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It was 1940. My brother Reg and I were playing football under the railway arch next to our house. We had a goal painted on the wall of the railway arch and were rarely troubled by motor traffic as there were hardly any cars on the road. There was no petrol.
It was the middle of the afternoon when suddenly we heard the sound of a low flying aircraft and what sounded like machine gun fire. Then at rooftop height a German ME109 fighter appeared strafing the area with its machine guns. It was so low that the pilots head was clearly visible in the cockpit. We ran for our lives into the house.
At this stage of the war we could stand at our front gate and watch the Spitfire and Hurricane fighters engaging the enemy fighter planes.
I often wonder if that German fighter pilot saved enough ammunition to defend himself on the way home.

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