- Contributed by听
- Sydney Hetherington
- People in story:听
- Sydney Hetherington
- Location of story:听
- Birmingham
- Article ID:听
- A1171153
- Contributed on:听
- 09 September 2003
When I think back to the war, it is not the awful part that comes to mind even though my experiences in the long bombing raids were anything but pleasant nor the sights I saw as a part time ambulance man etc. My mind always thinks of the humour, that British brand which kept us going when things looked their blackest.
The old chestnut about the husband whose wife refused to head for the shelter because she could not find her teeth. "Come on woman," he shouted, "They are dropping bombs not sandwiches."
I was a member of the St John Ambulance Brigade and one of our number was so proud of the copy of the badge he had painted on his tin helmet. Caught in a raid, he and his colleagues dived under the ambulance for protection. A bomb bursting nearby threw up a deadly shower of debris, effectively sand blasting hiw brand new badge clean off his helmet.
Then there was the two special cops, escorting a very drunk man to a shelter. He was being especially difficult as they passed by a static water tank. These were large tanks in the roadways some six feet high and filled with water for emergency fire use. Their report back at the station said the man, now quite sober, had "fallen" into the water
Add this to the many songs sung to tunes like Colonel Bogey which made references to Hitler's rumoured deficiencies in the private anatomy department and you understand how the home front survived rationing, shortages and the horrors of long indiscriminate bombing raids. Long may we retain that quirky 'British' humour.
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