The air raid sirens. The sharp, high-pitched sound that echoes through the streets. I remember it like it was yesterday. As I’m writing this, I can almost feel the fear that I felt on that fateful day.

At eleven years old, I had heard about the war. But I never really understood the severity of the situation until my family and I were suddenly told to evacuate the city. I didn’t realise the danger that was ahead until I stood outside our little home and watched as all my neighbours joined us on the street, their faces displaying terror.

We loaded into the cars and were taken away to a different part of the country. It seemed to take forever and I remember all the strange places as we passed them. Everyone was silent and I just sat in the back seat with my head spinning.

When we arrived at our destination, we were all put into separate houses. I had to stay with an avuncular family - a different name, different faces, different language, a different life. I was so out of my comfort zone and scared about what the future could bring.

The days in my new home felt like a blur. I was going through the motions as I had to adapt quickly to my new surroundings. On one hand, it felt like an exciting adventure. But on the other, it was never properly explained to me why I was in this situation in the first place.

As much as I wanted to be a brave little girl, the war had changed how I saw the world. Now, I live in the present, focusing on the future and taking lessons from the past. I will never forget the traumatising experience of the air-raid sirens, or of the day that I was evacuated. It may have been a long time ago, but I will always carry the memories with me.