The idyllic part of Cornwall that your article describes was subject to different alarms and excursions during the war (Cornwall alarmed by seaweed farm plans close to Padstow coast, 28 February). My only experience of that war was seeing the smoke-blackened merchant ships that felt their crippled way into Padstow’s small harbour on the opposite side of the Camel estuary. I inferred only adventure and excitement when I saw them, not the death and disaster of the reality. It was the same when the fighter planes and bombers of the RAF flew in tight formation overhead.
In 1941, a military camp materialised overnight at the top of the lane leading up from nearby Daymer Bay, where we often played. For the adults of Trebetherick it reinforced the realisation that an invasion could take place anywhere, at any time. For us the excitement of having real soldiers on our doorstep added credibility to our make-believe. Many of our games revolved around an old, weather-worn lookout post, seldom manned and with a door that never shut properly. For us it was the lone gun emplacement from which we heroes fought off that Nazi landing.
John Griffiths
Monmouth
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