War Time - Sex Stories

War Time

A London Suburb. August 1940. The Germans were bombing hell out of us -- or should it be into us? I was eighteen and was awaiting my call up into one of the armed services; in the meantime I was working as a messenger for the Civil Defence. There was just me and mum because my dad was with the Royal Engineers in the West Country where they were laying beach mines and building defences against the anticipated invasion. Mum was understandably scared of the air raids, and it was made worse because that was when I had to go on duty and she was on her own. I think she must have written to my father about how she felt because we got a letter from him, telling us we were to join him where he was stationed, and that he'd got a cottage for us. Some quick packing and next day we were at Paddington station getting on board the West bound train. An air battle was going on overhead, and as the train pulled out bombs fell close by. As the train crept out through the suburbs we passed several anti-aircraft gun sites that were blasting away. The train was jam packed with servicemen in transit and civilians trying to get out of London. We couldn't find seats so we sat on our suitcases in the corridor all the way to Plymouth where a lot of people got off -- that was before the place got bombed to rubble. After that we got seats. Some time later the train pulled into the station of a minor railway junction. Dad was there to meet us and there was lots of hugging and kissing by mum and dad. * * ...

... * * * * * * The cottage belonged to a widow who had moved elsewhere; it was a two up two down affair, that is, downstairs there was what was called the living room and a scullery. The latter had a sink with a cold water tap, a bath that had a wooden cover over it, and a gas stove. If you wanted a bath you had to boil the water on the gas stove. The toilet was in a ramshackle shed at the back of the cottage. Upstairs was reached by a mongrel cross between proper stairs and a ladder, and consisted of a front bedroom that was almost filled with a double bed, and behind a small bedroom with a creaking single bed; this was to be my room. There was no electricity and only a single gas mantle in the living room; all other lighting was by candle. As the soldiers in my father's unit were all billeted out on civilians, dad was able to live with us. This made mum and dad very happy, and in bed at night I could hear them making each other happy. The village had a small harbour and in the wartime emergency a boat building yard had been added where they were building Motor Torpedo Boats (MTBs). Dad had arranged for me to work in the yard until, as he said, "You're called up." During the time we spent in the village only once did bombs drop nearby in a field. It must have been a German bomber that had lost its way and jettisoned its load, but a couple of months after we arrived, and looking east at night, we could see Plymouth being bombed and on fire. * * * * * * * * We had arrived towards ...