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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from Age Concern on behalf of Ada Evans and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Evans fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

“When the war broke out I was 21 and had worked in a radio shop in Portsmouth. Then, after training to become a tracer, I was working in the aircraft industry. From there I passed an exam to become a tracer in the dockyard. I was living with my mother and, being so near the coast, we had a lot of air raids. One particular night, we were in our Anderson shelter in the garden when a bomb exploded at the back fence, shattering the windows and doors at the back. We were safe but frightened until we could be got out at the “All Clear”. We pushed our way through the broken door. Broken crockery was in the kitchen and the fire in the lounge had been blown onto the carpet, but fortunately the soot blown from the chimney put out the fire. Sausages from the frying pan on the stove were stuck to the ceiling. My mother was crying and said, “this calls for the bottle of sherry”. I got us a drink and then saw our budgie lying at the bottom of his cage. I picked him up and wiped the soot from his little nose. He seemed lifeless so I dipped my finger in the sherry and put a drop on his nose. He shook his body and recovered. We went next door to check on Mrs Thorn. She sat crying in her shattered room with her feet in hot water. She offered my mother her glass of brandy and when mother drank it, said, “I didn’t mean you to drink the bloody lot!”

At work our office was moved to Commercial Chambers and I found myself operating the phone switchboard. I therefore received all “Double Red warnings”, such as “400 planes approaching the south coast”. This was the signal for all to go to the deep shelter. This was an improvement on the dockyard shelter which was a tunnel below the dock water level. One day a friend and I were cycling home during an air raid. We passed an air raid shelter and the warden said, “you girls had better come inside”. We said, “no, we are going home to tea”. He said, “well, you had better hurry up, they are dropping bombs not sandwiches!” The Admiralty moved us to Bournemouth and billeted us with a landlady who received a guinea for our lodging and breakfast and an evening meal. This was stopped from our wages and we were known as “Guinea Pigs”. One day, I was cycling home through Kings Park, Boscombe. There was a sudden roar and a plane with swastika markings flew over followed by a Spitfire. I swerved off into the ditch as bullets came down on the road ahead. I started a St John’s Ambulance Course in First Aid. This included instructions on “sudden birth in an air raid shelter”. Fortunately I did not have to use these. On D-Day, 6 June 1944, I woke to see the air filled with aircraft and, cycling to town, I joined crowds of people. The tension was almost unbearable. This was “history in the making” and I will remember it all my life.

I married in 1948. Food rationing was still in force, and most brides used artificial cakes made from white cardboard for their wedding photographs. My relatives contributed fruit, and food coupons, so I had a real wedding cake with all the trimmings. Many of my family and friends had property damaged during the war, but all survived. I regarded the war period as one of marking time in my life until normal life could resume. I now value all the wartime experiences and would not wish to have missed these times.”

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