Bernard Crowhurst was just five when the war began.

But the pensioner remembers vividly how as a boy he watched the conflict unfold, played with German bombs and danced with his village around a giant bonfire on VE Day on May 8, 1945.

His family, like others in Darenth near Dartford where he lived at the time, dug shelters in their gardens to hide from bombs flying over to London.

“We were down there every night once the doodlebugs came,” the now 90-year-old told KentOnline.

Doodlebugs, officially known as V-1 flying bombs, were pilotless German missiles.

They made a loud buzzing sound, then fell silent before exploding.

Bernard remembers the sirens and the constant drone of engines above.

“If the engine stopped, you waited for the bang,” he said.

Despite the war, Bernard and the other boys spent most of their days outside, often in Darenth Woods behind the estate.

Very often, they picked up unexploded incendiary bombs.

They were small, magnesium-filled devices dropped by German planes in the hundreds to start fires everywhere and overwhelm British emergency services.

“If we found them, they were ours,” he added.

He recalls how they would often drag the bombs into sheds and used nails to set off the detonators.

Then they emptied the powder and lit it on the ground for fun.

“Empty containers we turned into money boxes,” Bernard said. “Drilled a slot in the top and dropped coins in.

“Nobody stopped us.”

Bernard also remembered how one day he was walking back to school during lunch when a deafening explosion shook the area.

Seconds later, an even louder blast followed.

It was a V-2 rocket, the world’s first long-range guided missile, launched by Nazi Germany from occupied France.

The rocket soared to the edge of space, then fell at supersonic speed.

It carried a one-ton warhead and struck without warning, no siren, no sound, just the bang.

“That one came down about 400 yards from the school,” Bernard said.

“Luckily it landed in a field.”

By the time Germany surrendered, Bernard was eleven.

His village marked the end of the war with a bonfire and celebration. They built the tallest they could in the middle of the green, using whatever they could carry.

Men dragged down tree trunks from Darenth Woods and women carried branches, Bernard recollects.

Children hauled bracken to help it catch.

“It was massive,” Bernard said. “I doubt anyone in the country had a bigger one than us.

“Flames lit up the sky.”

Families danced, sang and gathered around the fire late into the night.

The only frightening moment came when someone set off a phosphorus bomb.

“It was just for fun, but it burned through our shoes,” Bernard remembered.

“People screamed. They ran for buckets of water.”

White phosphorus ignites on contact with air and can sticks to skin, burning it at over 800°C.

Water can slow it, but the damage is often severe.

Bernard didn’t understand the danger until years later, when he served in the army’s ammunition unit.

After the war, Bernard worked as an engineer at Stone House Hospital for 42 years.

He also chaired the hospital’s staff social club for two decades.

Now he runs a local friendship group called the Spare Parts Club, which still meets once a month.

“When we started, there were 31 of us, he said “Now there’s only 11 left.”

He’s survived a triple heart bypass, five joint replacements, cancer and a pulmonary embolism.

“I still do four sets of exercises every day,” he said when asked about his secret to a long life.

In 2008, he lost his wife Patricia after 54 years of marriage.

“I’ve had everything thrown at me, but I just keep going,” he said.

He wrote his memories by hand and published them in a book titled ‘Off the Top of My Head’.

“Because it’s all still up here,” he said, tapping his head. “I don’t need notes. I remember everything.”