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DODGING BOMBS AND ROCKETS IN WWII; BY EDDIE MENDAY OF FELTHAM, MIDDLESEX

The first bomb to be dropped in the West London area was in Feltham High Street.
My dad, with the help of my two brothers and myself, had already dug a large hole in the back garden to accommodate the Anderson Shelter that had been delivered by the Council. As we have a high water level in the area with a gravel sub soil, water soon began to fill in the shelters, so the council men came round and fitted in stone panels to keep the unwelcome liquid out. We made our sleeping arrangements as comfortable as possible with mother and father and my youngest brother on a mattress on the ground level and my elder brother and I on bunks above. It was a Friday night. Father was at General Aircraft Company on the Auxiliary Fire Service; my elder brother was out with his girlfriend. Mother had gone to the Playhouse Cinema in the High Street, which left me looking after my brother seven years younger than me, and a bit of a handful. Suddenly I heard a lone plane up above, and I told my brother that we ought to get into the shelter. This he refused to do. I tried to force him, and part-carried him close to the shelter opening. Then we heard the whistle of a bomb coming down, and we both dived in the shelter, falling in a heap inside as we heard the explosion. We were both concerned about Mother who arrived home soon afterwards in a flustered and shocked condition. She still had memories of being bowled over by a blast from a bomb in the First World War. She had left the cinema and just reached a street shelter about fifty- yards from where the bomb fell. She got inside just before the explosion. With a cup of hot tea she soon settled down. A couple of days later she paid a visit, with me to accompany her, to the Chief Executive of Feltham Urban District Council and handed him 拢25 for the local Spitfire Fund, and to thank him for the Council鈥檚 initiative in building the street shelter there, which she said had saved her from injury or even death. She did live to be over 100 years old. There were other bombing incidents in Feltham. One night the Allied estate received direct hits from a string of bombs, which fortunately seem to fall in gardens and roads and not on the houses. Windows were blown in and tiles dislodged. But there was one death, a soldier from Feltham Army Depot who was billeted at one of the houses. He was killed at he reached the font gate of the house where he was staying.
When the Flying Bombs or Buzz Bombs as they become known, were sent over from Holland, a number fell in the district, but most passed over and fell onto open ground. However, I do remember a couple of times riding my bike to work at the Sperry Gyroscope Company at Brentford and hearing a buzz bombs. When the engine cut out it was time to take cover, as the missile would fall to the ground with a large explosion. On these occasions, it was prudent to take some sort of shelter, and on more than one occasion I finished up lying in the road, alongside the kerbstones for a little protection. I always felt a bit stupid afterwards, but this is what we were advised to do by the Civil Defence.
The V2 Rocket Bombs were something quite different. There was no sound from them, only a mighty explosion. The first of these dreadful weapons fell in Staveley Road, Chiswick, and the news of the damage and loss of life was hushed up. At first it was said that there had been a gas explosion. Eventually, the authorities had to lift the silence, as all the locals knew it was more than someone鈥檚 oven blowing up. There was little anyone could do about these missiles, as they traveled faster than sound.
The next rocket in this area was rather too near for comfort. We all had the feeling that the war would soon be over and the hours that we working had been reduced. One morning about 11o鈥檆lock, work was humming along at the Sperry Works, when there was an almighty explosion. I was working on a milling machine at the time. I and all my work mates dropped to the floor, turning off our machines as we went. There was a pause and then the alarm went, probably set off in panic by the Safety Officer on duty. This was followed by the announcement that danger has passed. In the meantime, most of had run out of the building to see what had happened. We found that the Packard works, a little way up the Great West Road, across the Canal, was in ruins. Debris and papers began to rain upon us, so we all withdrew to the safely of our own works.
The Great West Road was closed while the ambulances and Civil Defence Services treated the injured and removed the bodies of those who had perished. During the lunch break I telephoned our local Air Raid Warden at home to ask him to tell Mother that there had been an incident, and that both my brother and myself were quite safe. That evening, when we all got together for a meal at home, my father thanked me for 鈥榩honing as on returning to work after lunch he had been told that it was Sperry鈥檚 that had been hit, which was not true, of course, but that鈥檚 how rumors spread.
The third V2 that landed in this area, was at Hounslow West, fortunately on farm land. It caused many broken windows and lost roof tiles on houses in line with the blast. At the time I was riding home on my cycle, and had just reached the Hussar Public House, on the Staines Road, when I heard the explosion. I pulled up at the roadside, only to see someone ahead of me on a bicycle, leave the road and be blown into the ditch at the roadside. The blast had traveled across the open land from Hounslow West and caught this poor lady cyclist unawares. I found out later that she was a librarian at Hounslow Library.
ANOTHER CLOSE SHAVE.
This memory is not about bombs, it concerns gun sites. At the Sperry Company we had formed a concert party, ably led by Harry Thomas a bass baritone from Chiswick. He was a Welsh professional singer from the music and concert halls, and had been drafted in to do war work as with the outbreak of war, theatres and music halls had been closed down. They did re-open later. Harry, always close to his roots, formed a choir and with those of us who were also entertainers formed the Sperry Concert Party. I was a light comedian and compere, and my brother Ernest was a budding magician, who took on the stage name of 鈥淓rnesto鈥�. We were invited to do a show at the anti-aircraft gun site at Gunnersbury. The organiser told me that we had to go through a sentry post, and he would meet me in Gunnersbury Lane and see me into the site. It was one of the darkest blackout nights I ever remember. We walked down a little track by the side of Gunnersbury Park, and suddenly out of the pitch black came a blood curdling shout 鈥淗alt, who goes there鈥�. Halt we did - and my knees turned to jelly, thinking that in that gloom, someone was pointing a rifle at me, with a bayonet affixed. My companion said I was one of the concert party and a more friendly voice said 鈥淥.K.mate, through you go鈥� It was the first time I had been challenged that way, and happily - the last!

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