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'This story was submitted to the People's War site by Rick Allden of the CSV Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of Anne Bailey and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions'.

So we came home.
I know the raids were to get at the docks along the South Wales coast but, living where we did, I never saw any bomb damage. Neither did I see any on my way to school; nor hear any tales of being bombed out from friends.
None of my friends appeared to have relatives fighting either. Or if they did, they never said anything to me as far as I can recall and our next-door neighbour whose shelter we shared, was sent to India and, as far as I can remember, was never in any real danger.
We had a wonderful excuse for being late for school when gas masks were issued. ‘Please, Miss, I forgot my gas mask,’ was a regular cry till the teachers got wise to our ploy. When my brother was born he had a box that covered him completely. Later he had a Mickey Mouse contraption. This, of course was to encourage them not to be frightened at something over their faces. I remember we made jokes but I don’t think he as very amused.
Rationing meant nothing to me. Being a faddy child I didn’t miss a lot of what was scarce. But the war did cure me. At school I had the dinners of course and woe betide you if you left anything. ‘Refugees would be glad of that,’ we were told. But not who or what refugees were. I just used to think let them have it then.
We had a French refugee French mistress who was a Jew. This meant nothing to us. We didn’t know who Jews were as far as I know. That she didn’t go into prayers was just accepted. In fact that was very useful for the Head as she sat in the cloakroom to keep an eye on the late-comers.
It seems strange now that even with rationing and clothing coupons, nothing was ever stolen. . We had to have indoor shoes as well as ‘daps’ as we called plimsolls. Neither shoes nor coats were ever missing.
We had various fund raising activities, of course, to help the war effort and people came to speak to us. I remember one poor lady. She spoke about buying a Spitfire as I recall. She had lost all four sons and, of course, was near to tears. Although sympathetic we all squirmed with embarrassment and wished the poor lady a million miles away. Then there were savings stamps and certificates. People volunteered to go round the houses weekly and collect the money. My certificates, as I remember, bought me my first bicycle after the war, I remember.

This story was donated to the People’s War website by Anne Bailey, of the Leam Writers. If you would like to find out more about Leam Writers call 0845 900 5 300.

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