大象传媒

September 3rd 1939 was my cousins 10th birthday. In those days we didn鈥檛 have birthday parties, but the evening of that day was a day to remember, war had broken out!

Despite the war, the year passed fairly quietly, but one evening in October 1940, thing changed! It was early evening; my brother and sister were out delivering letters for my father, when disaster struck. It was the one and only time that the town of Padstow in Cornwall was hit. Needless to say my brother and sister were ok, but sadly three people were killed.

The following extract from a local Cornish paper, gives this report:
鈥淪ix HE, and a number of incendiary bombs were dropped. They fell close to houses in one of the principal streets and three people were killed. It is rather remarkable, however, that although six houses were extensively damaged, including one of the most historic cottages in the town and 61 other buildings suffered minor damage, there were no other personal injuries.

The dead represented three generations, a grandmother, her son and the grandson. They are Mrs Ellen Prisilla Cock aged 80: Mr Wm Edred Vivian Cock aged 45 and the latter鈥檚 three year old son.

All the bombs fell within a radius of about sixty yards and there were some remarkable escapes. In a bedroom of one of the houses, which was severely damaged was a Miss Lilian Turner and her three children who she brought to safety.

The personnel of the A.R.P. under Mr R.C.Hunt and the Fire Service under Mr D.Rawe, worked until the early morning with the co-operation of a Rescue Squad from a neighbouring town, and were again busy the whole of the day on Sunday carrying out what temporary repairs were possible

Several bombs were also dropped about three miles from the town but these fell in fields and made no damage.鈥�

We had lots of raids in our area, as we had three airfields near by. They would even come over during the day. My dad would get us to listen to the sound of the engines, then we would know if it was theirs or ours.

My dad was in the observer corps. This involved watching for approaching enemy aircraft, which is why he taught us to listen to the sounds.

One night, after a early evening shift, he had forgotten his door key to get in at home. As he knew my mum was taking us to a dance that had been laid on, he called in at the dance. Mum was dancing a tango to Jealousy. My dad called out 鈥淲here鈥檚 the bloody key, I can鈥檛 get in?鈥� This was a joke with the family for many years.

I can not remember the exact year it was, but there was a German submarine captured in the river Camel (Padstow lays on the river Camel) and the crew were taken prisoners. I think it must have run aground on the sandbar in the river, we called it the 鈥楧oom鈥檅ar, as that鈥檚 where all the boats used to run aground! I can remember them being brought to shore in the harbour and being marched to the police station. A lot of people jeered them.

We had a lot of military billeted at Padstow at different times during the war. In 1943 the Americans came, they were very friendly. They would give us children sweets (the first one鈥檚 were called 鈥渓ive savers鈥�). I remember my dad would not let us have them at first. They looked like what we call polos these day. There were also lots of parties, with lots of food.

I remember one time my dad was ill and we did not have much coal for the fire. Someone would bring a great big block with USA Army stamped on it. We had to brake it up with a hammer, which was great fun!
Another time when a soldier was discharging his rifle into the air, the bullet came through my mum and dads bedroom window and landed on the bed. I have forgotten the expression used, something like being hit by friendly fire. But no one was hurt, thank goodness, only shocked.

One day I meet a young American Officer coming out of the Catholic church, a Lt Pat Molloy. I was only eight years old at the time and cheeky. Perhaps my first words to him was 鈥淕ot any gum chum?鈥� He became uncle Pat to quite a few children and he was a good friend to all of us.

Then one day I set off to school I turned back and ran home calling my dad that all the soldiers had gone. I think my dad already knew. They were brave lads of the 121 ENGR COMBAT BN US ARMY who were involved in the D-Day landings.

I wrote to 鈥渦ncle Pat鈥� from then until the end of the war. I still have his letters and Christmas cards. He survived the war, returned to the USA, got married and had three daughters. The last time I heard from him was in 1954.

When D-Day commemorations come around I think of these times, also when it is his birthday on the 21st Jan. After all it is 2 weeks before my own birthday. I would love to find out if he is still alive.

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