- Contributed byÌý
- allandodd
- People in story:Ìý
- Allan dODD
- Location of story:Ìý
- Leyton
- Article ID:Ìý
- A2006605
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 09 November 2003
There was a terrific explosion and all the windows imploded. That was my first memory of life as I lay under a Morrison shelter with my mother.
I was born in Northampton General Hospital in November 1940, my mother being evacuated to Northampton during the Blitz. We returned home shortly after my birth as our house in Leyton Essex (now East London) had been burgled. My father had gone off to fight the Hun soon afetr arriving in Greece was reported as "missing". After a year my mother received a letter from the Red Cross stating that he was alive and a guest of the Wermacht in Stalag 17 where he spent the next 4+ years working on railways in Austria during which time he contracted pleurisy but received no treatment, which was a contributary factor to his premature demise, aged 52.
Back on the home front, my time was divided between Leyton and staying with my grandmother in Stoke Newington N.16 which was no safer than Leyton especially when a landmine failed to explode when it landed in Clissold Park adjacent to where my grandmother lived. Had it gone off it would have demolished the flats where she lived. There were some proper bomb shelters in the flats and although a bit dingy and damp the feeling of cameraderie and defience will stay with me forever.
Although very young I well remember driving my mother to distraction, as instead of running to the shelter during air raids I would dash out to watch the aircraft flying over towards London or to the nearby Temple Mills marshalling yards. In was particularly fascinated by the V1 Doodlebugs towards the end of the war.
Being so young and knowing nothing but wartime I was never afraid and found the whole thing something of an adventure, it was a great treat to take my tin mug and scrounge cups of tea from Irish workmen repairing bomb damaged houses. What I really looked forward to however were the Yanks bringing their dirty lined to a nearby laundry as they would give me badges and chewing gum. My mother tells me of an occasion when I invited acrowd of them back for tea, I did not know that tea was in very short supply at the time but they all got a cup.
My most vivid memories came at the end of the war when Douglas Bader led the victory flypast of dozens of aircraft, but best of all was the day when at nearly 5 years old a kaki clad man walked up the road to our house and my mother said "this is your Dad".
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