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This story was given to me by the daughter of a gentleman who in 1944 was a 20 year old navigator; he had been invalided out of the Air Force with a broken neck.

A very hot summer Sunday afternoon in July 1944. I dressed in shorts only, am entertaining our 16 month old daughter, Jenny, strapped into her pram — supposedly for her afternoon nap. My mother—in-law is asleep on a blanket on the lawn whilst my heavily pregnant wife, Jean, is busy indoors. Peace reigns — until the now familiar drome of a doodle-bug penetrates my consciousness. No panic but time for action.

“Wake up grandma! Rise and shine! Jean get under the table, I’ll bring Jenny. Come on grandma!�

The droning gets louder, then suddenly there’s a deathly silence. Panic stations — the pram harness plays difficult — more hurry less speed. The buckle surrenders at last. Quickly indoors and pass Jenny to Jean already under Morrison table shelter with grandma. As I dive under, there’s a swishing noise overhead, then BOOM, the house shakes and dust and paint flakes everywhere. Jenny, surprisingly, chortles.

“You OK, Jean? Stay there a while. How about you grandma? Thank God we’re OK. Lucky! Sounded very close. I’ll go and look.�

A column of smoke rising slowly at the far end of the road — 250 yards away. Surprised it is so far away. “Are you sure you’re OK? Right I’ll see if I can help. Shoes, where are my shoes? I seize my wellies from the garage and head up the road as fast as wellies and a gravity-conscious pair of shorts will allow, dust, glass and the number of neighbours thickening as we reach the spot. Number 3 is gone. Numbers 1 and 5 will have to be demolished. The roofs and windows of several more will need replacing. All this is absorbed while we gaze at the pile of rubble that was Number 3.

“Anyone in there?�
“No they’re away for the day and number 1 is vacant anyhow and number 5 are all at work.�
“Thank God for that. Lucky! Anyone else hurt?�
“Don’t think so. Here come the police and the ambulance.�
“Stand clear, please. Leave it to us, and don’t walk on the rubble — could be someone in there.�
“Go home, all of you. We can manage now.�

As I walk home, passing neighbours gazing at their glassless windows, I wonder what damage we’ve had — hadn’t noticed any. It transpires ours is the first house to have nothing smashed — just one cracked pane. Lucky again! Be something to tell them at the office tomorrow, me and my wellies and droopy draws!

“Let’s clear up the dust and have tea.�

Two weeks later our son is born on my sister’s birthday. Mother and baby are fine. Thank God, no ill effects from the bug! Three days later my innocent sister is blown to bits by another doodle-bug. The day luck ran out — and I stopped believing and thanking God.

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