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My name is Elsie Jones, and I’m 92.
I don’t remember that much about the war, but our brother was killed. Our mother nearly died after that. She wasn’t well, and I was looking after her at home.
My brother had two little girls of 5 and 7. He was killed instantly. My mother cried all her life. He was a lovely kind lad. He was a driver, a chauffeur. He was guarding a factory that night with his friends, and they were all killed. Eleven of them together.
And Huw, my brother, lost his wife, so I brought his son, William, up.

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