大象传媒

This story has been submitted to the People's War site with the permission of Mr Schofield on behalf of the Rushden Historical Society.

I clearly remember that day even though I was only 8 and half years old. We were very recent arrivals in the town; my mother, grandmother, young sister and me were evacuees from Walthamstow.

Thursday was the day we should have taken Granny to the post office to collect her old age pension, but on that day Granny was not felling well. Mother, instead took us children to a public building in another part of town where she had business to deal with.

Some women standing on the pavement outside this building were talking excitedly. 鈥淚t鈥檚 an air raid!鈥� 鈥淭hose are bombs exploding!鈥�

There was one lone aeroplane in the sky, not quite overhead. Mother grabbed the back of my neck and turned my head up towards it. 鈥淚s that one of ours?鈥� she wanted to know. Since I collected model aeroplanes and picture cards I was supposed to know. I did not, and stood open 鈥攎outhed and silent. Mother pushed us inside the door of the building where we waited with the other people, until it seemed safe to hurry home. No one had heard the air raid siren.

News of bomb damage was never reported in newspapers or on radio. This was to deny the enemy confirmation of the accuracy, or inaccuracy of their bombing. Because of this news blackout, we only learned what had happened, in bits and pieces of information over the next hours.

As I remember Rushden town centre, the main post office, Alfred Street School and the new cinema formed a triangle just off the High Street. The ABC cinema changed programmes on Monday and Thursdays, and today was the cartoon feature, 鈥淕ulliver鈥檚 Travels鈥�. My sister and I had been promised a visit to the pictures to see this film and it was only after we arrived at the town centre later in the day that we heared about some of the morning鈥檚 events. The cinema doorman came out and told the little queue of waiting children, 鈥淭here will be no performances today,鈥� 鈥淲hy not?鈥� one little boy protested. 鈥淵ou鈥檒l have to ask a policeman that question鈥� came the sad reply.

The streets between the post office, school, and cinema looked clean. There was no broken glass or debris, but I did notice the school building cordoned off. It was clear the school had been hit but we never heard about casualties. Nobody seemed to know.

We were thankful for our escape. If Granny had not been poorly that morning, we should all have been at, or near the post office in time for the bombing.

Another casualty was the fish and chips shop in the High Street. As evacuees we ate out a lot and knew the shop well. Apart from good fish and chips it was memorable as an old fashioned cottage.

As we walked by the ruins, from the other side of the road, I saw the broken, thick walls, the upper floor having crashed down upon the ground floor. In times past, before 鈥渄amp course鈥� was invented, houses were built with two or three foot thick walls. That cottage must have been older than most other buildings in the town.

I never did hear what happened to the white haired couple who ran it. The story spread through town next day that the German bomber responsible had been shot down. I do not know if that was true.

I left Rushden in the spring of 1941, and have never returned. Neither have I corresponded with nor spoken to anyone who knows or knew the town (until now of course). What I have written here is from the memories of an eight year old child. I believe it to be accurate.

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