大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War website by Sue Sutton on behalf of Peter Gates, the author and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was the youngest of three children living in Norwich in 1943/45. I remember waking up one night to hear what sounded like an articulated wooden truck stopping. It was the sound of a V1 rocket engine cutting out just before exploding. I remember being carried to the Anderson air raid shelter, dressed in a Winston Churchill brown siren suit and looking up to see the night sky ablaze with the exhausts of numerous V1 rockets.

On another occasion I was grabbed out of the bath and shortly afterwards a V2 rocket exploded with no warning.

On another occasion I was taken to see Caley's Choclate Factory after a German ME109 had crashed into the building. I was fascinated by liquid chocolate running down the gutters.

My late father served in the RAF during the war. He initially trained as a bomber pilot but developed problems with his ear so transferred to RAF combined operations. He ran food con vous into Southern Russia, drove an SAR MTB out of Corsica rescuing downed allied airmen in the Mediterranean. While in Ajacio Corsica he had a hot blooded Italian mistree and was offered, but declined, a sack full of Italian Lira to get a colloberator off the island before the Allies took full control.

Later on 8 June 1944 (D+2) he landed on Sword Beach in Normandy. He was responsible for laying emergency fighter strips on the beach. He was blown up by a mine while in transit from a Royal Navy destroyer to the beach.

I remember my mother going to the front door to receive the telegram. My father learnt to walk and the family emigrated to Kenya in 1949.

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