大象传媒

It was a sunny Saturday afternoon in June 1944 and I was playing ball in the garden next door with Ray Hawkins. I was 8 and he was 12 (he must have been a very kind boy to play ball with a much younger girl!)
He was the first to notice the plane flying low in the sky and coming towards us. He immediately ran to the Anderson shelter taking me with him. As we reached it we heard the engine of the plane stop. It was a doodle bug! We jumped into the shelter and almost immediately afterwards just as his parents arrived at the door there was an enormous explosion. I remember screaming and tasting soil. Ray asked if I was hurt and as I wasn't he told me to shut up. There was no sign of his parents.
After what seemed a very long time men came
to dig us out. I was passed from hand to
hand along a long line of men and eventually taken to a strange family. All the houses were gone.

After a few days I was collected by my
grandmother and taken up north to live.
I never saw Ray again after that day although I did hear that his parents were both killed that afternoon. I also heard
that they were in fact his foster parents as were mine. Therefore I am almost certain
that Ray Hawkins was not his real name any
more than Jean Potter was mine.

It would be lovely to be able to thank him for saving my life and thus ensuring the birth of my three sons and two grandchildren.

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