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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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Right Place, Wrong Time. A Lucky Escape

by Herts Libraries

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Contributed by听
Herts Libraries
People in story:听
Mrs Violet French (nee Trinder) Mrs Peggy Smith
Location of story:听
New Southgate, Nort London
Background to story:听
Civilian
Article ID:听
A6758706
Contributed on:听
07 November 2005

Mrs Violet French - Right Place, Wrong Time. 鈥 A Lucky Escape

This is Mrs Violet French鈥檚 story: It has been added by Herts Libraries, with permission from the author, who understands the terms and conditions of adding her story to the website.

During the war I worked at 鈥楽tandard Telephones and Cables鈥, New Southgate, North London, where many items were made for the Armed Forces including, Bailey bridges, radios and aircraft and tanks etc.

I was employed in one of the Drawing Libraries in Building 8, issuing drawings for parts to be made in the factory. I was assisted by another young lady who started at 8am and I started at 9am, she asked me if I would change times on the coming Wednesday as her sister was going back to Ireland and she would like to go and see her off at a London train station.

The weather on the morning of Wednesday, 23 August 1944 was dull with very low cloud. I had arrived at work about 7.50am and had just removed my coat when there was an air raid warning, normally we did not take cover until a klaxon sounded but this morning the look-out man shouted over the factory speakers 鈥渓ie down! lie down鈥. The area I was in was made up of tall very heavy filing cabinets in the form of a square with a large desk in the middle. As I took shelter under the desk a 鈥楧oodlebug鈥 (flying bomb) exploded, the bomb had landed in the middle of the factory between Building 8 and a high concrete building. Some of the cabinets fell onto the desk trapping me underneath, somehow I managed to find the strength to move a cabinet just enough to make a gap to crawl through. A fire had started and my clothes were alight. I climbed a large heap of rubble where I was spotted by a fireman who carried me out to one of the air raid shelters. I had lost my coat and handbag which contained my Birth Certificate and Marriage Certificate, I had only been married three weeks. In the shelter I sat next to a young lady who I knew as Peggy, only by her coming to the library to collect drawings. Naturally I was in a state of shock, I had scorch marks on my face, my hair was singed and I had lacerations on my arms and legs but my injuries were minor compared with many other people.

At 10am we were told to go home, Peggy said 鈥測ou can鈥檛 go home on your own, I will come with you鈥, which was fortunate as of course I had no money for the bus fare. When we left for home we were required to give our names to a personnel clerk at the factory gate, I gave my married name which was to cause confusion later.

Arriving home the doctor was called and I was put to bed. During the afternoon my boss arrived to inform my parents that sadly I had been reported missing, one can imagine her relief when one of my sisters said, 鈥渘o she鈥檚 not, she鈥檚 upstairs in bed鈥. The confusion was caused by the clerk checking against my maiden name.

Peggy became a life long friend until she died in 2002. My colleague in the office I never heard from after she went back to Ireland. I did not go back to Standard Telephones and Cables and after several weeks found a job more local.

I realise how fortunate I was to get away with minor injuries, a lot of this was due to the fact that I worked on the ground floor, many people were killed or seriously injured who worked on the floor above.

This 鈥楧oodlebug鈥 cost the lives of 33 people with 200 seriously injured. It was the highest casualty rate of the Flying bomb campaign.

At 6.50 the following day another 鈥楧oodlebug鈥 landed on the sports field to the North causing superficial damage to some buildings but no one was killed or injured.

Whenever I look back on that day, it amazes me how I travelled home on a bus about 12 miles, with a change of buses halfway, my clothes in tatters, bloody arms and legs and my hair singed and nobody mentioned the state I was in. I wasn鈥檛 looking for sympathy but I wonder, 鈥渨as this the casual state the public had got into after nearly five years of war, accepting this as one of those things鈥?

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