January 2006
This story was entered onto the Peoples War website by Rod Sutton on behalf of Joyce Lee, the author, who fully understands and accepts the sites terms and conditions.
I was five years old when war broke out and living twenty miles north of London — my father was amongst the first to volunteer — and my memories of the whole war are of happy times — possibly because my mother was always calm when air raids came — there were several bad bombing raids near and adjacent to us but we were always in the “Anderson”. I remember being woken when the siren went and my mother trying to dress me in a “siren suit” (all in one trousers, top and hood with a zip front) and as soon as she put my foot in one leg I’d slide down sound asleep — our dog would bark at the door the instant the siren went to get down the shelter — I had a bunk just the length of the shelter and my mother and a lady lodger had deck chairs crossways so that their legs went under my bunk — when the inevitable happened and I fell out straight onto their laps the canvas on their chairs split and they were flat on their backs unable to get up!!!
There was of course great neighborliness — which was wonderful — our next-door neighbours had a Morrison Shelter which was indoors with a metal top — we had wonderful concerts tap dancing on top of it.
The V.E. celebrations were wonderful with big road parties — pianos out in the street etc. The only time I felt a bit nervous was towards the end of war when there were several doodlebugs come down around us and great loss of life — to see them stop in the sky was quite nerve racking and I was about eleven years old and could understand more of the dangers.
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