大象传媒

(ID No 1485375)

This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People鈥檚 War site by CSV Storygatherer Janet on behalf of Eric Stanley Rickman. The story has been added to the site with his permission. And Eric fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

In 1940 I was a student at the Clapham School of Art, since my family had moved to Raynes Park, near Wimbledon, I cycled the eight miles there and back on my new bike. It was a drop-handled Raleigh, with the new deraileur gears, and cost me 拢6. I was 17 at the time, awaiting call-up, so I joined the Local Defence Volunteers (later called the Home Guard) as a cyclist messenger, with a tin hat and an LDV armband.

Our headquarters was a large double-fronted house at the western end of Grand Drive, and if the air-raid siren had sounded the alarm, my job of an evening was to call round to each member of my platoon, check whether they were available, and report back to HQ.

I remember seeing a large jagged piece fall on the road ahead of me, and thinking it would make a good souvenir, I stopped to pick it up, but dropped it immediately when it burnt my fingers. Could't wait for it to cool down, so I left it.

Soon I was approaching the big double gates of HQ, so as usual I slid down on to the crossbar, splayed my feet sideways, and reached out for the gate latch with my left hand, and suddenly I knew no more!

When I came to I was lying on a big bench in the entrance hall of HQ, and my sergeant was bending over me saying, "Ah, you're awake, son. Now, can you move your arms? Good, now your legs...right, now try to sit up". I did so, and stood up, stretching myself, and said, "What happened, sarge? How did I get here?

"Well, son, he replied, "I'm jolly glad to see that you seem to be all right,`cos you've had a damned lucky escape, but I'm sorry to tell you that your bike's badly damaged". He then told me that a 4.5AA shell from the gun-site opposite had failed to go off at height, and had exploded in the road a few yards behind me. It had made a 3ft crater in the road, and the blast had blown me and my bike 30 feet on to the steps outside. My precious bike was a write-off, but I hadn't a scratch!

That was my introduction to war, my first near-miss. Later, when I saw active service as a Fleet Air Arm dive-bomber pilot, there were 11 more occasions when I was nearly killed, some by my own fault, others by the Germans and the Japanese. Lucky old me!

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