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Although I was only 8 years of age at the time, the happenings of that day remain fresh in my mind.
During the early hours of the 16th July 1944 V1 flying bombs were pounding South East London and the home counties. I recall my Mother looking out of my bedroom window during that night watching these aircraft with flames coming from their engines. I recall her agreeing with our neighbour that "They are certainly getting them down tonight". She, of course, thought these weapons were being destroyed by our own defences!
By 8.30am that morning we were up and dressed when the engine of a V1 suddenly stopped. Mother and I were in the lounge, the front room of our house. I recall either being pushed or finding myself behind the settee, and seeing a blinding flash in the bay window. The settee pinned us between the wall and a piano, which was fortunate as all the glass from the window went into the settee! We were not hurt, thank goodness, but the house was very badly damaged. Firstly, the lead from the leaded light front windows went into a ball, which ended up in the garden under the windows. The side wall of our semi-detached house was almost completely blown into a pile of bricks in the sideway and ceilings and upstairs floors were demolished, such that the sky could be seen from downstairs. Every window in the house was blown out, except one in the rear of the house that had been cracked by my ball!
My father had been in the dining room in the rear of the house making a phone call. On hearing the V1 he terminated his call and moved towards the door. The bomb exploded as he reached the door, coming off its hinges and pinning him against the wall. Fortunately, this saved him and other than shock and a few scratches he was unhurt. Although badly damaged, our house could still offer some shelter to a very badly injured neighbour. I remeber this lady,cut by flying glass, being carried over to our house using a door as a stretcher. I cannot recall if she was conscience, but after a period in hospital, she fully recovered.
My last recollection of that day was the ARP (I suppose) coming along our back gardens with a tea-urn to which two metal cups were attached by chains. We were all offered a cup before they went to the next house. Washing-up, there wasn't any - the entire road drank from the same cups!!

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