大象传媒

DOODLEBUG NIGHTS

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War website by John Hughes on behalf of William Hughes, his brother, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

By 1944, when I was 12 years old, my home had moved from near the Elephant and Castle to suburban Kingsbury, as a result of the bombing London had suffered. One day, my mother took us to visit her sister, who lived beyond Croydon, far on the opposite side of London from us. We had always been close and had come through some hard times together. There were good times, too, including our evacuation to Devon. I鈥檓 still in touch with my aunt, as there are very few of us left now. The journey was slow and complicated, involving travel almost the entire length of the then Bakerloo Line. Then a series of tram and bus journeys to her new home in New Addington. A return journey in one day was impossible so we had to stay overnight. This meant we all had to sleep in the Morrison shelter. This was a sort of metal cage, the size of a large dining table and with a steel top, which was meant to protect us from falling debris if the house were damaged. Like the Anderson shelters, which were corrugated iron huts half sunk into the garden, they would not save you from a direct hit or near miss, but they were better than nothing and they did provide some protection.

We were all in the shelter, my mother and brother, aunt and her baby. The day had been quiet, but as we tried to sleep, we became aware of the V-1 or doodlebugs, coming over, quite low overhead. These were also known as buzz bombs. They were simply flying bombs, no pilot, just an engine and a lot of explosive, following pre-set courses to their target. They had a distinctive droning sound because of the type of jet engine they had. They were launched from sloping ramps in Holland, with enough fuel to carry them over the Channel to the London area. They were not very accurate but London was a big target and plenty of them reached their mark. Several fell short too and anywhere on their route was at risk. They sounded a bit like a bus ticking over outside the house. The droning put-put-put sound was unlike any aircraft noise and we had become experts in identifying aircraft types from the sound of engines. We would hear them approach and hope the noise would continue because we knew that when the engine stopped, the bomb would fall very sharply and if you heard it stop, you could be in its way. RAF pilots flying new and faster aircraft, used to tip the wings of V-1s in flight and knock them off course. My brother Bob saw a Spitfire doing this near where we lived. They also used to shoot them down before they reached London.

Nothing happened that night; all flew on to London, but this was a nightly occurrence for months until the armies from the Normandy Landings and the RAF managed to destroy the launch sites. In all, about 10,000 doodlebugs were launched, killing about 6,000 Londoners. I was glad to get back to peaceful Kingsbury, although there I felt the blast from a V-2 rocket which fell in Salmon Street, almost a mile away. It rattled the windows of our flat. These were worse because you had no warning of their approach as they travelled faster than the speed of sound. And they carried much more explosive.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.