Sunday
Asleep last night before
midnight, without a care in the world, only to be awakened soon after by the
sirens. Cloudy sky, and an obscured moon, not at all
the sort of weather when an attack might be expected.
Most of the street lights were
on, and cars were moving about, men and girls laughing and screaming outside
the Town Hall, where there had been a dance.
Dressed over pyjamas and went down to the street to see what was happening. Walking along South Brink. The clocks struck one, and there was a
distant explosion. Met a group of
“specials” at the corner of Somers
Road , stopped to talk.
Turned back along the Brink,
walked round the Crescent, (another heavy distant explosion) and went through
the churchyard. Some men on the far side
of the Market were singing and shouting.
Most of the street lights still
on – apparently no means of extinguishing them.
Streets silent now, except for the sound of footsteps echoing across the
river. The moon shone faintly on Bank
House. Wondered if Miss Simpkin [the housekeeper] was
awake – Miss Peckover [the owner of Bank House] of course sleeping the blessed sleep of the deaf.
Gentle rain began to drip
down like dew. More flashes, East and
North. A car drove into the yard of the box
factory, a man got out, roused the Watchman, unlocked a building. Went in, put all the lights on regardless of
raid and “semi-blackout”, came out dragging a heavy chain, piled it into his
car, jumped in, called “Goodnight” and drove rapidly away towards the town. Leverington
Church struck 2, a faint,
distant fairy bell. Wisbech clocks both
followed. A “jeep” came rushing along at terrific speed. The street lights were now out, except for
those on the bridge, no doubt left on to help the enemy find this important
target.
Met the “Specials” again. Told them who I was. One elderly man, (Mr Stimpson the Grocer) very
pleasant, said he’d read about me in the paper, and asked how old Curtis
Edwards was. Suddenly at 2.25am the
sirens screamed ‘all clear’.
Sunny this morning. Conversation at breakfast all about the
alarm. Fair fat blonde saying she was terrified,
and intended to go home to Cheshire.
Rain this afternoon, but went to
see Warby at Elm. He gave me several
more pots in fragments, and some more T.S. sherds. Called at “The Limes”. Delighted to find Mrs. Coulter there, her husband
having gone to a pedigree Jersey farm in the Cotswolds to get some semen for one of his cows. There is no doubt that farming is now
reaching the ultimate insanity.
Mrs. Coulter talked about the raid
last night. Said she was very
frightened, and just could not bear it if they were going to start regular
nightly raids again. Did not say that I
fear this is only too probable. Stayed
talking until 10.30, then back to an early bed hopefully.
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