大象传媒

I was born in March 1938 so the war, seen through my young eyes was not frightening, sometimes exciting but it was quite normal. I HAD NOT EXPERIENCED A WORLD WITHOUT WAR.
Being dragged out of bed and into the Morrison shelter was normal and the air raid sirens held no real fear. Bombs would not drop on me. And they didn't, although they came pretty close.

One incident that happened in 1944 however did bring the realisation that war was not a game. I had seen "Dog fights" in the sky many times but this incident was special. Right above the town, I watched an allied fighter aircraft attacking a "Doodlebug". He emptied his guns without success and then tried to turn the flying bomb by touching its wing. A fairly common practice. Unfortunately, as he approached the thing exploded. A hugh fireball in the sky, then nothing. Together with my Auntie and my sister we went in search of the wreckage. The debris had fallen across a wide area but mainly in a wooded area just at the top of Harcourt Road, called the "Highfields" The area had not been cordoned off and wreckage was strewn all around. Suddenly we found a flying glove and as we picked it up we saw the pilot's hand was still in it! Although it did not register fully at the time, this vivid memory stays with me. We were told later that the Pilot was Polish but as far as I know, his heroics remain unrecognised.

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