The LADS Army
Copyright 2011 by Kev Flannigan
Wednesday 10th April 1940 : 08:03hrs
The morning silence in the bedroom was interrupted by the haunting wail of the air raid siren screaming; death is coming unless you bloody well run.
‘Shit…bugger…shit.’ filled the room as Will bolted up from his bed still half asleep. As usual, hanging out of his back pocket was a dog-eared copy of Drake Tempest, his favourite comic book, and his number one survival guide.
Wearing only a pair of shorts and a dirty coloured vest, William knew the drill. Throwing on his boots and pulling on his maroon V-neck jumper over his wiry mop of strawberry blonde hair he legged it towards the shelter at the bottom of the garden.