大象传媒

London: 11 a.m. on Sunday September 3rd and our family were gathered round the wireless set listening to the declaration of war by the Prime Minister. For me, an eleven-year-old boy, who until then had not enjoyed my strict upbringing, it meant one thing: a relaxation of parental control. The siren sounded and as I ran upstairs to close all the windows against a gas attack, as instructed, I thought wildly of the danger and excitement I felt sure was to come. I was to be disappointed in that first year as what was later to be known as "The Phoney War" dragged on into 1940.

I lived at Perivale in the district of Ealing, which was on the west side of London, and the first bombs to fall in 1940 were a bit of a joke really. they were very small and couldn't have been much bigger than a hand grenade. Things had been pretty quiet in the early part of the year with the odd air raid warning but no activity in our area. Then one night we heard anti-aircraft gunfire and towards dawn two explosions which sounded different somehow. Later in the year we were to learn to distinguish the difference between bomb and shell. The former had a deeper note irrespective of the size of the bomb.

The following morning, as it was a Saturday, I went exploring early to find out where the bombs had fallen. I asked some friends that I met along the way, and they directed me to the far side of the A40, where two rows of houses stood on their own. The damage wasn't obvious and I had to walk a little way, but imagine my surprise when a voice shouted at me, "Catch that chicken!"

Sure enough, a headless chicken was flapping its way towards me. In my alarm, I made a half-hearted attempt to catch the thing, but missed. As I approached the owner of the voice, I saw that there were three or four dead chickens in a garden, and the civil defence worker, with the owner of the damaged house, was trying to round up the remaining chickens, some of which were injured but still flapping about.

These unfortunate birds were the only things injured in this, the first bombing of Perivale; they progressed more rapidly than intended to the dining tables of the owner and his neighbours. One small bomb had scored a direct hit on the chicken coop, and the second had landed in the front garden of the house, just in front of the bay window. The result was that there were no bricks left under the bay and the glass was missing from the window, although the complete window frame remained intact.

I stared in amazement at this scene - the first bomb damage I had come across - and thought to myself, so this is what a bomb can do to a house. I was to learn later that this was trivial compared with the horrors to come; but here I was, trying to catch headless chickens running in circles, and it all seemed so ridiculous. I thought bombs were supposed to kill people and this scene was funny.

I put it into an English composition later in the week and got good marks for it, with a warning not to go near bomb-damaged property again as it was dangerous. What I din't realise was that without the support of the bricks under the bay window the whole front of the house could have fallen down, but I had the healthy interest of a schoolboy, and it was all fascinating.

After all, we were now in the "front line", but I couldn't, and never did, understand why Germany had picked Perivale as a target. It was a large pleasant suburban area of west London composed of houses and green spaces with only a little local industry - principally Sanderson wallpapers and Hoover cleaners.

These two bombs turned out to be an isolated instance early in 1940, and it all became very quiet again - but not for long.

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