大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Ann Wedgwood on behalf of Mrs E A Tonkin,the author, in memory of her father,and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

When Truro was bombed in 1942 I was a 5 year old lad but remembered it well.
At the time I lived in Pydar Street Truro with my mother and father, Hilda and Cecil Tonkin and my sister. One of our favourite haunts was the 'Moors' at Moresk.
On the afternoon in question we were playing as usual in the fields with some other relatives and friends,also incidently, some evacuees who were staying with two aunts of mine.
The air raid warning siren sounded and the drone of an aeroplane was heard in the distance. As it came nearer my Dad shouted 'Get to the top hedge it's a Gerry plane'.
We all made a dash for cover and sheltered under the trees. If my memory serves me correctly the plane approached under the railway station of the town,along the lines of the rail tracks. Suddenly, an explosion occurred and father merely said 'Watch out' and with that his hand went across the top of my head. Unknown to me, at that moment, a piece of shrapnel was about to strike me on the head which Dad had knocked away with his hand. It fell and struck me on the index finger of my right hand where a scar still remains to this day). I remembered seeing blood coming from Dad's hand which he wrapped in a handkerchief.
The family quickly returned home where we realised that the index finger of my Dad's hand was hanging off and was obviously much worse than originally thought. By this time my sister and I were in the 'Air Raid Shelter',which doubled up as the dining room table in normal times.
I remember Mum telling Dad that he must go to hospital for treatment but, as he was a member of the local fire brigade, he said that he must report for duty first.
As we now know,the Royal Cornwall Infirmary was bombed during this attack and father's duty took him to the hospital after all. While working at the hospital one of the fire officers saw the blood and Dad was ordered to go to the emergency hospital for treatment.
The hospital was at Pencalenick House which is now the Pencalenick School. Before travelling he insisted that he wished to go back the the'Moors'. This he did and found the piece of shrapnel that had caused disruption to our day.
He eventually went to Pencalenick and his finger was amputated. The loss of his finger naturally caused great discomfort but gradually healed and he again continued his trade as a painter and decorator and sign writer.
Following the death of both my parents some years ago, the piece of shrapnel came into my possession and I am now the proud owner of this wartime relic.
Hospital raid was on August 6th 1942.

We've preserved this piece of family history since my husbands death.

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