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Len Scott writes:

On 7 September 1940, as we later learned, British bombers carried out the biggest and most successful raid of the war on Berlin and on 8 September the German papers headlined: ‘Big Attack on London as reprisal.’

It was indeed a big attack - a night attack. Even in Blackfen we could see the strategy. The first bomber wave dropped incendiaries, seemingly targeted on the Docklands area. The second wave dropped the heavy stuff into the areas so targeted. We had no hesitation in seeking the dug-out: Mr and Mrs. Morrish, with whom I was billeted, their child, their dog - and me. Around midnight, Morrish got into the kitchen to make tea, that universal panacea, when he heard knocking at the door. There stood my Danish wife Minna, in her ATS uniform - complete with her little terrier, Ib!

The shelter now grew very warm. The Morrish dog did not care for Ib and the Morrish child did not care for anybody. After my fear-inspired anger towards Minna had died down she told me about her journey from Aldershot to Waterloo. She had a grandstand view of the Docklands destruction and bombs were falling close to the railway. The train often halted. Line-side workers signalled when the next track-section had been reported clear of damage. At almost-empty Waterloo Station, Minna and Ib were ordered into a shelter by Air Raid wardens but she spotted a train which was about to leave, Sidcup-wards and ignored them. This route went even nearer the area of attack and the scene, glimpsed through the edges of the drawn blinds, was terrifying. The south side of the Thames was a mass of flames.

As she walked Ib from Sidcup Station to Blackfen, shards of shrapnel from the AA batteries rattled on the pavements and another Air Raid warden ordered her into a shelter. ‘I’ve got my tin hat,’ she replied. ‘Yes - but your dog hasn’t!’ Persuaded that her billet and shelter were close by he allowed her to pass. We remained in the shelter until dawn when, at last, the all-clear sounded. lt was Sunday morning and we all went to bed. James Batley’s Caterham diary reads: ‘Slept under grand piano’. Minna left on Monday morning and wrote:

‘Where shall I begin? This is how I got back. A notice at Sidcup Station told me that the train would not go further than Mottingham where buses would carry passengers to New Cross. At Mottingham about two thousand people were waiting for buses - or at least hundreds - and no buses, of course. So I went to the main London Road to beg a lift in a car. The first one I stopped took me to Waterloo where I found all train services suspended. Then I waited for a bus to Clapham Junction. There were several people waiting and all buses coming up were full. So I joined the queue of H.M.Forces - several hundreds of them after having tried in vain to find someone who would share a taxi with me. As a matter of fact I sneaked up from behind and got the front seat at the window behind the driver in the first War Department coach leaving London! Well, I suppose you will know my foremost and uppermost thought was of you.

‘Darling, I wish I could pray for you. I wish I could work, or think of something to help and preserve you. I was glad to be with you, glad, glad. And did not our Ib Fidelius behave beautifully! He is the nicest dog we have ever had. But London! I saw a whole row of houses blown to bits by one bomb. The wing of St.Thomas’ Hospital nearest the bridge was badly damaged. Craters in the road, water mains burst, roads blocked, windows smashed, houses demolished. I got a train from Clapham Junction and after changing at Wimbledon I arrived in Aldershot at one o’clock with some soldiers who had been trying to get through since nine the previous evening! I begin to believe that I am smart!'

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