大象传媒

On a cold day in November 1941, my mother and I were travelling from Wellington in Shropshire to our home on the outskirts of Birminham.
We went to catch the 6.30pm train from Wellington to Birmingham. The Great Western Train arrived about half an hour late and, as usual, it was packed.
We managed to find a seat in a compartment with seven soldiers. They were travelling to Aldershot having been bombed out of their camp in Birkenhead.
When the train stopped at Wolverhampton, the air-raid warning was wailing. The station loud speaker was telling every one to get off the train and go to the shelters.
We were about to get off when the driver and fireman came along the platform. One of the soldiers asked them if they would be taking the train on.
The driver said that he would because he lived in Birmingham and wanted to get home. So the train moved off empty except for the seven soldiers, my mother and me aged seven.
As the train approached West Bromwich it came to a stop. A signal gantry had fallen across the track and all hands were needed to remove it. The men jumped down onto the track to help. When they had successfully moved it they climbed back onto the train and the train carried on.
When approaching Handsworth, all hell broke loose. A German aircraft had decided to attack the train, machine gunning along the carriages.
The bullets went along the empty carriages but fortunately the bullets in our carriage went along the corridor section missing us in the compartment.
Despite being damaged, the locomotive carried on slowly towards Birmingham, water squirting out of the tender. It came to a halt about a quarter of a mile from Snow Hill Station. The station had been bombed and it's entire glasss roof had shattered.
Firemen came with a ladder and rescued us from our carriage, helped us along the track and escorted us towards Snow Hill station. The bombing continued and a policeman grabbed us, pushing us to the ground in a Finlays Tobacco Stand.
When the dust had settled, we walked to Steelhouse Lane where a tram was about to leave for home. It was now 2 in the morning, and this was the 11pm tram!
The tram journey took over an hour as the tram kept having to stop as debris was removed from the track.
The next morning, my father arrived home from Home Guard duty. He was exhausted after digging through the rubble of a bombed hospital to rescue patients.
He asked; "Did you have a good journey home?"

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