One day, when I was at the top of our garden working on our veggie-patch with my brother, an unfamiliar and rather noisy aircraft passed overhead (Roughly from South to North). It must have been at the beginning of July 1944.
My brother (who was nearly 12 years old then) said that it must have been one of the new enemy pilotless aircraft he had heard about, one without a propeller - a flying-bomb. I failed to understand how an aircraft could possibly fly without a propeller, and I argued that I had in fact seen that it had a small propeller, at its nose. Apparently I was partially correct ("I was a little bit right!"), because they (or some of them) were indeed fitted with a small propeller. This propeller wasn't whatprovided the driving force to the machine along, but it drove a counter, which measured the distance the flying bomb had traveled. It was pre-set at a predetermined distance, and when the aircraft reached that distance, a device was tripped, which activated the elevators so that they suddenly threw the craft into a steep dive. That was the theory, but it didn't always work that way.
I soon realised that he must be right, and how! A total of 11 Doodlebugs 'fell' in the parish of Kemsing. , and many more passed on overhead. Whilst they made only a shallow crater when they exploded, the blast damage from them was usually considerable. It was to counter the threat of the V1., that Barrage Balloons quickly arrived on the scene.
Fortunately the Doodlebugs were not very accurately targeted, and several landed, or crashed, into the Downs, which was thinly populated. From our grandstand viewpoints on Kemsing Hills, we could often see several of these little snarling terrors in the sky at the same time. After all, more than 9000, of them were launched towards London from various sites along the Pays-de-Calais coast in France. Their flight paths for London diverged over us in Kent as they headed for the city. Many of them were shot down before they got to us by anti aircraft-guns, which were stationed nearer the coast. Those that got through the barrage, then had fighter aircraft to contend with, and then the barrage-balloons. About 2,500 actually reached London. Most of those probably flew over Kent, and us!
The 'Doodlebug', or V1 (Victory One) was a small pilotless aircraft 25'-4" long propelled by a 'pulse-jet' engine. It carried 850 kg. of high-explosive in its nose. It a gyroscopic compass which controlled its direction and stability. It had a distance calibrator (The small propeller?), which was pre-set for distance. When it reached its set distance, the elevators were activated to put it into a vertical dive for maximum effect when it exploded. This activation didn't always work. If it did, then the noisy engine suddenly cut, and you had about 12 seconds* of silence before the big bang.
* Depending on how far away you were from the impact and consequent explosion.
I was out walking along the hills, when I came across the site of a recently exploded Doodlebug. It had fallen, and exploded, in a shaw that was not so very far from the rear of, "Treacle-Towers" (The then home of Sir Oliver Lyle - the sugar Baron of 'Tate and Lyle' Ltd.). "Treacle-Towers" is now known officially as 'Hildenborough-Hall',* and later as 'Otford Manor', but not by me! 'Treacle-Towers' it was, and always will be; I think "Treacle Towers" is a much nicer name than Hildenborough Hall! It is nowhere near Hildenborough! Whilst foraging around in the debris of the aftermath of the explosion, I found the 'giro-compass'. Quite a find I thought! I was proudly carrying this home, when a man appeared from nowhere, and he approached me. He asked me what I was carrying, and I told him, if he could see it, then would probably have already realised that, without too much trouble, especially when he looked at it more closely. He demanded that I give it to him. He said that it must be surrendered to the military authorities for examination. I couldn't really argue. He may not have been right, but he was an adult, and adults were always right - weren't they? So I reluctantly handed it over. So I lost my treasured find. Quite who he was remains something of a mystery, because we rarely, if ever, saw any adults up on the Downs during the war. He was of the age to have made him eligible for military service, but of course he could have been home on leave.
* now Otford Manor.
Lord Lyle's 'Treacle Towers' house, being rather remotely situated up on the hill, was self-sufficient, had its own well, and two electric power generators. Cables from the house ran down the hill, to supply electricity to the St. Mary's Church, St. Edith's Hall, and the Working Men's Club. Sometime since the war this source of power has changed, and the church has been connected to the normal national grid supply system for its electricity.
