War years as a Civilian or CHild

This story has been written onto the BBC People’s War website by CSV Storygatherer Carole on behalf of Terence Squires. The story has been added to the site with her permission. Terence Squires fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

I suppose it started for me in 1941 aged 6. I can remember the bombs dropping on Lowestoft. I remember my mother getting us out of bed, taking us (2 brothers, 1 sister a baby) downstairs to the kitchen to go under the stout kitchen table, or sometimes in the cupboard under the stairs. Then later some workmen came and dug a big hole in the garden, put brick walls and a corrugated roof on it and a door. There were 4 bunks beds and a paraffin heater where mother made us soup and bread (no butter). To go into the shelter we went down 3 steps thus creating a space from bottom step to the door; I think they call it a well. One night after a raid we heard the all clear siren but when mother tried to open the door it only opened 6 inches — there was large piece of shrapnel jamming the door. We got out later after a lot of shouting.
My older brothers and I used to go around collecting shrapnel. Some shone like gold but most times it was hot or warm. One morning, I can’t quite remember which morning but it must have been a Saturday because we had no school that day, we were only a few streets away from home but we walked into a Wrens’ Barracks and we saw dead bodies, arms, legs, and we ran home crying, well I was. Apparently it was bombed the night before.
Now, I think it was June 1942, not sure of the year, but it was summer — light nights. We were playing outside our house in the street with our friends, when one shouted “Messersmitze!” It came down low firing its guns. My brothers pushed me over a garden wall (all the railings had been cut off) and if I close my eyes i can still hear the thud thud of the bullets hitting, either the road or the garden wall. Of course mother had us in by 8 o’clock after that but it was so light we could not sleep so we used to look out of the window at our mates playing outside. It was a big house, 3 floors, and we were at the top and one night they came again and I saw the pilot’s brown hat and goggles, and here again if I close my eyes I can still to this day see that pilot.
This was life for me in Lowestoft until one day my mother said we were going away. I remember her putting a parcel label on my lapel, putting on my box with the gas mask, about 8 inches square with a string to go over my shoulder, and a train journey to Barnstaple. We used the British restaurant for food, red disc for dinner, yellow disc for pudding, mostly spotted dick with custard.
And that’s my life during World War 2.

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