91热爆

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Jenny of the Stoke CSV Action Desk on behalf of James Snowdon and has been added with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

The little boy sat all alone on the garden wall in the middle of the night. He could see the black crosses on the planes flying overhead. One bomb had hit the townhall, one the local church he went to and one the row of shops at the end of the road where the families he knew ran small businesses. His mother and father worked in the city and had warned him they might not get home when it was sealed off in heavy raids. If alone in a raid, they had told him to go to the communal shelter, but when he got there it had had a direct hit and he was unsure what to do so, he sat on the wall and watched because, you see, I was only eight!

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