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Bath Night
In Britain during the early days of World War II everyone was at war. The airmen in the skies, the gunners on the ground, even civilians going about their lawful pursuits and babies in their cradles. The war was absolute and it involved us all.
Nobody can be really sure just when the massed might bombing raids on Britain began but with the dusk of early evening the sirens wailed their mournful warning and the drones fo Hienkels Dorniers and the rest filled the night skies.
On and on it went, night after night, week after week, and as the weeks lengthened into months it seemed there had never been a time when searchlights had not pierced the night skies and the cracks and flashes of anti-aircraft guns and the distant thud of falling bombs had not added their cocophany to the horror of the onslaught Churchill had warned of.

Our anti-aircraft battery was sited on rising ground overlooking a large housing estate on the rim of a small town near the coast of Essex. It was an unenviable location with a biting North Easterly invariable contributing to the chill factor of a cold winter. Comforts were few — the ablution facilities positively Spartan- just a couple of benches in the open, a half dozen tin bowls and a few cold water taps. It was a brave man indeed who ventured into taking a strip down wash but Bombadier Billy Wells had an idea. He discussed it with the Battery Commander and receiving his blessing set off to canvas some of the houses in the valley below. Although the noise of our 3.7’s firing incessantly through the night must have been hard for the civilians to adjust to they nevertheless showed tolerance and understanding as if grateful that retaliation to the enemy was at hand contributing to their own protection.
The Bombadier returned with a list of consenting householders and schedules were drawn up allowing two men at a time to enjoy a weekly hot bath invariably followed by a cup of tea and a friendly chat around a family fire.
Bombadier Billy Wells earmarked Friday nights for his bath but second time around Gunner Chalky White asked him to swap his night as he had a compelling date with a local barmaid and was determined to present himself in pristine order. An exchange was amicably arranged. As dusk fell that Friday night the raids began early and the battery was equally early to action. But at 1925 hours the Lookout reported sighting parachutes and a dozen pairs of eyes followed two parachutes slowly descend on the valley below. There was enough moonlight to determine a cylinder shaped object weighting the parachutes and as the observers watched helplessly the parachutes entangled themselves with a large elm tree at the head of an avenue of terraced housing. At 2030 that enormous land mine exploded.
Rescue services raced to the scene and fire appliances rushed around dousing the dozen or so fires started by it was not until morning that the full extent of the damage was revealed.
Fourteen houses had literally disappeared, dozens more were badly damaged and the casualties were many. Gunner Chalky White did not keep that date with his barmaid. They found no trace of him, not even his dog tags.
A few days later Bombadier Billy Wells was back in the valley canvassing again. There were new schedules to organise. The raids did not end there and tired gunners would still have need of a hot bath and the chance of a hot cup of tea around a friendly family fire.

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