大象传媒

It was already very warm and promised to be another glorious summers day in August 1942. I was only eight years old and, being the school holidays I had happily got up for an early breakfast as we planned to go swimming. Suddenly a friend banged on the back door "Dogfight!, Dogfight!" he yelled. Breakfast was forgotten as, ignoring mum's advice, I rushed outside to spot the weaving vapour trails high in the blue sky above. The 'tud-tud-tud' of machine guns was soon followed by the clatter of spent cannon cartridges bouncing across the roofs of the houses. A prize well worth missing breakfast for! Soon I had yet another dozen to add to my collection - the thought that any one of them could have caused death or serious injury, having fallen around 20,000 feet, was totally ignored! Afterall, nobody I knew had ever been hit by a falling 'shellcase'!
Hardly had I returned home when a loud explosion shook the house and a plume of dense black smoke was seen rising slowly from beyond the trees across the fields. "Get in the shelter - NOW!" yelled my mum. No way - I just had to investigate! I was met by a friend dashing up the road "Quick, come quick" he shouted: "We're going to kill the 'Kraut' Soon I discovered the 'Kraut' was a German 'pilot' whose parachute had become entangled in a large oak tree, leaving him dangling some 30 feet above the ground. A group of older boys were marching around the tree, brandishing a whole array of improvised weapons, from family carving knives to garden forks and a few WW1 bayonets! They were chanting "Kill the Kraut! Kill the Kraut! Kill the filthy Hun! Dig out his eyes, cut off his nose - stick a bayonet up his BUM!!" Some boys were firing catapults and airguns at him and others were throwing stones. The 'pilot' was shouting in German whilst several adults looked on. Then 'Brummie' - old Mr. Brummel - arrived and started lashing out with his walking stick and shouting at the boys to stop and go home. He was a somewhat daunting figure, as he tapped and shuffled along with his stick. He had been gassed and crippled in the first world war and I remember being very puzzled as to why he said that we were most certainly NOT going to kill the German! Afterall, he was 'the enemy'!
Anyway, even the older boys yielded to old 'Brummies' flailing cane, and stopped their chanting. Then Mrs. Cook arrived. Someone had gone to get her as she could speak German - which was not something to broadcast too widely during the war, as people were likely to misunderstand ones motives and allegiances. In fact she had been a nurse in France during the first war having been sent there because she had once taught German at the local grammer school! She had a brief conversation with the German 'pilot' then announced that he wasn't a pilot - just an air gunner - and his name was 'Hans' and he came from 'Bremen'. Then some ARP men arrived with a ladder and he was lowered to the ground, where we could see that his uniform was soaked with blood which seemed to be pouring from a deep gash on his forehead. Mrs. Cook sent for some water which arrived in a saucepan, some of which Hans drank and she used the rest to wipe the blood from his eyes and clean up his face. When she removed his helmet there was a gasp from the knot of people gathered around. "He's only a boy - can't be much more than a young kid"
"He's 17" said Mrs. Cook "This was his first mission" She used her pinnifore to clean up Hans face then one of the ARP men produced a bandage and she carefully bandaged his head and leg which was also bleeding copiously. One of the older boys gave Hans a passing kick - only to feel the full weight of old 'Brummies' cane across his shoulders. Hans was shaking visibly and crying and had 'wet himself' and Mrs. Cook put her arm around him and comforted him and chatted to him in German. Someone asked "What's he saying" "He says would I tell his mother that he loves her, and that he has been told that the 'Britishers' would hang him if he was captured. He had seen his plane crash and explode and that he had bailed out without permission - and would be shot by the Nazis! His best friend from school was also on the plane and would be dead as it was still carrying its bombs" The Home guard then arrived with an ambulance and Hans was helped aboard - with Mrs. Cook - who said she had promised him that she wouldn't let anyone hurt him. Then my mother arrived and I was escorted home by the scruff of the neck! "We didn't kill the German, mum" I said - "Old Brummie and Mrs. Cook wouldn't let us" "I should think not" she answered " That's just not the sort of thing British people do"
It was several years before I really understood what she meant!

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