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I was born in the year 1942. The Second World War had been going for two years and nine months. I was unaware that there was a war going on around me. My Mother was a Londoner and had married in London to my Father who was from Beer, a fishing village in Devon. The women who belonged to his family were Lace Makers. He came to the West End of London to work as a newly qualified pharmacist and set up home nearby. He soon met my mother in Islington, where she was born and grew up. She was sixteen years old at the time and was working as a Post Office Clerk.

I was not born in London, but in Shrewsbury, Shropshire. This was because my Mother had been bombed out of her home by the enemy. My Father who was away serving in the RAF was keen for my Mother to move away from London.

I was late in my arrival and was born at 6pm on the 6th day of May, weighing 6 lbs. I was born on the top floor of a Tudor House on the borders of England and Wales near to the English Bridge.

I became the daughter of Mr and Mrs Tom and Alice Sparkes. My father was at my birth. My mother鈥檚 allowance for rent from the RAF was 10 shillings a week (50 pence).
This paid for two rooms that we lived in with water dripping into a bowl when it rained.

It was blackout time, but my mother would peep out of the window from the rear of the house on the top floor when it was full moon. At night she would see the German aircraft twisting and turning, following the River Severn in the reflection of the moon. A full moon would give the crews an idea of their location.

My mother had many friends who were in the same position as she was, on her own. I had many Aunties who were her friends and their children became my playmates. Everyone helped each other. It was a relatively happy time for us children, picnicking in the hills with sheep and their baby lambs to watch, until it was time to start wearing our Gas Masks.

By May 1944 my new baby brother was 9 months old, but I still didn鈥檛 know where he came from. We moved away from Shrewsbury to Castle Cary in Somerset where my Aunty and Uncle lived. It was a large house with a large garden that became frightening, as you could get lost in it.

I was two years old and was considered by the British Government to be old enough to have my own Gas Mask. My mother was keen for me to wear it for 10 minutes each day. They were awful things to wear. I was never allowed to put it on or take it off on my own. The thick elastic would go through small metal brackets to keep the elastic in place, but this would catch my hair and pull it out. Adults never listened to what I said about the Gas Masks hurting me, or had to wear them. I would go through this agony each time I wore it. Within a few minutes of having my Gas Mask on it would steam up inside. I would have to poke my finger inside it to clear the condensation from the little glass lens, otherwise I couldn鈥檛 see. You were not allowed to do this once it was on. When it came off it was all wet and sweaty and I felt as if my face had been crushed. I also felt it was too small for me.

You could blow inside them which would make a rude noise through the lose part that hung in front. You would not do this if adults were around, because again you would have to poke your finger inside the Gas Mask to clear the lens so you could see. They felt suffocating to wear.

I would ask my mother why I had to wear it. She would tell me it was in case the Germans came and gassed us. I would often complain about wearing it. She would say I should be thankful that I didn鈥檛 have to wear it all day. I use to think, if I did I would never survive as I couldn鈥檛 breathe easily in it, which is what you are meant to do. The bottom part that came under your chin was filled with asbestos which could have killed you instead of keeping you alive.

Gas Masks were well known items during the war. Some people have implied these were known as Mickey Mouse gas Masks, but I would say that this is inaccurate. Mickey Mouse was less known in Britain during this time than he is now.

When I see German Tourists visiting parts of Britain and getting off coaches, I always think: The Germans are here! I must go and put on my Gas Mask.

Written by Kay E Foulger (Mrs)

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