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One morning in the summer of 1943 I was playing out side the front door of our house when my mother came rushing out then unannounced, a low flying twin engine German Plane with swazticas on the side came roaring by. It was so close that I could see the rear gunner who was wearing a helmet and goggles and a red scarf. I could also see that he was wearing gloves because he waved at me. The plane turned and machine-gunned the milkman’s van at the bottom of the road, fortunately not hitting anyone and then continued on to bomb a house in the next road. I often wondered why he did’nt shoot at us. It may have been that the rear gunner was out of ammunition. It was certainly our lucky day that all we got was a wave. It is an event that I will never forget. The target may have been the factory along the road which made aircraft and they were often transported past our road in, I believe, transporters called Queen Mary’s.

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