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A recollection of wartime bombing by John Milne Croston, transcribed by his daughter, Yvonne Parr.

During the Second World War, I lived in Atherleigh, which is between Leigh and Atherton and is about 12 miles northwest of Manchester. During the night of 8th May 1941, just before my 12th birthday, our house was affected by two bomb blasts. My dad (James) was away on fire watch duty at the mill where he was chief cashier during the day. The mill was only a 3 minute walk from our house. My dad saw the explosion from the roof of the mill, but was unable to leave his post until the morning. He must have spent all night worrying about whether his family was still alive. My mum (Doris), my younger sister (Margaret) and myself were spending the night in the downstairs front room (the sitting room). We put our beds in there because it seemed safer than upstairs in the event of a bomb blast. We didn鈥檛 have a free Anderson shelter because my dad earned a reasonably good wage of 拢6 per week.

During this particular night, I heard the German plane flying overhead and I stuck my head under the covers. It was lucky I did, because seconds later, the glass from our large bay window was blown into the room and landed on top of our bedspreads (no one had duvets then). When it was safe, the three of us got up and saw that the room was filled with glass and that plaster had been blown off the walls and ceiling. It was still dark. A few minutes later, one of my dad鈥檚 work colleagues (Ivy Brocklehurst), her dad and her lodger (Maud Whittaker), came across the street to our house. Their house was in the terrace behind which the German bomb had exploded. Ivy brought with her a tin box full of her savings. Unfortunately, in the blackout darkness (no street lights) she lost her footing and dropped the money in the front porch. She was unable to see clearly enough to pick it up and was forced to leave it there until it grew light. Fortunately, the money was retrieved the next day. As soon as everyone had been evacuated from the houses, troops with rifles were put on duty to protect the homes from looters. No one was allowed in without showing their identification papers first.
The residents from our street were sent to wait in an air raid shelter in a cellar that was situated underneath the local workhouse. This building was later known as Atherleigh Hospital and it was used to care for geriatrics and people with dementure. When it got light, I pleaded and pleaded with my mum to let me go outside to find out more about what had happened. Eventually, she agreed, but said I had to stay in sight of her. I didn鈥檛 though. Being a young boy, who was fascinated with aspects of the war, I remember walking on the pavements that were covered in broken glass. With hindsight, I wish I had thought to go to the mill where my dad was on fire watch duty to reassure him that we were all safe. My dad had a heart problem that killed him in 1944 and I believe that the stress caused by effects of the bomb blast might have played a part in his death aged 55 .

My family had to stay with my mum鈥檚 sister, Aunty Clara whilst our home was being repaired. This was quite difficult because my Aunty, Uncle Billy and son Leonard lived in a two bedroom terrace in Wilkinson Street, so it was very cramped with 7 of us sharing it. We stayed with them for about 4 months whilst our house underwent basic repairs such as replacing doors, re-plastering and re-glazing.

The reliable facts about the bomb are few. The rumours and stories are numerous. The bomb landed in the back gardens between two facing rows of terraced houses situated in Furnival Street and Westbourne Avenue. If you look at the rooves of these houses today, you can see that some of the grey slates are a different age and colour to the original slates that cover the surrounding houses. Some of the first floor joists collapsed to the ground floor carrying with them the contents of the upstairs rooms.
Some people reported that one couple were tucked up in bed upstairs when their bedroom collapsed to the ground floor and the back wall of the house caved in. Sybil, my late wife, reported that one of the end terrace council houses on Maple Crescent, lost its gable wall and when people looked inside at the remainder of the house, there was a picture of the Virgin Mary, still intact, hanging on the wall, as if in defiance of Hitler. Some people believe that the reason why the German pilot dropped the bomb is because there was a steam powered goods train in the nearby railway station and he was attracted to the light from the furnace as the fireman opened the furnace door to shovel more coal in. Some people think that the pilot may have believed that he was at Atherton Central Railway Station, which was on the all important supply line from Manchester to the northwest.

During the war, my mum used to keep chickens in our back garden. It was nice to have fresh eggs, as the powdered eggs that you were allowed to get with your ration cards, were not very nice and could only be used for scrambled eggs or baking. My dad and I converted part of our lawn into a vegetable garden. We grew potatoes, lettuce, carrots and peas.

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