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Pat Johnson
I was born in 1939. When the Second World War started, we lived 3 miles from Northolt airport where the bombers used to land and take off.
My Dad was an air raid warden and used to have to walk the streets making sure everyone was safe. It was very noisy. If we were out with our friends and the sirens went off, we had to run home to the air raid shelter. It was very scary. We had to sleep in our beds with iron over the top and when the planes went over it used to shake the rust into our eyes, a doodlebug came so close to our roof. Then the siren would go off again when it was all clear. We were sent away on trains as we were so near the airport. When the war was over, we had a street party.
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