During the Blitz and the years between 1940 and 1944, London's East End bore the brunt of the German bombing. Night raids, daylight raids, then the V1 and V2 rockets, the "Doodlebugs", all concentrated on London's Docks and industrial areas.

Most of my family on my mother's side lived in or close to the East End, in Upton Park, Plaistow, East Ham, Barking, Woolwich etc. Dad, Grandad, Uncle Jim and Uncle Stanley worked in the area. Dad also worked for a time in the London Docks and Silvertown.

I'm glad to say they all survived Hitler's bombing. Though there were a few near misses!

In the garden of our own house in East Ham we had an Anderson shelter. I assume we were given one by the Council on account of being a family with a small child and Dad's income being less than £250 a year. The value of a average Anderson shelter to buy if you were better off was between £7 - £10. The shelters were delivered as a kit of parts consisting, I'm told, of 14 different sized sheets of corrugated steel, some curved, some flat, and a quantity of nuts, bolts, washers and brackets. You had to dig a hole in the garden, ideally 4 feet deep, create a stone or concrete base and assemble the little "tin hut", which looked like a tunnel with flat ends. One end had a small door which I think was about 2 feet wide and 4 feet high. The whole thing was 6 feet 6 inches long by 4 feet wide, which was deemed to be sufficient space for a family of six!

Some people had to install their own shelters but probably got neighbours to help. I believe ours was put up for us by the Council men, but Dad probably had to dig the hole himself and then shovel all the earth back over the top when it was finished.

When the German bombers were spotted coming towards London, the Air-raid Siren would sound to warn people to take to the shelters. This could happen at any time day or night. We had our Anderson in the garden, but some people had no garden or shelter of their own, and so had to make for the nearest communal shelter, often brick-built, above ground in the road or on waste ground. Some people living closer to central London even spent the night in Tube stations, sleeping in rows on the platforms.

The Siren made a scary wailing sound that started low and built up to a crescendo. As soon as they heard it the adults would stop what they were doing and start to gather the things they needed to go to the shelter. Candles, matches, warm clothing, torch, blankets etc., were all kept handy anyway. After checking the fire in the grate was safe and turning off any lights, Dad would wrap me in a blanket and we would all troop down to the Anderson for a few hours or even the rest of the night.

Dad had scrounged some timber (vary scarce in wartime) and made some narrow bunks either side of the tiny space and we shut ourselves in wait to out the bombing and sleep as best we could. I suppose I slept as only a child can despite the noise of planes, bombs and anti-aircraft guns, to say nothing of the damp and the cold and the dank earthy smell of the place. Everyone was relieved when the noise died down and the siren eventually sounded the "All Clear".

As we all climbed out the first thing we did was look to see if our house was still standing. Sometimes the sky was lit up with distant fires. "Looks like the Docks have copped it tonight!", Dad would say glumly as we stood for a while in the garden before going into the house. Mum would always think of my Nan and Grandad. "Hope Mum's alright!", she would say.