大象传媒

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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Bramley History Society and has been added to the website on behalf of Ruth Bailey with her permission and she fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

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Wednesday Dec.16th was a dull dismal day, low clouds and drizzle at times but not particularly cold. I was nineteen at the time and having recently qualified as an orthoptist in the summer I was in my first job. I worked part time at the R.S.C.H. in Farnham Rd, Guildford and part time at three other hospitals, including the Cottage Hospital at Horsham. On Wednesdays I worked in Guildford in the morning, caught the Horsham train during my lunch break, and worked at the Horsham Cottage Hospital in the afternoon. Fortunately there was a convenient train from Guildford but I had to rush to catch it.

On Dec. 16th on leaving the hospital I ran to the station as usual but on reaching the entrance in Guildford Park Road I realised I had not posted an important letter in the pillar box, as I had intended to do. I ran back to the pillar box on the corner of Guildford Park Road (I believe it has now been moved) posted it and then returned to the station. My usual custom was to get a cup of tea and a 3d bun to supplement the sandwich I had brought from home for my lunch. Although bread was rationed there was nothing much one could put in a sandwich, as practically everything was rationed, so I could only have a small one. I then usually got into the train which was already waiting at the station. It consisted of two coaches pushed by a small, 鈥淧uffing Billy鈥� engine at the back. From habit I normally got in the coach nearest the engine but on this occasion as I was in a great hurry and still bolting my bun, got in the front coach which was nearest the cafe. This coach had no corridor. The train set off and I got my sandwich out and ate it, and also my knitting. I was making my mother some warm underwear as a Christmas present. It was not a very busy train. I believe there were about 40 people on it. There was an old couple (at least they looked old to me) in my compartment . I settled in my corner with my back to the front of the train on the side of the carriage furthest from the platform. I believe there was a luggage compartment in the very front of the coach. I was comfortably knitting, pleased that I had nearly finished the garment, when as we slowed down on our approach to Bramley Station, I suddenly heard machine gunfire hitting the train. On looking up I had a fleeting glimpse of the plane out of the window flying in the direction of Guildford. It was very low , just above the trees. Then there was a big explosion and the train rocked on the rails, but fortunately did not go over. The door on the far side was blown out and the glass from the windows flew across the compartment.

I realised at once what had happened, but then everything went completely quiet and still. I suppose, because I was young my reactions were quick. I got my hands over my face before the glass blew in and had no bad damage done to my face, only nicks, although my hands were cut. Many people were not so lucky and had bad facial injuries, several losing eyes. I can remember getting up off the seat and feeling blood running down my face from cuts on my head and ear and thinking 鈥淲ell. I am still alive鈥� The old couple seemed all right too. We were certainly in the best part of the train to survive the attack. If I hadn鈥檛 returned to post the letter I should most probably have been in the other coach next to the engine which was more badly damaged than ours. As the door of the compartment had blown out of the train I was able to jump down out of the train onto the grass verge, other passengers were emerging too.

Someone called to me from the 1st coach (the one nearest the engine) asking me to go round to the other side of the train to help them with an injured passenger. To get to them I had to go round behind the engine and along the embankment on the far side of the train. It was much steeper on that side but I was able to scramble along it. There was a man lying on the ground, quite still , and I imagine he had been blown out of the train. I couldn鈥檛 stop to look at him as I was being called from the train by the man who had originally spotted me. They handed me a very young baby asking me to take it to safety somewhere, as the mother was badly injured. I took the baby which seemed unhurt except for a small cut on the end of its nose. I suppose its mother was hurt protecting it from the flying glass and was unable to protect her in any way. I thought the best thing to do was to take the baby to the station where there was sure to be someone to help.

A little way down the line I saw people leaning over a fence looking along the railway line to see what happened. One of them promised to look after the baby so I handed it over to them to care for. On returning to the train I found some Canadian soldiers doing great work in getting the injured out of the train and administering First Aid. One passenger I noticed was a soldier who had been propped up against the fence, pouring blood from a wound in his neck and shaking like a leaf. He also looked as if he had bad injuries to his eyes. A Canadian soldier said he could take him to hospital in his jeep if he could get him to the road. We tried to stop the bleeding making a pressure pad with a handkerchief ,but it did not do much good. We then pulled a seat out of the train to make a kind of stretcher and covered him up with a coat to keep him warm. By this time the ambulances were beginning to arrive , and I don鈥檛 know what happened to him after that.

Two other incidents I remember clearly. One was of a distraught young man rushing to the scene and asking everyone he could see if they had noticed a boy of about nine years old. I had not, and I do not know if anyone could help him. Later I read in the newspaper that one of dead was a boy aged nine!

The other incident that comes to mind was a young woman lying in the grass clutching hold of a terrified little girl鈥檚 hand .On seeing me she asked me to see her little girl was all right. I could hardly understand what she said because her face and particularly her mouth were so badly cut. Her lips and cheeks must have been cut right through so when she tried to talk they moved in different directions, bleeding profusely at the same time. I heard later she was sent to another hospital for plastic surgery. The little girl was taken to the R.S.C.H. The sister on the children鈥檚 ward was a friend of mine , told me how distressed the poor child was, and, when she heard heavy lorries changing gear to go up Farnham Hill Road, she would scream thinking she heard another plane coming.

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