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John Piper

I was only a young lad of thirteen and lived in the Borough of Acton, West of London. The wail of the air-raid sirens was exciting to me as I looked out for the Luftwaffe bombers from Germany. They droned overhead and dropped their red and green flares which, at night, lit up the sky. It was like a firework display.

Close by, where I lived with my grandparents, was Wormwood Scrubbs several acres of scrubland and fields and allotments, essential for ‘Growing Your Own’. There was a Royal Artillery Army Camp stationed there too. Their searchlights, during an air raid criss-crossed and caught German bombers in their glare, and when the guns opened up with a ‘Bang, Bang’,it was a thrilling and exciting moment for a youngster like me.

‘The Scrubbs’ artillery shot down several German aircraft which came down in the Harlesdon/ Willesdon area. As well as the Military Camp, ‘The Scrubbs’ had a prison and in the same road, HammersmithHospital and the White City Estate and stadium.

In a heavily built-up area the artillery had a difficult task of bringing the aircraft down without damage to civilians, so they aimed to destroy them or blow them up in the air. You could see the pilot bailing out from the plane but one night I remember seeing a parachute dropping but was horrified to see it had a spiky landmine and it was floating towards us. I could see it coming but where was it heading? Excitement left me and I was really scared, especially when it broke loose from the parachute and dropped from the sky. It fell into Kensal Green Cemetery and exploded with a huge ball of fire; the sky looked blood red! That was not the end of it for a piece of tombstonagese shot into the air and went straight into the mains pipe of the local gasometer. What a huge explosion! We were out of gas for weeks afterwards. We cooked over the coal fire and I remember how tasty the sausages were that we got from the local Walls factory were, cooked with onions.

During the Blitz sirens kept wailing, guns kept firing and German raiders kept dropping their bombs. Thank goodness my parents and I survived to tell the tale when bombs, Doddlebugs and V2 rockets were used to destroy, maim and kill so many. There were many human tragedies such as young Audrey’s story.

Audrey was a young lady who lived next door to us. One day she had an argument with her boyfriend who wanted to take her to the ‘pictures’ (cinema). She refused as she was not keen on seeing this film and instead he went alone in a huff, to catch a bus to the High Street where the cinema was. Naturally the girl was upset and told her mother about it who persuaded her to go and join him. Down our road she hurried only to see the bus disappearing round the corner. As she waited for the next bus, the droning sound of a Doodlebug could be heard above in the cloudy sky. Suddenly its engine stopped - complete silence - then a terrific bang as it exploded. It had made a direct hit on the bus her boyfriend was in, killing all the occupants. The young lady mourned his death, but she could have been on the bus with him.
This sis a true account of a civilian tragedy suffered by so many who, through this war, lost so many loved ones on the Home Front as well as on active service. I was fourteen then and had learned the awful meaning of death that war can bring.

The radio was very important to us. Winston Churchill was a statesman and war-time leader whose speeches were inspirational. We listened too to Lord Haw Haw broadcasting his dubious propaganda from Germany but took not notice of it. One day my grandfather said, ‘Well, that’s the last we shall hear from him!’ ‘Why is that?’ I asked. ‘ Well, the accumulator needs charging’ said Grandfather, ‘ It will have to wait till after the war has ended’. That seemed like an endless wait to me with no wireless to listen to but we listened to the six o’ clock news on our neighbour’s radio. For five years in fact!

On the radio was Tommy Handley with ITMA and the catchphrase of his office cleaner ‘Can I do you now sir?’ Charlie Shadwell’s orchestra played throughout the programme. We did laugh! And it helped to boost our morale.

Every night with the sirens wailing there was complete bedlam as we went down into the shelter. Poor old Grandad was always losing his slippers down there and coming back home after the ‘All Clear’ barefoot. Later, families on our estate were given Anderson Shelters to put up in their back garden which was much better, although Grandad still had a job getting down there and getting out! Some neighbours were given ‘Table Shelters’ ( Morrison Shelters) but one group were killed when their house was hit by a high explosive bomb. The blast sent the table into the road and it landed upside down with the family of four in it, dead.

I was a member of a t he 1st Acton ( St. Peters’)Cub Scout group. We had an unpleasant task when Cub Scout Derek Marshall and his family were killed by a direct hit which completely destroyed the house. We went to the ruins and pulled out two spars of wood which we made into a cross and placed on the inside wall of our church. It was blessed by the vicar in remembrance of the family. Every Remembrance Day the Cubs and Scouts took poppies to the cross to remember Derek and his family and all who had lost their lives as a result air-raids.

In our locality commercial premises were also bombed. Woolworth’s store was destroyed along with several factories set on fire on the Chase Industrial Estate by incendiary bombs. The Brooke Bond tea factory was one of them and tea ran down the street with water from the firemens’ hoses. Tins of Fray Bentos corned beef landed in our garden once when bombs hit the factory. Some of them hit the roof. It’s a good job we were not outside at the time! The next day vans called to pick up the tins and we had to hand it in to them, although with food o short, several of them ‘went missing’ and ended up in our larder.

The Civil Defence Volunteers, the firemen, ambulance drivers and police did valiant and marvellous work during the raids. There were stories of firemen being machine-gunned by bombers as they struggled to put out the fires.
In the Great Western Railway yards where Grandad worked, there was danger. He risked his life shunting petrol tankers as incendiary bombs fell.

One story concerns a police control box with sirens attached to it kept manned at all times. One night, after the ‘All Clear’ had sounded, my Auntie Ena and I went up the street to see where a bomb had dropped. We knew it was close as soot had come down our chimney and blackened the sitting room. As we walked up the road we could see the bridge on the Central Line of the underground was broken in two with the rails dangling air. The Police Control Box was blown to pieces and rescue services were frantically searching the wreckage for him. Concern was growing as no trace could be found of him. After a while a bobby - the man they were searching for turned up. He was safe, much to the relief of all. He explained that he had popped down to a friend’s house, as he was desperate for the toilet! He was a v will to assist and hey, very lucky bobby!

I was young then and all of us experienced the will to assist and help one another, bringing us together, co-operating and developing friendship. We learned to ‘Love Thy Neighbour’. These memories I have carried all my life:
Those who never came back from the hostilities
A longing for quietness — no bombs going off, no guns and for all the sirens to remain silent
I wish for peace and hope in our ever-changing world.

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