大象传媒

As a small child in the early 1940's, I was making a visit to my grandmothers grave in a South East London cemetry with my mother and two aunts, both of whom had small children, one still in a pram.
The lane leading to the cemetry was long and lined with gorse bushes, with only a couple of houses near the cemetry gates.
As we approached these gates, we heard the dreaded drone of a doodlebug and, with nowhere to take cover, one of my aunts ran to one of the houses hoping to seek shelter for us all, but there was no answer to her frantic knocking and calling.
In a blind panic we ran into the cemetry where two men, who were digging a grave, called out to us. They bundled us all under their van and lay on top of us to protect us, then we heard the doodlebug cut out followed by the explosion.
As the men helped us out from under the van, one of them muttered, 'Bloody stupid Germans - bombing a cemetry!'
As our hearts stopped thumping we resumed our visit to the grave but when we retraced our steps back through the gates to go home, we saw the houses where we had sought shelter had been flattened.

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