91热爆

I was eleven, and living in London with my family. I had been evacuated to Folkestone and later to Wales but I disliked it so much, that I was allowed to stay at home during the Blitz.

One day, my mother had told me to go across the road to the air-raid shelter, and she would follow. We had an aerodrome just up the road from our house, which made our area especially dangerous. Anyway, I was walking across the road when a man leapt on me. He was a young man, wearing what most men wore in those days: a trilby and a light mackintosh. I lay on the ground unable to move under his weight, with mounting fury. What was he up to? I then heard a bomb go off at the end off the road. The man got himself up off me, and I realised he had just saved my life. I was no longer furious!

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