- Contributed by听
- ericagregory
- People in story:听
- Herbert Dickson - Uncle Emily Morris (Mercer during the war) my Mum
- Location of story:听
- London and an unnamed RAF station
- Background to story:听
- Civilian Force
- Article ID:听
- A4410208
- Contributed on:听
- 09 July 2005
My Uncle Bert was a gas fitter during the war and as such was in a reserved occupation and not allowed to join up. He told many stories about his experiences in London but the one I wish to tell you is about how he and his colleagues used to put out fires in broken gas mains.
When these mains were bombed and broken, the flames would roar out of the pipes like enormous flamethrowers. To put them out, the gasmen used to take telegraph poles, sharpen the ends to a sort of point, as best they could in the emergencies, then charge at the the flaming gas mains and plug them with the sharpened telegraph poles.
Imagine charging straight towards an enormous gas flame, with little or no safety equipment, carrying a telegraph pole. When asked if he was scared or if they missed - he said they were very scared and could not afford to miss as they then would have been burnt to death by the flames as they ran into them. I thought this courage was worth recording.
My Mother was a WRAF(WAF?) CO at the time when the volunteer Polish pilots were being sent in on virtual suicide missions to bomb and harass the Luftwaffe. The young men usually didn't think they would return and tended to "live their last night as passionaely as they could". Each morning when the raids had gone out, there was a breast inspection drill for all the ranks of the women in the Air Force, to ensure that no lasting damage had been suffered by those who may have felt it worth comforting the young pilots but were too embarrased to admit to excessive passions actually damaging their breasts. Some young women apparently suffered quite badly from bites inflicted in the heat of the moment!!
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