"It was 1940, wartime, thoughts and sadness are still etched on my mind, I was 9 years of age and my brother John was 5. I have two sisters, Lillian, 11 and Charlotte 7.

At that time, bombs were falling all around and for quicker access to the Anderson Air Raid Shelter we were all sleeping in bed, in the Parlour. Mum and two sisters at the top, John and I at the bottom surrounded by feet. Off to the shelter in the back yard, our house received a direct hit by a landmine, which left the bottom half of the house standing but the blast flattened half the street.

My Mother had gone into the house to make us some cocoa and was killed. We were buried for 17 hours before digging our way through the rubble to the surface.

My two sisters were taken to Aunties in the country and that was the last we saw of them for some years. My father at the time was in the Army, where he won the Military Medal at Dunkirk.

There was no supervision just chaos all around, as you can imagine, with all the men away in the Army and the women in the factories for the war effort. Food and shelter was scarce and I took charge of a small band of children, the youngest a girl of 5 years old.

We lived very close to the main railway line and a prime target for the German bombers. There were some large asbestos pipes opposite where we lived and I lined them with cardboard and any rags or clothing we could find. That became our home for some 6 weeks with no one caring for us.

I vividly remember taking an overcoat off a dead man's body for our bedding and having to shake out the severed arm that came with it. We saw lots of horrible things and became blasé in our efforts to survive.

No one came to round us up and I became quite used to giving orders as to where and which shop we could steal food from. Funnily enough a field by us also had a harvest of turnips, it was a good stand by food, just please do not serve me turnips if you invite me to dinner.

One of the saddest things to happen to my little gang was when I told a little girl it was her turn to go up the railway bank and look for coal that fell from the railway coaches. I had to designate jobs to all, as that was the only way to survive.

Unfortunately an air raid happened and the railway lines were bombed again and my little helper was killed, her body was never found. This guilt remained with me and is still on my mind. It was pointed out to me that it was not my fault and at least all the rest of my gang survived thanks to my care and organisation.

This was brought home to me quite recently when I was contacted by one of my ex gang members who now has just retired having a large helicopter business in America. He presented me with a Welsh Bible, I was very grateful.

At last it happened!! We were rounded up and the best thing that could have happened was the fact that we were evacuated to Wales. It saved my life for certain. I can't recall the journey except for the fact that I lost my little box with my gas mask in it. Not to worry, I would not need it now."