- Contributed byÌý
- 2nd Air Division Memorial Library
- People in story:Ìý
- Vera Kent
- Location of story:Ìý
- Norwich Norfolk
- Background to story:Ìý
- Civilian
- Article ID:Ìý
- A2945955
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 25 August 2004
Air Raid on Patterson Road in Norwich
27th April 1942 at 78 Patterson Road, Norwich, Norfolk.
I lived with my parents Frank [christened Francis] and Dora Utting, there was also my married sister Edna and her baby of six months, and my other sister Irene; my name is Vera.
Before I go any further I must tell you that we were a well known family because my dad lost his right leg during the 1914 – 1918 war. He was shot in the groin by a sniper, and he was left no stump to fit a false leg. This meant that he was given wooden crutches to use.
On the night in question, we heard the siren go. As on many previous nights we just did not get up. The next thing we heard was a stick of bombs dropped on the far side of the city. My mum shouted to us to get up. By the time we had got to the stairs, my dad was half way down. It was at this time that the bomb dropped on Saint Augustine's School. Some of our windows fell out. My dad told us to sit down on the stairs, he then pulled the living room door and the front room door so they were closed. He thought we would be safe, but it was then that the bomb fell on our road. The two doors were ripped from my dad's hands, his hair literally stood on end. The next day we noticed his hair had gone white. The rest of the windows had gone, also the middle bedroom ceiling.
There was a lull just after that, and we did not know whether we could make it to the shelter, when our neighbour Mrs. Staff called us to get out as her house was on fire. At that time we did not know that the house had a gable end. Most of the terrace houses had no brick wall between the roof space. We decided to try our luck. Just as we were going a plane came overhead and machine-gunned our road. We did make the shelter just after that. Next door was completely destroyed.
There were thirteen people killed on our road that night. In that thirteen there was a Hilda Newby and her seven year old daughter Barbara. They had lived on our road for about six months, they came from another part of the city that had been in enemy action.
I still from time to time relive those days. We had no water, and it was as I was walking down the road next day to fetch the water that I had to pass two of the bodies that were retrieved from the rubble. I had my fourteenth birthday eleven days later.
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