大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Northumberland on behalf of Mary Simcock. Mrs. Simcock fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions, and the story has been added to the site with her permission.

During the London Blitz, my Grandmother, Caroline Green, who was in her seventies, and my Aunt, Mrs. Dora Stanbridge, who would have been in her thirties and whose husband was serving with the Royal Navy, shared the same house at 87 Fernlea Road, Balham, London, SW12. They slept downstairs because they thought it safer than using the nearby Anderson Shelter, which proved to be a wise decision when that shelter received a direct hit, killing all of the occupants. Grandma and Aunty escaped without a scratch but the roof of Grandma鈥檚 house, and the first floor, were blown into oblivion.

My Dad, Reginald Robertson, an Air Raid Precautions (ARP) Warden, was on duty at that very moment at the top of Grandma鈥檚 road, so he was the first at the scene, expecting the worst! Dad found Grandma and Aunty still in bed and completely covered in plaster from the fallen ceiling. He dragged them out in the pitch black, with dust everywhere and very aware of the gas fumes filling the area! Dad would have been in his late thirties, at the time.

Despite Dad鈥檚 best efforts Grandma would not leave the house 鈥淲here is my handbag it鈥檚 not on the bedside table?鈥� she complained, fumbling about in the dark, 鈥淚鈥檓 not leaving this house without it!鈥� He had a terrible job keeping a hold on both of them whilst trying to avoid gaping holes in the floor. Grandma managed to break free and started scrambling about on the floor looking for the missing handbag!

In desperation, Dad said that he would return next day when it was light, retrieve the bag and return it to her. With this promise, Grandma agreed to leave her house. Dad鈥檚 desperation was made even worse by the knowledge that, just one hundred and fifty yards away, there was an unexploded land mine, lodged in a tree. In the meantime, the road had been sealed off and the trio made a strange sight as they emerged from the wrecked house, white ghost like figures covered in plaster debris, which was even hanging from their eyebrows!

Dad managed to shepherd his charges into our air raid shelter, a public deep shelter in nearby Haberson Road, where I was with my mother, Caroline Robertson - Caroline was, and still is, something of a family name!. Grandma appeared triumphant, clutching something in her hand. Dad thought it must be the dreaded handbag but he could not be sure because it was so dark. With a strong voice, Grandma announced that although she could not find her handbag she had managed to rescue her fox fur wrap! We all looked towards her, in time to see a look of anguish as she realized that the fox fur revealed itself to be a black fur rug, which used to be in front of the fireplace. It had been blown onto the bed!

On returning to the house the next day, even though the land mine had not yet exploded, Dad discovered the missing handbag. It had been blown over Grandma鈥檚 bed, and come to rest on the opposite bedside table.

My Father was the hero of this episode, risking his life to save theirs. Had he not been a Warden he would not have been allowed through the unexploded bomb-warning barrier and this story could have ended differently! However, this happy ending is tinged with sadness because my Grandfather, Edwin Green, who was in hospital at the time, died of shock when the glass from a long window crashed upon his head. Despite her bravery, Grandma never got over losing her husband and her home on the same night. She died from a broken heart, at about the time the Blitz ended.

This story demonstrates that it is not only the physically injured who are the victims of war!

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