大象传媒

I was born in Hastings in 1939, and lived there with my mother and Grandparents during most of the war.

One of my earliest memories took place in February 1943. My Mother and I had walked to the shops at Silverhill, where 5 roads meet, and were in a tobacconists when the sirens went. For some reason, we came out of that shop and went into the greengrocers next door. The whole parade of shops had a direct hit, and everybody in the tobacconists was killed.

We had sheltered in the basement of the greenmgrocers and eventually were dug out.

I remember so well the smell of brickdust when we emerged and the total devastation around us. There was very little left standing.

My mother was 6 weeks off having my brother, and we stumbled over rubble home - which was probably half a mile to King Edward Avenue.

There again we found devastation - the three houses opposite us were no longer there. Our house had very little roof left and the front of it had been badly damaged.

My Grandfather we found unconscious in the garden having had a brick hit him on the forehead - the scar from which was with him for the rest of his life.

There was devastation all around, but fortunately we were able to move into my Grandparents house not far away until our house was repaired.

Not long after - by this time my brother had been born, we had another near miss.

My mother and I were walking down St Helen's Road near the reservoirs with my brother in his pram. Suddenly we heard the noise of an aircraft not far away and my mother dashed for a tree whose branches came right down to the ground. We then saw a German fighter plane coming down the road at tree top height machine gunning the street for fun. There were not many pedestrians about but I can remember seeing that pilots face with his black helmet and goggles in the cockpit of the plane it was that close.

After these events it was decided that my brother, mother and I should be evacuated to Kettering to an Aunt living there.

Again I can remember St Pancras station teaming with Service men (American I believe). My Mother had walked with the big coach built pram from Charing Cross to St Pancras which must have been pretty scarey.

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