On Sunday September 3rd 1939, I was three months away from my sixth birthday. The french doors were open onto the backyard where I was playing. My mother was busy hanging the washing on the line. It was a pleasant morning, the sun shining. One of those childhood days of carefree playing on the lawn, close to the busy life of insects that lived there. Happy in the small backyard that was my whole world. As 11:00 approached, my mother went into the house and turned on the radio, and those sweet days of childhood were changed forever.
Neville Chamberlain our Prime Minister was telling us that Britain had declared war on Germany. As we clustered around the radio I remember hearing his voice, but not understanding the import of his words “We have a clear conscience…. I am certain we will prevail.”
As I recall the day now, I feel a sense of dread coming over me, and remember my mother rushing out into the garden as the air raid warnings began to wail. She grabbed the washing off the clothes line and brought it back into the house. “Mum, why are you taking the clothes in? I ask. “I don’t want any bullet holes in them,” was her reply.
From that day on until the biggest bullet was dropped on Hiroshima, my life revolved around gas masks, air raids, bombs, aircraft, blackouts, searchlights, barrage balloons and all the noises of war.