THE wartime diaries of a former Colchester Castle curator are being published online exactly 70 years after he wrote them.

The late Eric Rushdale had no idea his journal would end up being read by worldwide audience when he died in 1951. However, thanks to Chelmsford historian Dr Cathy Pearson, his diaries will be turned into an internet blog in the coming weeks.

The first instalment is printed in the Gazette today and offers an intriguing look at the outbreak of hostilities on September 3, 1939.

Woke up at seven. Beautiful summer day, hot and sunny.

Heard on radio an important announ-cement would be made at 10am. Sounded very ominous.

Decided to go down to the fire station to see if I could do anything in the Auxiliary Fire Service, thinking if anything is going to happen in Colchester, I might as well be in a front seat.

The fire brigade now take themselves very seriously, and the general appearance of the station is of a besieged fortress. Great masses of sandbags block every window and door, so you have to crawl through tunnels to get into the watch-room.

With considerable diffidence I offered my services, but was gently told I was not suitable physically. While I was there, the 10 o’clock announcement came through, which was to the effect an ultimatum had been delivered to Germany which expires at 11 o’clock, and Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain would speak at 11.15.

I felt I could not hear this, so I went off on my bike but as I came along, Mile End Road, I could hear radio booming from many houses, and could not but stop. A man saw me from his window and called out: “It’s come, matey!”

Went down to Bourne Mill, and rowed out in the boat, trying to think. Twenty-five years rolled back – the last war, “the war to end war”, they told us there could never be another and we believed it.

Think of the millions of lives lost in the last war, all wasted. Now, the first to go will actually be the sons of those who died 25 years ago.

Later: When I went to bed I somehow felt we should have a raid. I was dozing when every siren in the town leapt into life at half past three.

I jumped up, put out the light and pulled the curtains to see out. The moon shone brightly, and the air was filled with the most incredible wailing noises, while all over the town dogs were barking.

I put on gum boots and a mac and went out into the front garden. Bugles were sounding in the barracks, and the big siren sounded again.

The moon shone beautifully, and I thought how incredible that people we didn’t know were coming away from the east to kill us.

I thought: ‘God, they said seven minutes warning at the most. Am I really going to be dead seven minutes from now?’ Father came out in the road. We could hear voices at several front doors down the street. The noise of planes could be heard flying east, very fast and high.

Suddenly, the all clear, sounded, a long, wailing cry, which went on and on.

Are we to be scared like this every night for years to come?

What a terrible time for people with children.

When the wailing stopped, we could hear bugles blowing, and people talking all up and down the road. I went in, locked up. We all drank tea. Back to bed.