Brenda Hinkley
I was six when the Second World War started, and my brother was nine. We weren't sent away during the war as we already lived in a small village, but I have many memories of that time.
I can still remember my friend’s grandpa digging an Anderson Shelter in the back garden, which was covered with a piece of corrugated iron. This was just a dug-out piece of earth in the back garden large enough to hold five or six people. When the siren sounded (and they did very often) we had to get up and go outside to this “SAFE” place whatever the weather. I really hated the worms and spiders!
Then we were eventually issued with the Morrison shelter which we had to put together ourselves. Well - I say ourselves - but of course, it was Dad who assembled it. When the sirens went, Dad would carry my brother downstairs while Mum carried me. We were then put in the Morrison shelter - a large iron table which we had to use as our dining table for the next six years. Of course, we did put a mattress and pillows inside so we were quite comfortable.
Before we received the Morrison shelter, we did have another 'safe' place to hide. There was a large cupboard next to the fireplace where my brother and I were put - I suppose because it was a solid brick-built area next to the chimney breast.
My Dad was in the ARP (Air Raid Precautions) so after he saw we were safe, he would go out to run the nurses to hospital in our car. I do remember one occasion when he came running back in shouting “get in - they have shot down a German plane and I can see the pilot coming down on his parachute”. I assume the authorities arrested him and took him away.
I suppose the reason we had bombs falling in our area was because we were a few miles from the River Blyth near Newcastle and, of course, they were supposed to be aiming at the ships in the harbour. Another time, early one morning, my dad took us to see a huge crater where a bomb had fallen in one of the many fields in our area. It had, of course, already exploded!