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When I was about four and a half years old, I was living with my grandmother and two uncles in the village of Rusthall, near Royal Tunbridge Wells. Our house was number 13 near the middle of a row of terraced houses in a road called Gladstone Rd. At the bottom of our road was a church and opposite was an infant’s school, it was at this school that I started my education.

The period was 1944/5, a period of conflict, which at the time I knew nothing about and therefore it did not concern me — as far as I was concerned nothing untoward was amiss. We all knew about the big siren that was based in the corner of our playground, but it was never sounded, so we did not take any notice of it. Nor did we use the air raid shelter that was situated in front of the church and to the right.

But one day, as we all came out of the playground at lunchtime the siren in the playground sounded, everyone looked up, and there in the sky above our village, chugging along was a strange object that had fire spouting out of a raised object on its rear end. Suddenly the noise stopped, we were all told to go to the air raid shelter in the church grounds, but many of us went home — some went to the barbers shop across the road but some did go to the shelter.

A couple of mates and I travelled as fast as we could along the high street in the direction of the flight path object. Upon reaching the gates of the Girl’s School, we paused by the fire tender that was parked across the driveway. Looking up the driveway we saw a group of soldiers and various others standing about halfway along the drive.

My mates, noticing a large brass nozzle with a hosepipe with hose attachment lying on the pavement, dared me to take it up where the people were standing. Up for any new adventure, oblivious of any danger I obliged by picking up the aforementioned object and started to drag it up to the point indicated by my mates.

Upon reaching the spot, I was the flying object half buried on the edge of the lawn in front of the Girl’s School. Unfortunately, the local Policeman was standing next to his bike, which was propped up against the hedge. He looked at me and I looked at him, and dropping the hosepipe with its heavy brass nozzle I made my escape as fast as I could down the driveway to where my mates were — but my mates had scarpered so I made my way home. END

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