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I was just eight years of age in September 1940. It might be thought to be rather young to appreciate what was going on at the time. However the war was really the only topic of conversation and young boys were well indoctrinated in affairs at the time. An example of this was my ability to quickly identify the different types of aircraft in both the British and German airforces. We boys had silhouette pictures of the various planes and could also tell from the engine noise whether the aircraft overhead were British or German bombers, which had a very distinct sound.

This incident occured one saturday morning early in September. We lived just north east of Romford in Essex. The main A12 road was just 100 yards from the house. Between our home and Romford is a large public park with playing fields and tennis courts. The park was our favourite playing place.

The extensive football area had been dug across with a deep zig-zag trench with banks of spoil left to prevent aircraft landing and as part of the ground defence of London.

This particular morning at about 11am the air raid siren sounded and, as instructed, we went into the trench. Very soon we heard anti aircraft guns firing and the steady drone of German aircraft.

We had a very clear view of a formation of bombers approaching from the east and making for London. The shells were bursting in white puffs against a clear blue sky. The bombers passed over with no obvious damage. At the same time we became aware of many aircraft diving, climbing and turning, to the south of us in the direction of Hornchurch aerodrome, which was a Hurricane fighter station. It was being attacked by a number of Junkers 88 and Messerchsmitt 109's. Suddenly there was a roar of engines and the sound of machinegun fire coming closer and closer. Just over the rooftops only 150 yards away appeared a German fighter Me109 flying only a few feet above the houses adjacent to the park. The German plane was being attacked by a Hurricane which was following right on the Germans tail firing in bursts as it went. It was very clear to us that the German would be shot down.

Despite the fact that an air battle was going on behind us, in our excitement we scrambled out of the trench and ran in the direction that the planes were going. We ran past our house across the A12 (you could in those days) and across the fields following the bullet marks in the grass from the guns of the Hurricane fighter plane. We ran and walked about two miles towards Havering where we reached the crashed aircraft, full of jubilation and the expectation of getting some super souveniers only to be brought to a halt by some Home Guard soldiers.

We had a long walk back to be met at home by our distraught Mother and a very angry policeman who was getting ready to organise a search party. My Father being away in the army. The responsibility for bringing up the family fell on Mothers shoulders during a very stressful time, which we of course did not understand. We could not grasp what all the fuss was about even though we had been away for atleast five hours during a very heavy air raid.

Gerard

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