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This story was submitted to the website by Ann Reilly at Bracknell library on behalf of David Scott. He has given his permission for this story to be put on the website.

I was three at the beginning of the war and lived in North West London in Neasden. The area where I lived was not heavily bombed but the industrial areas around were subject to attack. As children we were used to seeing dog fights overhead because we were near Hendon and Uxbridge airfields. We watched the V1s-doodle bugs — overhead and ran up the road wandering where they would go. For us as children this was very exciting and we enjoyed watching the planes antics.

For two years we moved to live with an aunt in Rayners Lane and I started school there but we returned and I went to Wyckham School.

The incident I am going to tell you about happened in the last 24 hours of the V2 rockets. I was in bed. The family were downstairs having supper. I was asleep when a rocket struck Wyckham School which was about ¼ of a mile from where I lived. I was told that the explosion did not wake me but the family dragged me out from the rubble from the ceiling that had fallen on me.

My uncle took me out to see the damage. We walked around the streets and saw rows of houses with no fronts. They were opened up like dolls houses and we could see people sitting at tables. Some were trapped in bed by the fallen ceilings and were calling for help. The school was half gone completely destroyed as were some houses opposite. Several of my school friends were killed that night. There was chaos. There were fire engines and police and ARP wardens everywhere.

The next day we were anxious to see what had happened and were thrilled that there was no school. That was soon sorted out and we were sent to Brankcroft School. We attended for half a day much to our dismay.

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