When Stella was interviewed for this piece she was 94 years old and was one of Blesma’s longest-serving Members, having being injured 76 years ago as a civilian I was 13 years old when WWII broke out.

My father was a Regimental Sergeant Major, so my five siblings and I knew a lot about Army life. We weren’t children – we were his troops! We’d come home from school, polish our shoes and line them up ready for his inspection. We learned all sorts of things; my father even taught me how to read a blueprint!

During the war, I worked at a pen factory. One day, my boss asked if any of us could read a blueprint. I was the only one. I had no idea what we were making but I made good money doing it and got my own work station. I later found out I was making radar parts.

Three days before my 18th birthday, I took my friend Jeanie to the cinema. We had hardly sat down when we heard a WHOOSH. Down came a bomb. There was no air raid warning. I was knocked unconscious. The cinema had collapsed and we were buried by the rubble. When I woke up I looked to my feet. There was the bomb – it hadn’t exploded! Jeanie was beside me, shouting out. I told her everything was alright but she died while I held her hand. She’d been married 11 days.

I was taken to hospital where my leg was amputated above the knee. I never felt any pain. My right leg was broken in several places and was bruised all over. I was told I had been lucky as a surgeon who had been knighted for his work had carried out my amputation. To this day I still get told how neat my stump is!

Shortly afterwards, I was told I was being sent to a military hospital because I had been part of the war effort. At the hospital there was me and one other lady – who had been in the Auxiliary Territorial Service – with 2,000 blokes. The more injured men I met, the more I thought my injuries
were nothing compared to some of those chaps.

I was there nearly five months, then they wanted my bed because they knew D-Day was coming. I was sent home where I was kept busy with chores around the house. It wasn’t long before I got a prosthetic leg. After a fortnight, I was walking and soon I was back to work at the pen factory. That didn’t last long as once they found out I was getting a war pension, they wanted to cut my wages and hours.

In 1946, I met my future husband, Roy. My family were furious because they wanted me to stay at home and look after our parents. We were married for 64 years and had two boys; Peter and John.

I always just accepted the fact that my leg was gone. I got on with it. It was only when people were unkind or spiteful that it bothered me. I think I’m one of the longest-serving Blesma Members. I joined in 1944 and it cost me half a crown – I’ve still got my card. I remember seeing the first Paralympic Games with Blesma. They weren’t a huge success; there were only two people in the swimming event, but it was good to see that someone was making the effort!