The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Stephen said there was a new poster up by the train station. It showed
Hitler listening to some British people’s conversation. “‘Careless talk costs
lives,’” Stephen quoted. “That’s what it says on the newsreels.”
Susan had taken us to see the film The Wizard of Oz, but she’d let me stay
in the lobby during the newsreel. I said, “Jamie worries about spies, but I
don’t know if they’re really real. The government’s so full of talk. How many
spies do you think there are?”
“Hundreds!” the colonel said. “They’re everywhere! It was spies that sunk
the Royal Oak! How else could a submarine have gotten into Scapa Flow?”
I knew that was what people said. “Yes, but—”
“You think we don’t have spies right now in occupied France, in Germany
itself? Of course we do! Stands to reason they’d have sent spies here.”
I told him how I always looked out from the top of the hill, from where I
could see such a long way.
He nodded. “You keep a lookout everywhere,” he said. “I tell Stephen, pay
attention to everything. You never know. One word in German, one false
move—”
Stephen, grinning, helped me to another scone. I grinned back. Posters or
newsreels or spies notwithstanding, it was hard to sit in a warm parlor with
snow falling outside, and really believe in the war.
But by the end of January, German U-boats had sunk fifty-six ships in that
month alone. Most were cargo ships trying to bring food and supplies to
England.
In February, the Germans sunk another fifty-one. The shops looked sparse,
coal supplies ran low, and the weather bore down on us like a cold heavy
weight. We went to bed earlier and slept later in the mornings, just to avoid
the black misery, until, finally, the days began to brighten.