大象传媒

On the night of May 9/10, 1941 I went to bed in the block of council flats at 60 Halton Road, Islington. The air aid siren sounded so on the instructions of my father I slept in my street clothes. We never,ever went to an air raid shelter because my father, who had been a front line soldier on the Western Front for four years during 1914-1918, always said,"No bloody squarehead would drive him down a hole like a rat" It was his personal belief that he would defy the enemy in the Second World War as he had done in the First. About midnight during the noise of A.A. fire and bombs falling I heard the biggest bang I have ever heard in my life. Blast does funny things and in this case I was sucked out of bed, along the hall passage and finished up against the wall of the living /dining room or where it had been. I have to tell you that Halton Mansions where blocks of 36 flats with two sets of entrances for 16 flats each. (They are still there)
I stood up, looked out and where the other half of the building had been, was a pile of rubble. The air was filled with dust and the smell was the same as if a giant firework had been detonated. The next thing I remember was my father,saying we had better leave the building, which he , my mother and I did. My ears were ringing and we were covered in dust and looked like chimney sweeps. When we got outside a couple of trucks from the Civil Defence arrived and went to the wreckage. A policeman spoke to me and asked if I was alright.I had never spoken to policeman in my life and I remember standing to attention and say "YES SIR." We then walked to Canonbury Road School, on the New North Road and were given tea and sandwiches, also a bath and a camp bed for the rest of the night. We then walked to Liverpool Road where my aunt lived until my father found us somewhere else to live. He also had what was left of our belongings removed from the ruins and repaired and stored. My mother and father then went back to work and I returned to school. I had missed two days and the headmaster asked where I had been. I told him the story as best I could,and he said, "Well done Bowerman, if you do not feel very well and wish to go home , you may." Oddly enough the idea never occurred to me. I remember all these events as clearly as if it were yesterday.
I was 12 years old at the time. Each time I return to the UK on holiday I return to the scene. Of course all the adults who were there are now dead. I have researched the incident at the Islington Public Library and it is briefly recorded as one many that particular night. Since that time during my subsequent life in wartime London, the post war Middle East,and North America I have led a not unadventurous life, often quite dangerous in fact but I was never scared or afraid for my life. There is nothing heroic about this. If the most efficient army and air force the world has ever known, the German Army and Luftwaffe could not kill us then all the others you will meet will be mere bungling amateurs.
That was my father's explanation for my lack of fear. I considered him an expert because they had made two sustained attempts to do away with him.

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