大象传媒

I was nine and my brother five the night that hell broke lose at home.
We had gone to bed-inside the Morrison indoor shelter on top of which, at night, our mother slept with the opportunity of diving underneath if the siren went.
We awoke after hearing an enormous blast after which I distinctly remember all the window shutters on the inside meticulously made by father slowly falling inwards. This seems to indicate that the electricity was still on because I also remember the ceiling of lathes also falling down. Its bomb-damage replacement with the strange peaks is still there today.
The V2 had silently arrived 150 yds up the road and killed a whole family the boys of whom had been our recent playmates.
I remember feeling important next day returning from school through the police cordon and the arrival of father from RAF service in Salop.
Even today when passing the spot I always think that this is where the rocket dropped.

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