Charlie and several others climbed into the ferry and set off across the swirling river.

‘Where’s they off to, then?’ someone said.

‘To bring back any casualties, God bless ’em.’ Soon afterwards an ambulance arrived at the ferry, with its lights flashing and bell clanging, and Kath realised that bringing the injured across the river would be far quicker than taking them to hospital via the long winding road to Woodbridge. As if to prove the point, it was a further ten minutes till the fire engines arrived on the Bawdsey side.

Before long the glow of the fires began to diminish. Charlie, arriving back on the ferry boat, announced that there had been no casualties and little serious damage. ‘Damn fool Krauts couldn’t hit a barn door,’ he said. ‘All them bombs just fell in the grass.’

When Kath finally reached home it was well past midnight, but the lights were still on in the house. Her mother ran to her, clasping her in a tight embrace.

‘Thank God you’re safe,’ she said. ‘We went to Joan’s and she said you’d gone to the ferry.’

‘I had to see what was going on at the Manor. They said no one was hurt, thank heavens.’

‘But you gave us a real fright. Never, ever, do that again,’ Pa raged. ‘Why do you think we took all that trouble to build the shelter? To keep us safe.’ He was nearly shouting now. ‘Pray heaven it never happens again, but you must promise that if it does, you will come straight home.’

Everyone was on edge after that. They were fearful, gloomy times. King George visited to inspect the troops at Landguard Fort, apparently to rally morale, but it did little to cheer the townsfolk.

Kath volunteered as an air-raid warden, spending most nights in cold, damp shelters peering into the sky with binoculars or brewing endless cups of tea on an old camp stove in an attempt to keep warm. It was scary and boring all at the same time – she even began to long for a bit of excitement. In her first week she went down with a cold, which seemed to linger for weeks. She never felt properly well.

Even though Ma kept herself busy catering for the WRVS, at home she was often tearful, especially when they heard the drone of bombers flying towards Europe. With binoculars it was possible to see distant dog-fights taking place over the North Sea. The worst shock came later in August, when German planes dropped sixteen bombs onto the town centre, destroying houses and the signal box near the station. The train Pa was working on had just left for Ipswich. Although no one died, several people were injured. It was another very close shave.

She wrote to Vic:

Just to reassure you that although we’ve had a couple of air raids, and some damage to the town, we are all still safe here. I still long to join up as a WAAF and feel that I’m actually doing something useful but for the moment my parents won’t even consider the idea, so I’ll just have to wait till there’s a call-up and they won’t have any choice but to let me go.