Memories Of A Wartime Childhood.

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My sisters and I were children during WW2, and England was under attack. We lived near a couple of industrial towns which were often targeted by the enemy. When we heard the wailing sirens warning us of an air raid we knew we had to run inside, where our mother bundled us into the 'glory hole'. This was a cupboard under the stairs, and it would supposedly give us some protection in the case of a direct hit. We'd stay there as the steady hum of the approaching bombers gradually got louder, and would wait in dread of hearing the explosions which would mean that they had dropped their loads. If we were lucky they carried on to the big towns. We were all issued with gas masks in case Hitler decided to attack with gas. This must have been a very real threat for the government to provide them for every single person, even babies (see image above), but thankfully they were never needed. I can't remember being actually very frightened during this time, I suppose I was too young, but looking back it must have been terrible for my mother. She had three small children to look after on her own, as Dad was away at the war in situations where he was likely to be killed or wounded. All the women in our street supported each other, especially if anyone received that dreaded yellow telegram informing them that their loved ones were wounded, missing or killed in action. We were lucky as our father survived, and there was a wonderful street party when the war eventually ended after six years. (One of my friends here said he would be interested in hearing about my wartime memories, and I hope the rest of you haven't been bored).