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"This story was submitted to the People's War site by CSV/91�ȱ� Radio Nottingham on behalf of Mr Ronald James Cooke with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions"

1942 Then Air Raid Siren wailed out of it’s frequent mighty warning of an impending raid by the German bombers as they moved in lane following the River Trent as their guide. Searchlights raked the skies attempting to pick out any of their formation overhead. The menacing hum of their engines was interrupted only by the Ack Ack gun batteries hoping to score a lucky hit, but regretfully not with success. We, as kids, looked upon this scene with some excitement. To us it seemed like some great game. As we stared through our bedroom window on Coppice Road at Arnold, Mapperley Plains. We watched the pock marker in the sky as the Ack Ack shells exploded with bright blinding flashes. We knew the following morning that fragments of shrapnel would be found in abundance. To compare with our mates who had found the best piece. However, the following morning was not to be the same as mother busied us to get ready for Robert Mellors school. The melee was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. An air raid warden stood there; his helmet at a rakish angle. “Missus”, he said, “there’s been some kind of a bomb on a parachute on Smith’s field, just down the road. I’ve come to tell you to open all your windows in case it explodes. And you”, he pointed at us, “you’ve got to go across Wollater’s fields and that road till the army’s been from Chilwell to move it”. At that he moved off to notify the rest of the neighbours. The army arrived a good few hours later to defuse and remove it. We heard later it was a large mine. Had it exploded, we were informed, the blast would have taken all the houses over a large area. An officer was bemused and concerned that the parachute was no longer attached to the bomb and nowhere to be found. The line that secured the parachute had been severed and neatly placed alongside. The mystery remained unsolved for a few days. It later evolved that Mr Moore, an old gentleman on his way to his smallholding in the early hours, had taken his usual route across the field, came across the bomb and chute laying there and realising that the silk was of value and in great demand. Due to cloth rationing deftly, with no apparent fear of the danger involved, hacked away at the lines with his pen knife and carried it home, probably thinking of a gift from heaven to be used by his family and neighbours for much needed clothing. This was evident by the new apparel of clothing that some of the residents on Coppice Road was noted wearing. Of course, us being the close community we were, the authorities never did establish what had happened to the parachute, a gift from the German bombers miscalculating their intended target of possibly Raleigh or the Royal Ordnance Factory at that time employed on munitions

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