大象传媒

This is Neil Foster鈥檚 story: it has been added by Pauline Colcutt (on behalf of the Fernhurst Centre), with permission from the author who understands the terms and conditions of adding his story to the website.

In 1932 my father got a job as an electrical engineer in the Anglo Iranian Oil Company based in Abadan (Persia) - Abadan was considered to be the second hottest place in the world at that time. For the English winter my mother and elder brother went out to join father in Persia and for the other six months father stayed in Persia and they returned to England. By the time I was born in 1934 the routine had been set up and continued satisfactorily right up until the start of the war. In September 1939 mother and I proceeded to go out to Persia via France in spite of the fact that the country was at war with Germany. We were staying the night in Paris which was the one and only night the Germans bombed Paris. I was taken down to the cellar and didn鈥檛 hear anything. We continued on our way via Italy and Egypt to Persia (see photo above).

In spring1940 it was decided that mother and the children should return to England (madness when you consider France was in German hands at that time). We started on our way back by bus which took us through Persia, Iraq and Syria where we boarded a C class flying boat (the forerunner of the Sunderland) which then took us all the way to Poole (Dorset) including diverting out into the Atlantic for some 200 miles to avoid German aircraft. During the trip the aircraft landed near Brindisi (Southern Italy) to refuel. Passengers were put ashore and at one stage I wandered away from the rest. The next thing I knew was a brightly coloured carabiniere pointing his rifle at me. The ladies put him to rout.

We finally arrived in Reading which was bombed pretty well every day. I remember on one occasion returning from School hearing the air raid sirens wailing and boy did I run! My brother and I used to play war games in the garden which of course involved air raid warnings and they were so realistic that the poor old dear next door would retire to her cellar every time.

After two months there the family sailed to South Africa. We settled in Grahamstown where my father was able to visit us twice during the duration of the war.

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