After our trip to RAF Hendon, I hope you are inspired to write an exciting tale about the dropping of bombs. Will you be a civilian trying to withstand the Blitz, or a pilot responsible for the bombing? Or will you choose a different angle?
After our trip to RAF Hendon, I hope you are inspired to write an exciting tale about the dropping of bombs. Will you be a civilian trying to withstand the Blitz, or a pilot responsible for the bombing? Or will you choose a different angle?
As the bombs rained down rapidly I swiftly controlled the Spitfire making it sore up into the sky. My mate Barry said nice one copper as we flew away into the mist. Suddenly a squadron of German planes came rapidly at Barry shooting Barry down into abyss I was too far for them to see me. I went home a hero and as I came down from my plane everyone was cheering for me I was so happy I forgot about Barry. Until I hosted his funeral 5 days later Barry was described (by me) the bravest guy to live.
Sirens, wardens yelling, and the sound of propellers zooming above me. I froze, not knowing what to do, not daring to move, but then I heard my mother and father’s frantic voices yelling. I bolted down the stairs past the dank, musty kitchen and through the small door on Anderson shelter waiting, anticipating our arrival, in our lonely back garden. That’s when we heard the whizz and then a huge smash that reverberated around the whole shelter and left our ears ringing. As we looked at each other in fear, it slowly dawned on us that father wasn’t with us.
Another sleepless night, another night at the tube station, another night of the Blitz. Hitler had gotten angry at the tiny bombing on Berlin – one garden shed flattened, two people injured, no one dead – and had retaliated. He started concentrating the Luftwaffe on bombing the cities at night, instead of fighting the RAF during the day. While this gave the RAF precious time to recover, it dampened everyone’s morale, and everyone was tired the next morning. This effective switch meant that no one really felt that we had any chance of winning if we couldn’t even defend our own skies.
Adolf had gotten greedy. Countless nights of the whole of Britain sprinting to the shelters to stay alive. It was well past terrifying. Although, yesterday night something ‘different’ happened. It was the start of an air raid (the siren was screeching in my ears) when I heard a familiar voice. My headteacher was standing right next to me shouting at me for not doing my homework!! Grrr… she is so unbelievable! Also, the next second, the teachers pet was behind me repeating the word ‘yeah’ five million times. Then I heard the bomb. Crash! My neighbour’s house had blown up…
The bombs rained down
For most of the battle of Britain all I could hear was bombing, the constant shrill of sirens and the rubble that drowned the streets. If I am to be honest I got lucky I wasn’t evacuated like most of my friends, but instead I was under- ground in Camden Town Station learning like I regularly did. One particular night ruined my hope and that was the day my family found out that my dad’s cargo ship was sunk by a German U-boat . Knowing my luck also the same day Camden Town Station was bombed…
Tawana
The noise. The air raid siren was screaming to warn everyone to go and find shelter. I quickly ran and followed my parents into Kentish Town Station. A few seconds later, this is when the bombing really started and where the propellers sounds were zooming. I was really scared as I heard the bombs come raining down. I hoped that my house would be safe. My friend, Alice, came over to meet me to talk, as she had found me in the crowd. When I was back outside, something terrible I have now seen. My house has been bombed badly…