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I have not many vivid memories of war time before I joined the WAAF but two stand out in my mind.
On the night of the first air raid on Belfast my friend Deirdre Magee and I were walking along the Shore Road in Greenisland (about eight miles from Belfast) when we heard the sound of aircraft. Innocently we did not know the significance of this but an Air Raid Warden told us to hurry home. We ran all the way which was about two miles. When we got to my friend’s house her mother, who was a nurse, and her father, who was a Air Raid Warden, had left a message to say they had been called out.
In the middle of the night we had what must have been a hoax telephone call to say that there was a plane down in a nearby field and the crew were making their way towards the house. I can remember how terrified we were. We spent hours leaning against the back door (how that would have helped, I don’t know).
How glad we were when light came and Deirdre’s parents arrived home tired and dirty after their horrific night in Belfast.

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