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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 6, Number 4, December 2012

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Robert Davey
Dereham, Norfolk, England


Doodlebug

At the start of the Second World War, my grandfather joined the RAF, leaving my grandmother and mother in London. Although most kids were evacuated from bigger cities, my grandmother could not bear to be left on her own, and kept my mother with her.

Mum told me about the air raids, the shelters, the bombed out houses. She saw the first doodlebug, before anyone knew what it was: a flying bomb, packed with 2000 lbs of explosive. Many more followed, often heard rather than seen.

Mum described their distinctive sound, the sudden silence as the engine cut out, the long seconds of wondering as it fell, unseen, towards the rooftops . . .

falling stars
time enough
for a prayer

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