Before Signing Up

This is a story from Mary Fletcher (nee Jones) who was a cook in the WAAFs during the war.

In 1940 most people had an air raid shelter in the garden, an Anderson shelter. For some reason we didn't have one, but my Aunt, 8 houses away had one!

A friend and I used to use that one, because my Aunt was evacuated with the children.

One night, for some reason, my friend didn't come and my father, who I lived with (my mother had died just before the war) used to go in the big communal air raid shelter.

I decided not to go with him on this particular night, and sleep downstairs on a bed-chair (I was only 18 at the time!).

Then in the middle of the night there was a great big crash - frightened me to death! I hurriedly put a coat on over my pyjamas and went to my Dad in the communal shelter.

Next morning, when we went to go home, at the top of the street an unexploded bomb had landed on one of the houses. Some men came round and said we had to get out, taking a few possessions with us and go out for the day until they got someone to defuse the bomb.

We wandered off with a little case with a few possessions, had something to eat, went to the pictures, wondering if everything would be all right when we got home!

Luckily they had been able to defuse the bomb, so everything was OK, thank goodness!

It didn't change my habits for night-time, though, as the communal shelter was a bit "high" and noisy.

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