Millions Like Us

The opening credits wash over large crowds of workers streaming into factories, and a narrator guides us through nostalgic scenes—sunlit beaches and simple pleasures like eating an orange that somehow feels out of reach during the war. In the summer of 1939, Celia Crowson and her family retreat to the south coast of England, returning to the same guesthouse they visit every year. The trip is a quick respite before the storm of conflict fully arrives, a moment of normalcy that will be upended by the rapid march of history.

As the war erupts, Jim Crowson joins the Home Guard, while his more confident daughter, Phyllis Crowson, signs up with the Auxiliary Territorial Service. The family dynamic shifts under the strain of national urgency: what began as a holiday becomes a prelude to service, duty, and personal sacrifice. Celia, weighing the risk of leaving home, ultimately receives her call-up papers. She hopes for a role in the WAAF or another branch, but fate leads her to a factory that fabricates aircraft components, where she will work alongside a close-knit group of women.

In the factory, Celia meets her colleagues, including the hardworking Gwen Price, a Welsh room-mate who shares the grind of daily shifts, and Jennifer Knowles, a self-assured, fashionable presence who feels the weight of the demanding duties. Tensions simmer with their supervisor, Charlie Forbes, whose authority triggers friction but also reveals moments of camaraderie and resilience among the women as they navigate a world at war. The film grounds these personal stories in tangible wartime detail, including stock footage of a four-engine Short Stirling bomber as it leaves the assembly hall and climbs into skies that will soon be filled with danger.

The story widens its lens to the social fabric around the factory as an RAF bomber station sends some of its men to attend a staff dance. It is here that Celia encounters a shy, fiercely hopeful partner in Fred Blake, a Scottish flight sergeant who keeps a quiet reserve even as their connection deepens. Their romance blossoms against a backdrop of shared risk and distant thunder, and Fred’s reluctance to reveal when his first mission will occur creates a tender strain that makes their bond feel both real and fragile. As their love grows, Fred asks Celia to marry him, and the couple eventually returns to the same resort for their honeymoon, a place that now carries the sting of how much has changed since their summer of 1939. The landscape is altered by minefields and barbed wire, a stark reminder of the looming invasion they face.

After the wedding, life carries the couple into a new rhythm of shared living in nearby rooms, trying to build a home amid the roar of war. But tragedy comes swiftly when Fred is killed in a bombing raid over Germany. The moment Celia receives the news at the factory—a reality that interrupts daily meals and routines—marks a turning point in the story. Later, during a mealtime, the band plays Waiting at the Church, a poignant cue that underscores the layers of memory and ritual that surround Celia’s life. The moment unsettles her, and the emotional weight of loss settles on the factory’s community as they rally around her.

In the aftermath, Celia finds solace among her fellow workers, who offer quiet strength as bomber aircraft thrum overhead, their silhouettes tracing a somber pattern across the sky. The film closes with a meditation on endurance, the bonds forged in work and friendship, and the way ordinary people shoulder extraordinary burdens when war arrives. Through intimate, human portraits of Celia, Phyllis, Gwen, Jennifer, and their colleagues, the story frames a generation’s collective effort to weather fear, heartbreak, and the unanticipated costs of conflict.

Last Updated: October 09, 2025 at 09:25