Blackout
I made my way through the pitch-dark streets, using my pocket torch to light the way. It was 1942, and the blackout was rigorously enforced. I was stationed at the barracks on the other side of town, and I should have been on duty, but Ginger Williams, a mate of mine, wanted to swop passes with me — his sister was getting married at the weekend, and he'd fixed it with the Duty Officer, and I had no objection. I was nearing home — Mum would be surprised to see me, but Ginger had fiddled some...