Sunday evening I watched the movie ”Into the Storm” it tells the story of Winston Churchill becoming Prime Minister of Britain in 1941. Besides being a very accurate account of the history of the war years, it was also a wonderful tribute to Churchill. I find it hard to explain why I feel such emotions of pride and nostaglia when watching films from this era.. I realize I was very young during those dreadful times, yet I have vivid memories of the blitz. I remember the shortages, the gas masks, the air raid shelters, the ration books, no sugar or butter no fresh fruit, no eggs or milk. I remember the bombs falling while we shuddered and shivered in the back garden Anderson Shelter night after night. I remember when we lost our flat and all our belongings to a direct hit from one of the first V1 flying bombs (Doodlebug). In the schools we often had no paper or pencils, in the toilets there was no paper, many windows were boarded up making the school gloomy and dark. Where today children practice fire drill in the schools we practiced air raids and gas attacks. We had to wear our horrible smelly masks with eye glasses that quickly steamed up as we tried to make our way in line to the shelters. It might seem strange talking about such things today, and although it began over 77 years ago this remains among the most vivid memories of my childhood. It was a time of sadness, happiness, defiance and bravery, a time of singing wonderful songs of the war. Blue Birds over the white cliffs of Dover, When the lights come on again all over the world, and so many more. How strange I still remember the words to so many of those wartime songs. How strange to be a part of and to feel such pride for the stalwart British wartime population.
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