When war broke out in 1939, I was in the Girl Guides at All Saints Church, York Road, Leeds. I was in charge of knitting socks for soldiers. My mum went round the street telling neighbours: ‘Our Vera has joined up; Hitler’s got no chance.’

When I left Guides, I still wanted to do my bit in the war effort, so I joined Girls’ Brigade in Market Street. The uniform was a navy-blue forage cap, white shirt, and my dad’s black tie. I didn’t think much to that outfit. I then went to join up for the Civil Defence Messengers, but I was only 15, and he said to come back when you’re 16. So as soon as I turned 16, that’s what I did. A proper uniform!

We had a place down in Burmantofts, there was a big congregation building there. And we’d wait there and if there was an air raid, we’d go out. We never had it that bad in Leeds. In the event of an air raid, I was supposed to get on my bike and pedal up Harehills Lane to a telephone communications centre and take messages from there. Thank goodness I was never called! My new greatcoat was so heavy and nearly touched the ground, so I couldn’t get on my bike, let alone pedal up the hill. We never had a bad call out really, we were just on guard.