BACK in 1940, the country got a nasty wake-up call when the so-called Phoney War ended and we took up arms for real, writes Victoria Minett.

Things had been relatively quiet since the invasion of Poland and the declaration of war against Germany. But the start of the Blitz and the Battle of Britain meant that the kid-gloves were off and soon the grim realities of war were brought home.

Now, 60 years on, the country is remembering those who gave their lives and those who lived through the terror of the bombing which scarred not just the cities, but the countryside as well.

Locals were still fed-up with noise from the drunken navvies who were working on Long Marston and Wellesbourne airfields - disturbing their sleep with slurred song and shouting. But soon a more menacing noise filled the night sky as the Luftwaffe raided Coventry in a bid to strike at the nation's industrial heartland.

Refugees from the busy city had already been and gone after the threatened danger to the country's major cities failed to materialise at the start of the war.

Country folk were more concerned that the government's call for more land meant farmland had to be dug up and farms were lost when engineers moved in to transform agricultural land into air bases.

However, at the end of August when people were still adjusting to petrol shortages and life with the blackout, the air-raid sirens started to wail. As the bombing started, brothers and sisters and mothers with babies began to flood back into the countryside to find shelter. Little ones clutching their gas masks were sent out to new families and country ways.

The Luftwaffe wanted to hit our cities, but many a bomb went astray and country-folk also suffered from the destruction.

One of the first places to be razed by the bombing was Top Farm in Loxley, with barns, threshing drums and crops left blazing for more than a day.

With the farm ablaze, worker Dick Watkins rushed to the tractor shed and drove the farm machinery out to safety just before a bomb ripped through the ceiling and burst into flames.

Czech soldiers, who were based at Walton Hall near Wellesbourne, dashed to the scene only to discover that many of the explosives were their own. The Germans had seized the bombs when they overran Czechoslovakia just weeks earlier.

Amazingly, despite the stray fire, there were few casualties in South Warwickshire. A few buildings were damaged, there was some smashed glass but otherwise the area survived.

The countryside was now almost used to seeing the orange glow of fire above the city on the horizon. However, on the evening of November 14, as people drew the blackout curtains they knew something new and more terrible was about to happen. The sirens, instead of waiting until nightfall, sounded at dusk and the usual lull before the groaning engines passed did not occur. Instead, the planes arrived immediately. Gunfire rattled from the anti-aircraft batteries, punctuated only by the thud of the bombs as they crashed to the floor.

Firefighters and volunteers from all around South Warwickshire headed to the city to do what they could. Some died themselves, others returned wearily home days after, blackened and weary and were followed by shocked and horrified Coventrians desperately seeking shelter.

The villagers and townspeople did what they could and their contribution will never be forgotten.