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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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End of WW2 Memories

by Peter Washbourn

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Contributed by听
Peter Washbourn
People in story:听
Washbourn family
Location of story:听
Lincoln
Background to story:听
Civilian
Article ID:听
A4450042
Contributed on:听
13 July 2005

I can still remember the night when a V1 'Doodlebug' went over Lincoln on Christmas Eve in 1944. We heard the 'chug-chug' sound and saw the flame coming out of its rocket. We hoped and prayed that it would continue - and it did. It evenutally came down about twenty miles away at Sturton-le-Steeple, in Nottinghamshire.
Another sound I remember was the drone of hundreds of Lancaster bombers assembling over the area for one of the 1000 bomber raids.
On VE night, 8th May, 1945, I was taken by my mother and some neighbours to Lincoln Cathedral, which was illuminated by searchlights. One was trained on the 271 feet high Central Tower and I was lifted up (I was only nine-years-old at the time) to press a button which flashed three short and one long flash of light onto the tower - the Morse Code for V, for victory.
My father was a firefighter and he was driving down Lincoln High Street and almost blinded by another searchlight shining up the street.
At our street Victory Party, we had obtained a quantity of fireworks and with dad being a fireman, he was put in charge of them for safety. They were kept in a biscuit tin and taken out one by one to be set off. But while the lid was off, someone threw a lighted gigarette into the tin and the display was amazing. Dad kicked the tin over in an attempt to save some of the fireworks, but many had ignited and rockets ran along the street at ground level and the whole display only lasted a few minutes.
The local 'bobby' came round to watch the display, but he was too late. His language would have disgraced a barrack room Sergeant-Major and was not quite what one would have expected from a policeman on duty.
Dad also had another amusing experience from the war. He was driving in the countryside south of Lincoln during the blackout. It was a maze of crossroads - without signposts, of course. He did not know which way to turn, but saw a shadowy figure at the roadside. "Which way to Lincoln, please?" he asked. "Lincoln that-a-way" was the reply. He had asked an Italian Prisoner of War for directions!

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