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My name is Edward Magnus. I was born on 27th December 1929, in Hackney Hospital, North London. I owe my life to Dame Vera Lynn.

My Wartime Experience

I lost my parents when I was 2 or 3 years old. I was told that they died within a short time of each other. It was always a taboo subject, so as not to upset me or to make me feel different.

Members of my family (grandparents, aunts, uncles) would not consider adopting this little orphan and the almost inevitable solution was that I would have to be handed over to the local children's home.

However, my mother's brother, my uncle Bob, a single, 24-year-old man living with his elderly mother and father, was adamant that I was not to be placed in care (as I was for a short time). He was determined to look after his little nephew and was prepared to fight for the right to do so. Many legal barriers needed to be overcome, especially with the then London County Council, who did eventually agree to my staying with Bob subject to the most stringent conditions.

During the early part of the 1939/45 war, I was evacuated to Abbots Ripton In Huntingdonshire. Bob, along with other families, used to visit once or twice a month. This entailed him starting out from home at 04:30, braving the shrapnel that was falling to catch the coach. I recall that a group of us would climb up a small hill so that we could catch sight of the blue and white coach making its way towards us. On arrival parents would embrace us and pass on sweets and comics etc (sweets previously purchased after surrendering rationing coupons passed on by well-wishers).

Many times Bob would be utterly exhausted and fall asleep before the return journey. In1943 I returned to London.

I feel that the above résumé is relevant to the experience.

I was a young boy, just three weeks past my 15th birthday. The date was January 20th 1945. It was a Saturday evening. The time was 20:15.

My uncle Bob was courting and was in Palmers Green that evening. I did have a phone number to contact in case of emergency.

I had a close friend of my age, Alfred. We shared many happy hours together. On the Saturday in question we decided to visit the Finsbury Park Astoria cinema. On arrival, to our dismay, all seats were booked, so we decided to go back to my house and sit by the open fire with some crisps and lemonade and play cards. On the way back to my home we walked past the Finsbury Park Empire and immediately observed that Vera Lynn was on the bill. Vera was a star attraction, being the forces' sweetheart, so we wandered across to enquire if any seats were available. To our joy we managed to obtain two seats for the evening performance. At 20:15 approx the V2 rocket landed. The theatre shook.

My home was approximately a mile or so distant. Nobody knew at the time the extent of the disaster that had occurred. An announcement in the theatre was made that patrons should not be worried: "the theatre is safe."

At the end of the show Alfred and I caught the bus home. I alighted at my stop and Alfred continued to his home at Tottenham Hale.

The first indication to me of the impending disaster was the amount of glass scattered over the pavement as I alighted from the bus.

I will never forget the horrific scene that confronted me as I turned the corner into my road. I lived in Moreton Road, Tottenham N15. Moreton Road was at the junction of Seven Sisters Road.

A pall of smoke and flames; people covered in dust and blood were lying in doorways and in the debris. Many of them were dead.

Cordons were being erected by fire-fighters and rescue workers. I identified myself. I lived at number 7 Moreton Road and my aunt, uncle and cousins lived at number 21.

I telephoned my uncle Bob, who instructed me to make my way to Manor House Underground station and wait for him there.

We eventually met and went back to the scene of devastation; so many people seemed to be wandering aimlessly, utterly bewildered. Bob enquired where the injured had been taken. He was told that several hospitals had been used.

Bob could not leave me on my own. There were only the two of us, so together we commenced a tour of the hospitals to look for our family. We visited several hospitals. There were so very many injured. Patients were blackened with bloodstained soot/dust. They were not allowed to be cleaned until they had been seen by a doctor.

Six members of my family perished that night. My grandfather, who lived with us at number 7.
My cousins died at number 21. My cousin George was home for a few days' leave from the aircraft -carrier Indefatigable. I was so proud of him in his uniform...... He and Grace had not been married long. Their tiny baby survived, because the front door, blown in by the blast, protected him by falling across his pram. I attended the funeral of George at Tottenham Cemetery. A detachment of sailors fired a salute over the flag-covered coffin.

I was very distressed that my beloved cat was nowhere to be found. I subsequently visited several local vets to try to find him. I suspect that Bob knew that my mission was hopeless.

On the night of the disaster Bob and I slept with the fire-watchers at the Laundry where Bob worked. Until accommodation could be found, we slept in the Underground Station and then went to the billiard/snooker hall in Harringay. I was informed that Edith Summerskill spent many hours in the debris helping and encouraging victims. She had spent much time talking to my aunt.

You will understand why I tell every body that I truly owe my life to Vera Lynn.

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