I was about eight when world war two started. Yeah, I remember it like it was yesterday. Not the fights and the bombs and the blackouts, but of the incident that happened with me and my old mate Mark. Me and Mark liked to collect bombshells, bullets and parts of buildings and planes. I think in total we had one bombshell and three bullets. Much to the discomfort of our parents, we would always go out in the afternoon and search high and low for pieces. As long as we were back straight away if a warning alarm was sounded, then it was ok. But there was this one day when that was not the case.
             It was about five o'clock in the afternoon and it was getting dark. Mark and me were playing ball in an open courtyard. It was about two minutes from home (Mark and me lived next-door to each other you see) and around us were a small wooden shed and a concrete hut. It was perfect for playing a good game of footie as there was no cars or people around. We had been playing for about ten minutes when we heard the dreaded siren that prolonged our game. I instantly thought we had to go back but Mark was determined to hang around: "this is it Ryan, if we hang around we might find some more shells mate" I thought he was crazy. Risk being bombed and possible killed? So I was surprised with myself when I agreed to stay behind with him. We carried on playing football for about ten minutes before we heard the first planes. No bomb, nothing. So we carried on until......... BOMB. We heard a colossal bang very close by. It seemed like it hit behind the concrete hut across the yard. I was frozen to the spot, I didn't know what to think or even do. Should I go home? Should we go and see if anyone was hurt? Although in this moment of turmoil I could hardly think about myself, I immediately knew what Mark was thinking and then the words came out his mouth: "Ryan, this is it. I bet we could find loads bits and pieces behind that shed, come on.....