If you feel on occasions we are faced with an uncertain world, take comfort from this letter written to my grandson Jack a long time ago, that as we go into a New Year there were worse times.
Dear Jack,
Your Grandma was
machine-gunned by the Germans.
This happened in 1941 on a railway footbridge at
Denvilles, which is near Havant in Hampshire. Your Grandma was wheeling her
bicycle across the bridge on the way home from Havant railway station. She used
to leave her bicycle there when she went by train to Petersfield to school.
Denvilles was supposed to be safer than Portsmouth, where your Grandma was born
and brought up.
The aircraft
crew responsible for this unprovoked and dastardly attack on your Grandma had
doubtless overshot Portsmouth and were just being nasty. The aircraft was so
low that she had a glimpse of the pilot's face. He must have seen what sort of
target he had in his sights.
I am certain
that your Grandma could hardly have been mistaken for a military target.
You will be glad
to know that your Grandma escaped unscathed from this wartime drama which, as
far as I know has not, until now, appeared in any record of our fight against
the Germans.
Certainly it did
not appear in any of Winston Churchill’s memoirs. But I suppose this is
understandable when you consider that he wasn’t born in Portsmouth and
consequently did not have an opportunity of meeting your Grandma. At least I
don’t think he did: I cannot recall seeing him dancing at the Savoy Ballroom in
Southsea where, as I have mentioned in a previous letter, I first met your
Grandma.
Naturally, such
an incident demonstrates why the Germans lost the war. Not that your Grandma
grew up to be a member of any elite fighting unit that waged front-line warfare
against the Germans - discounting her service in the Women's Royal Air Force
Band of course.
Nor, if her word
can be believed, was she a confidante of the German Generals who tried to
bump-off their leader Adolf Hitler when they at last realised they were on the
losing side.
You will notice from history books that they didn’t try it when
they thought they were winning!
It is just that
if they couldn’t hit an unarmed schoolgirl - and your Grandma has always denied
being armed - pushing a bicycle over a pedestrian railway footbridge in broad
daylight, they were unlikely to hit much else unless it was stationary.
You may wonder
why I didn't tell you all this in previous letters concerning your Grandma.
Well, I only found out about it the other day when we went to Emsworth, which
is also near Havant, to see Olive, who was part of your Grandma's adoptive family
by marriage.
Your Grandma
wanted to visit the scene of this attempted carnage; she said she
really set out to see the house to which her family voluntarily evacuated
itself from Portsmouth. The house was no longer there, having been demolished
to make room for six smaller houses.
You can bet if the Germans couldn't hit a house the local authority would make amends!
It was only when we arrived there that
your Grandma, in that nonchalant way the English have when referring to deeds
of uncommon valour, said:
“That’s the
bridge where I was machine-gunned by the Germans”.
You could have
knocked me down with the proverbial feather.
Here I am, wed to your Grandma for
42 years*, discovering that I have been married to part of Britain’s heritage.
When other children are boasting about their families Jack, you can now chip in with:
“My Grandma was
machine-gunned by the Germans! “
Grandad
*68 now!
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