ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½

In 1941 I was three years old and lived with my family in Yeovil. One day there was an air raid when my family were out in the town. My mother took us to a shelter at the bottom of Vicarage Street. She was faced with the choice of either going into the above ground air raid shelter or going into a shelter that was in the cellar of a building. She opted to go into the cellar. All I can remember is sitting in the cellar and eating doughnuts to distract me from seeing all the casualties being brought in to the cellar. These people had been in the above ground shelter into which my mother had decided not to take me - it had taken a direct hit. We had had a lucky escape. My mother had made the right choice.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.