大象传媒

I was born at 19 Blakesley Street, London E1. My war started September 7th 1940. At that time my Mum and I and my younger brother were living at 73 Exmouth Street, Stepney London. The air raid sirens sounded and I was at the market called the 鈥淲aste,鈥� MileEnd Road. I came back to Exmouth Street and asked a Mrs Lefcavitch if she had seen my Mum, but she'd gone to my Gran鈥檚 house. I went and followed her and walked down Jamaica Street where I saw the family milkman, who asked me what I was doing, and I told him. He called me all the bad names under the sun and then I walked to the George Public House and saw my Uncle John Warchen and asked him if he's seen my Mum.

Standing just 10 feet away I looked up to suddenly see my house disappear. I was covered in dust. A man put a cigarette in my mouth to calm my nerves and it nearly chocked me because I didn't smoke! I then saw a family friend Mr Gogging with his son, who went to school with me, walking across the top of the house. It was as flat as a billiard table. It was as flat as the cellar. I asked him if he'd seen my Mum and he said he had seen her standing at the window with her arms outstretched and that was the last time he saw her. I had already lost my Dad in the Royal Navy - his grave is at the Bay of Biscay, and so now I thought my family life had finished. I started digging, and came across my cousin Jean, who had no legs and asked me if I she going to die. My Gran had no head on. By that time the rescue people had arrived and my Uncle Bill - mum's brother, my Grandmother's son was in charge of the rescue. We were told to leave. By this time it was evening and the sky was alight like a red glow that you could read newspapers from the docks to Blackwall tunnel. I met up with Billy - my mate - and we walked around St George鈥檚 Hospital in Wapping, the London Hospital, Mile End Hospital, The Jewish Free Hospital and Poplar Hospital to see if there were any survivors from my home. It was mad everywhere because everyone was looking for survivors from their family.

Seven members of my family were found and we had to identify the dead bodies. At that time they wanted to bury them in a communal grave and my Mum never wanted that. So they were actually all buried in 2 separate graves in the end - 4 in one grave, 3 in the other - at Bow Road cemetery. My Mum and brother who amazingly survived the bomb, had actually got on a lorry and gone to Victoria Park, a large open space still there today.

After we had buried the family the whole street was destroyed. There was a landmine, so my mother's house was completely destroyed and mum and I stood in the street. I can remember thinking that all the possessions we had in the world were the clothes on our back. We had nowhere to live and our Uncle Mr George Brockle, who lived at 330 Carr Road, Northholt, he got a lorry and took Mum, my brother and myself and Aunt May and Aunt Gin, to his home where we all slept on the floor until Mum managed to find us a place in Islip Manor Road in Northholt. I felt uncomfortable about this and put my age up to join the RAF. I did engineering training at St Athens Tech as a flight mechanic and joined 233 Squadron Coastal Command. I then went on another course as a Fitter 2 E.

By that time the experience of loosing my Dad, and for my Mum loosing her family, left my Mum in trauma. So I asked for compassionate leave. At the time I was stationed in Little Rissington. My group Captain asked me if I knew there was a War on!
If I'd been in the German or Russian Air Force I would not have been allowed to speak to him. My father had given his life for this country, Seven of my family had been blown to bits, my wife had five brothers in the force, two buried in Burma, two were PofW. When I remarked, "Why have I got this Blue Uniform on?" he asked me 鈥淲hat communist party do I belong to?鈥�. He thought I must be a communist as I came from the East End. This caused a problem between us and I was put in detention. By the way I was definitely not a communist. Had he known about the East End he would have known that lots of people were Moseley people. My crime was simply that I'd asked for compassionate leave and I was punished for this and put in the detention centre, which is like the forces prison.

I came out from there and went back to the camp at Little Rissington. I wasn't there very long before I was sent abroad to a camp called Standerton in JoBerg. We heard that V E Day had been declared. I took my crew to the NAAFI - the forces canteen, and we had our picture taken drinking a beer and I was told to take the men back to the Drome or we'd be shot within 5 minutes.

My back broke - four vertebrae fractured in the lumber region, when I was working on a plane and fell. I was taken to the camp hospital and couldn't walk or move and was in terrible pain and I was given a hot water bottle which burnt me because I couldn't feel the pain. The next day I had to get up, wash and dress and go the military hospital to go on a sick parade, which seemed stupid because I couldn't walk. When I arrived the Dr asked me to stand up but I couldn't. Four hours later they X rayed me. The Sister asked me if I'd seen the colour of my back, but I couldn't move. Then I learnt about my fractured vertebrae. I was there, at Wineberg Military Hosptial and was then shipped home in October 1945 in a lot of pain.
I went to the Dr and was told that had I been in the forces, the Dr would have Court Marshaled me for malingering. What transpired between us after that is not fit to be printed. I put my name down on the Barking Borough Council Housing list. Those people who鈥檇 been in the forces who were injured were supposed to have priority on the housing list. Fifty-seven years later I'm still waiting to be offered a toilet seat!

So my war is:
* Lost my Dad
* Seven of my family
* Two complete homes
* Two brothers buried in Burma
* One brother captured at Dunkirk who was a PoW.
* Two cousins killed at Dunkirk
* One cousin on a raft for two days, with two dead soldiers.

I feel very disappointed that today politicians, who know nothing about war, declare wars. They have no idea of the heart ache and the traumatic experiences that men and women of Great Britain go through and even today close on 60 years after the end of the war I still ask myself why 12 of my family were killed and what for ???

George Mooney June 19 2004. Colchester Library.

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