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I was born in the year 1933 in a stone house in the Dales of County Durham near the Burnhope reservoir, wrote Jim Dowson. The family moved to Crook in County Durham a few years later and that was where I did my growing up.
The war years were an exciting and interesting time for me; kids from the cities were sent up to the north to get them away from the bombing. Our local neighbourhood gang adopted these new kids and it was fun showing them how we played in the countryside. Some of the kids had never even seen a pig or a cow.
They marvelled when I showed them how to blow up a frog like a balloon and then shoot at it with a catapult as it floated around the pond. Those were fun days, picking blackberries to take home for a pie but there never seemed to enough left by the time we got home.
Birdnesting and stealing apples and goosegogs out of the allotments and getting chased by the owners was real fun. It didn't really seem like there was a war on until you looked around: our wrought iron fence around our front garden had been cut down like everyone else's on the street for scrap iron.
Every tin and newspaper was saved and collected, and the ARP wardens were every where enforcing the blackout. Most of the street lamps had been removed so it was a bit scary walking home at night, especially after seeing an old Bella Logosi film.
The cemetery gates were only about 20 feet from the front gate of my house. There used to be just one street lamp right at the gates and when the wind was blowing, the shadows cast by the moving branches as they scraped along to top of the cemetery wall would get me imagining all kinds of stuff, so it didn't take me long to get my front door open and get inside the house.
Just about everyone carried a torch in those days because once it got dark and you got away onto the side streets it was impossible to see where you were going. Even in the town there wasn't much light, for the shops closed about 5pm and none of the signs were lit up. The busses and the few cars that would be running didn't give off much light as they all had their headlamps hooded.
Then the Yanks came to town and I quickly learned to say, 'Got any gum chum,' for a hand out of spearmint. They always seemed to be chewing gum.
I loved to watch the exercises by the local Territorials and run after them through the streets as they pursued an imaginary enemy, or watch the demonstrations put on by the ARP Wardens showing their skill at putting out a fire with a stirrup pump and a bucket of water.
Of course there was the ever present gasmask always dangling from around my neck. Every other day or so in the classroom we would have to drill at putting on the masks and getting under the desks. Some of the kids were scared stiff to wear the mask so they would be given Mickey Mouse masks to wear.
We seemed to able to make fun out of everything in those days, if you can imagine a classroom full of kids wearing masks and all making obscene noises by blowing air out of the sides of the masks.
One day which I will never forget. I was standing outside of my house with a gang of kids when the sky became black with airplanes and the noise was deafening. I'd never seen so many airplanes in my life, not even at the picture show.
They all were going in the direction of the fields above my house and someone shouted that they are going to land up there. We all ran as fast as we could up the hill to the fields to see them land, but of course by the time we reached the top they were all out of sight.
My favourite part of the drill was when we were told to run outside with our masks on and head for the underground shelters in the field behind the school, anything to get away from the classroom was fun.
I had a teacher called Mr. Venn who was a retired Major from the army and carried the classroom cane under his arm like a swagger stick. When we left the classroom each day to get our daily ration of milk he would line us up like we were in the army and march us across the playground shouting left right, left right and slapping the cane on his leg. Of course I used to think I was pretty grown up marching like this.
We didn't get many enemy bombers up north but once in awhile one would get lost looking for Newcastle or Hull and head our way. When one was shot down nearby we all tramped over the fields to get a look at it but the soldiers had it pretty well guarded.
Like all of the other kids I searched the nearby grass for anything I could find, Perspex from the windows was scattered all over the place so we filled our pockets with the stuff. Later it became quite a craze to make rings out of it.
I went to Woolworth's and bought a round file. For a long time just about every kid around there would be seen going around with his file and a bit of Perspex, filing away at his ring.
Jim Dowson, California USA, 2001
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