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This story has been added to the website by ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½ CSV Producer Nina Davey on behalf of the author Brian Stevens. The author understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was three years old in 1942 and I was out picking blackberries with my mother and father at Carthew Quarry, Manshead, St Ives. Father looked up and saw a plane then a parachute and then another. He watched them and soon realised they weren't parachutes but bombs. He pushed Mother and me into the brambles. I never heard the explosion because Mother was lying on top of me. when we got up one bomb had hit the gas holder at the gas works and there was a fog from all the explosions. we left the blackberries where they were.

We got back to Porthmeor Hill to hear a mother and her daughter had been killed by the second bomb. They were called James.

We went next door and a fisherman called Henry Perkin who had been out fishing the night before had been asleep. A stone from the blast went through his roof, water tank and ceiling. His bed was covered with debris but he was OK.

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