大象传媒

When I think back to the war, it is not the awful part that comes to mind even though my experiences in the long bombing raids were anything but pleasant, especially as I worked part-time as an ambulance man. But I always return to the humour -- the British brand -- which kept us going when things looked bleak: like the old chestnut about the husband whose wife refused to head for the shelter because she could not find her teeth. 'Come on woman,' he shouted, 'They are dropping bombs not sandwiches.'

I was a member of the St John Ambulance Brigade. One of our number was very proud of the copy of the badge he had painted on his tin helmet. Caught in a raid, he and his colleagues dived under the ambulance for protection. A bomb bursting nearby threw up a deadly shower of debris, effectively sand blasting his brand new badge clean off his helmet.

Then two special cops, escorting a very drunk man to a shelter found an effective way to deal with the situation. The man was being especially difficult as they passed by a static water tank (these were large tanks in the roadways some six feet high and filled with water for emergency fire use), and the police reported back at the station that the man, now quite sober, had 'fallen' into the water

Add this to the many songs sung to tunes like Colonel Bogey, which made references to Hitler's rumoured deficiencies in the private anatomy department, and you understand how the Home Front survived rationing, shortages and the horrors of long indiscriminate bombing raids. Long may we retain that quirky British humour.

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