大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Elaine Stewart of Uckfield Community Learning Centre, a volunteer from 大象传媒 Southern Counties Radio on behalf of June Foote and has been added to the site with her permission. June Foote fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

It was 1943, I was 8 years old and it was towards the end of the war. My Mother and I had been staying with friends in Mitcham and had spent the night in an indoor 鈥淯nder the table鈥� shelter. The all clear had been sounded, we said our goodbyes and walked down the road to the basement flat we were living in. I was excited because my mother said she would fry me an egg for breakfast (we were only allowed one per week) and she had just started cooking it for me when we heard the brumm brumm noise of a doodlebug. The noise stopped and we looked at one another and my mother grabbed me, threw me through the door into the bedroom and under the bed, squeezing in after me. Almost simultaneously there was an almighty bang and the front door came hurtling down the central corridor. If we had still been in the kitchen we would have been killed. Next, there was complete silence, I opened my eyes and looked in wonderment as I saw sunlight twinkling on the specks of brick dust which were falling all around us. Sadly, the local Doctor and his family who lived a few houses down the street had taken a direct hit and had all been killed.
Later, when we were allowed back in the building we could find no sign at all of the fried egg or the frying pan!! The piano that had been in the corner of the living room and covered with shards of glass still glistened in the sun years and years later due to the miniscule glass particles still ingrained in the wood.
We were grateful to receive clothes and other items supplied by the Canadian Red Cross.

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