Bombs were dropping all over and shattering the once peaceful evening, sending residents scrambling for cover. The ear-piercing wail of sirens filled the air as families huddled together in bomb shelters, praying for safety. Streets that were usually bustling with life now lay deserted, debris littering the ground. The relentless bombing seemed unending, each explosion shaking the foundations of buildings. Amid the chaos, brave first responders rushed to aid the injure , risking their lives to save others. The city, under siege, clung desperately to hope, resilience echoing through the fearful night.
So this time my Mother was expecting the worst, all the lights went out because there was an air raid and bombs were dropping all around. She expected terrible things to happen, however, while she lay on the bed waiting for somebody to bring a lamp, she could feel me kicking her I had already been born and she didn't feel a thing. Finally, a nurse brought a lantern, and they finished cleaning me and my mother up, and that is my birth story. Diane was born in 1943 during the war and lived through most of World War 2 in England. (Susan my sister was born in 1945)