Senses of World War II by Year 6

This term, Year 6 have been learning about World War II focusing on the life of a child at that time. In literacy, they have been using their senses to imagine what life was like living through the Blitz and how it would have felt to have to find shelter in an Anderson Shelter. Here, Year 6 pupils are proud to share their creative writing pieces:

It all started when I was having dinner – sausages and mash – I heard the worst sound of my life. I went outside and saw dark shadows coming towards the city. I thought nothing of it but then I noticed how strange everything was – people were running and a siren went off. My Mum grabbed me and took me towards the Anderson Shelter. In the blink of an eye, a bomb dropped on my house. The worst bit was the sound – it whirled around in my ear; the loudest thing I had ever heard. Then it all went silent. Five seconds later a bomb hit the factory down the street. The smell was deadly; smoke made you cough and made it hard to breathe. I crouched down in the steel structure, squished in with my family on the bench. All we had was a few bits of food. We tucked under the blanket; it was so itchy and nagged at my goose bumped skin. I was so scared that I didn’t care about the pain but it was so wet and damp beneath my feet.

Noises attacked my brain. I didn’t know what to think. Fire was burning people’s houses – screaming was everywhere, you couldn’t block it out. I could hear people begging for help, it was hard to leave people who needed help but if you left, you could have died.

I opened the door to see the street demolished, burning away homes. Destroyed.

The next day I heard that some people were sent to the underground shelter to sleep but if a bomb went off when you were down there, the sound would echo for ages. It would be terrifying; you would always be thinking a train was coming but we were told the trains were stopped. The danger of the tunnels was that if a bomb burst a pipe it could flood the tunnels and you could be drowned.


Cautiously, I held my breath, crouched down and took a step into the eerie arched structure; this was a place where any laughter was silenced. The freezing air pinched at my goose bumped skin. The cold grass beneath my feet, made my bones shiver.


At teatime, I heard the blaring, unnerving sound. I knew what I had to do: I went upstairs to get my brother Tom. I grabbed my gas mask and put it on dashed down stairs into the bunker. Devastatingly, when I heard the wail of the sirens, they were followed by the screams of terrified people.

Nervously, I stepped into the creepy dull structure; it was like a prison. The smell was horrid – the stench of damp mixed with mouldy veg filled my nostrils as I lowered my body down inside the terrifying space. Bad smells of burning and smoke.

Noises shook my head- sirens, the screaming packs of voices as the door slammed behind me.


It started like any normal evening, me and my family were eating dinner. Out of nowhere darkness came and I started to get scared because night is the worst. When the fierce, piercing, whirring wail of the air-raid sirens invaded the heavens, we knew the key was to get safe.

At seven-thirty, as I climbed into bed, as my brother, Jake, was searching for his teddy ‘Pluto’. Outside I could sense that people were nervous, their feet banging the cobbled streets. I leapt out of bed, peering out of the window, I saw the darkness but smoke was filling the air – gobbling the houses down with roaring flames like a furious dragon.

Anxiously, I took a deep-breath then put on my gas-mask. I ducked down and stepped into the eerie, domed structure; this is a place where laughter does not exist. The piercing air clipped my scabbed skin, the feel of ice penetrating my skin underneath my feet made my bones shiver.

The noisomness of the dankness, coupled with a blanket of smoke, filled my snout. As I dropped down inside, the smell of thick smoke and burning penetrated my throat. Wistfully, this smell and me had become too well known to each other.

Cacophonies occupy my head – sirens, the shrieks of my neighbours – all enhancing my senses making me more distraught. Slamming the metal door at the rear of my back, all of the sounds I heard before were, for a moment, silenced.

With my heart heavy with sadness, I stared at the etal shelter – densely lit by a flickering candle on a decrepit shelf. Itchy blankets concealed the benches that sat on either side. Enemy planes searched the skies outside – their glow shining through the cracks in the door. A blue checked pillow lay on one of the benches – an attempt to make it feel homely. However, nothing could take this nightmare away.


Formal Speech

Listen to a WWII formal speech about food rationing by Cameron here:

The focus was to write a persuasive speech using formal language and presented in formal tone.

Pupils also imagine what life was like for an evacuee living through the war, sending letters home to their families:

Dear mother,
I really miss you. When I was put on the train I did not expect I would not see you for weeks. When I got off the train a lady took me to her house. There was a field behind it which had strange animals that I had never seen before. The lady told me they were called ‘farm animals’. Then she told me her name was Mrs Pots. I was scared of the animals at first but when I got close to them, I saw they were not dangerous. My school is ok but I really miss my friends. I hope you’re ok.

Love Hudson


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