David Bloomer

Audio recording of these words

I was born in the early part of the war in the East End of London, where my father was the vicar of the Parish of Barking. Our vicarage windows were mostly filled with brown paper because the bombing had broken all the glass and we spent many nights in the cellar - except for my father who visited the other air raid shelters.
 
Like everyone, our family were issued with gas masks – but because I was so young mine was made to look a bit like Mickey Mouse and I remember it has a long red floppy nose. Of course, it was never used.
 
The war confused me – my father had been made Canon, yet from the cellar I could hear loud bangs during the air raids and I was told it was only the Cannons going off in Barking park; that’s puzzling, I thought.
 
My father joined the Home Guard – and looked good in his uniform! Late in the war a V2 rocket completely destroyed one of the parish’s two churches on a Sunday. Fortunately, the service was over and few got killed, but they included a choir boy who had forgotten his cap and had run back to collect it.
 
I was too young to be frightened during the war, even on the one occasion when I saw a ‘doodlebug’ (V1 rocket), but on Victory Day I was petrified; an RAF Spitfire from the celebrations flew low over our garden where I was playing and the pilot waved right at me – I ran inside screaming! Peace was obviously going to be a problem.

My father


Our bombed church