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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Alan Jeffery CSV from Kent County Library Services on behalf of Olga Jeffery and has been added to the site with the permission of her only surviving son Alan Jeffery. The author fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

My Mother only ever told me one story from the Second World War even though she knew how interested in it I was. That was about a time she and two friends left school sometime in the middle of the war and had to pause to allow an armoured convoy to go past. Whether they were tanks on their own tracks, or on articulated transporters I did not know, what she did say was, that the convoy was so long one of her friends ducked between the vehicles and disappeared out of sight and the remaining two remained somewhat impatiently until the convoy went past.

Eagerly waiting for the last vehicle to pass, they went down on their haunches to run across the road and catch up with their friend. Their route however stopped abruptly when they looked down to see a red, bloody, crushed mess that was their friend, she had been knocked down by one of the convoy then run over time and time again by all the other vehicles and was completely unrecognizable.

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