大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by Geoff Knight of Age Concern Suffolk on behalf of Ken Chalk (the author) and has been added to the site with his permission.The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

It was late 1941, maybe early 1942, I鈥檓 not sure.
I lived with my family; Mum, Dad, three sisters (one evacuated) at 26 Park
Avenue,Acton,London W3 and was 16 years of age. I was in the Home Guard (I鈥檇
upped my age to get in) and had attended parade that night. I was tired; I had to be at
work at 7.45 in the morning.
I slept in a semi basement bedroom. We always had the front shutters pulled on the
window, mainly to deter any burglars, but they had their uses. The main bombing had
stopped several months ago and we had all moved back into the house from the
shelter.
I was awakened about 2am by, it seemed, somebody slamming a door shut very, very
hard. I lay there for a few seconds and heard my father rushing down the stairs. I
called out to him and he shouted for me to get up; a bomb had dropped.
I got up, put on socks, army boots and army greatcoat over my pyjamas and went out.
It was a bright moonlit night and everybody was walking about in semi night attire,
not knowing where the bomb had dropped.
I looked over the house opposite and saw smoke, so I told my Father I was going to
walk around Park Road North.
As I did so, I could see some 70 or 80 yards of bombing had taken place. I passed
some small terraced houses and noticed a light shining out of the front door. Looking
down the passageway to the kitchen, I could see an old couple struggling to get
dressed, not knowing that their front door had been blown off. I called down and told
them. I still can鈥檛 remember their reaction.
When I arrived at the scene, there were lorries and wardens in attendance. It
appeared that the pub and dairy at the junction of Park Road East and Park Road
North had been blown up. I walked up the heap of debris where the pub had been and
where wardens were digging out an old woman who was waving an arm from below
the debris.
I helped the wardens as best I could and we got her out without too much trouble. As
they laid her on a stretcher, one of the wardens requested of me the cardinal rule of a
first aider,鈥滳an I borrow your coat, soldier?鈥� the idea being, don鈥檛 use your own! Of
course I gave it to him and away she went.
I suddenly realised that I was standing there in army boots and in pyjamas. I made my
way home as quick as I could and got back to bed and went to work next day like
everybody else. Mum and Dad stayed up all night clearing up the glass where the
windows had blown in. They also went to work next day.
I did manage to get my army greatcoat back after a lot of trouble. I would have had to
pay for it if I hadn鈥檛.
There is a PostScript to this story; Llewllyns Dairy, owned by a lovely Welsh couple,
had both been killed. Two more casualties of that war.
I took my daughter and grandson back there four years ago; just grass and a big block
of flats, nothing else - what ghosts must wander there....

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