At least one or two more V1s. fell in the woods (Beech Lees Wood) on the hills, and these just decimated the surrounding trees, but left only their usual a shallow crater. The remote North Lodge of St. Clere Estate was destroyed when it received a direct hit from a V1. Fortunately the resident Turner family were in a shelter, which had only been constructed less than two weeks previously. I went along on my bicycle to have a look at the wreckage, not long after it had happened. North Lodge was eventually rebuilt, more-or-less back to as it was. I sometimes wonder how such people managed to be in the safety of their shelter just at the right time. One had to go about our everyday business, or activity, whatever that was, and one couldn't normally afford to spend much time in a shelter. Not that a shelter would necessarily guarantee complete protection, especially from a direct hit.
On another occasion, I must have chosen to travel to and from school by bus that day. On my return home, I had just disembarked, at the bus stop on the Pilgrim's Way. This was situated at the top of Childsbridge Lane. Before I set off to walk down the lane to my home (near to the junction with West End), I must have paused for a moment to watch the bus drive off along the Pilgrim's Way to its next stop, which was at the top of the Landway. The sky was overcast with fairly heavy cloud cover. I heard a strange noise, one which I had never encountered before. Anybody, who has heard gliders, will recognise the swishing noise I mean - for it was just like; the swishing noise a glider in flight makes. I looked up, and just at that moment a Doodlebug dived out straight out of the clouds - it was heading directly for me! I ran down the road like a scalded cat, as fast as my legs would carry me, a quick glance over my shoulder showed me that the flying bomb had veered away at the last minute I skidded to a stop, and turned around just had time to see it disappear above the trees tops, to crash out of sight into the hill with an horrendous bang. I saw the explosion as the smoke and debris rose above the trees, and I quite definitely saw several shock-waves spread away from it. The engine of the Dooodlebug must have stopped running, before I had left the bus, otherwise I should have heard it, before I saw it.
I don't know the precise location of where that particular Doodlebug landed, but it was close enough!
I have already explained that we had a barrage-balloon unit out in the field, and not far from our house. I heard a V1 coming, and I stood and watched it come into view (it was as well to know where a V1 was heading). This one was approaching, and would pass directly overhead - if it did pass! YOU NEVER COULD BE SURE. And you waited, and you prayed. I had established a theory that: generally, if the motor was coughing and spluttering, then there was a fair chance that it would keep on going. If it had a steady 'healthy' note, then the engine could cut-out at any moment, and it would go abruptly into a vertical dive. This one was spluttering. And, true to my theory, it continued to fly on, directly over my head. It hit the cable of 'our' barrage balloon. The one in the 100 acre field in front of our house. The cable parted. Whether it broke, or was cut, I do not know. This impact with the cable caused the Doodlebug to veer slightly from its course. If it had not it done so, and had it carried straight on, then it would almost certainly have come in contact with the second barrage-balloon cable in 'our' field. But, it missed the next balloon, and carried on regardless - spluttering on its way. I dashed indoors, and raced upstairs to my mother's bedroom window, which was at the front of the house, and from where I could get a better view. I was just in time to see that Doodlebug strike, and go straight down the cable of another barrage-balloon, which was located close to the Otford Road, and just opposite Vestry Road. I saw the explosion, and I ducked down to be below the level of windowsill, to be away from the window glass (not that I should have realistically expected the blast to be effective from that distance). I waited, crouched below the window, and it seemed an extraordinarily long time before the sound of the bang reached me. I remember feeling a little bit cocky, because I had worked out in my mind the reason why - I knew that sound takes longer to travel than light (Or vision) does. Sound travels at about 700 miles per hour, but it still a seemed a jolly long time. Although it probably only took about 2½ seconds for the sound of the explosion to reach me.
Opposite that particular Balloon site was a large nursery, known then as: ' Ladd's Nursery', which had rows of long green houses. They were shattered, I doubt if a single pane of glass remained intact in any of them. Rumour had it that the crew manning that balloon unit had dived into a slit trench, and I think most of them survived - but I'm not at all sure about that. I expect the event will be recorded somewhere.
The harsh growling noise of the Doodlebug's pulse-jet engine was most unpleasant, even more so when you knew the threat that it presented. The sudden silence when the engine cut, was even worse! The aircraft was set to go into a vertical dive after a pre-set distance, the engine only cut out, because the violent, and sudden, change of direction starved it of fuel. It wasn't an intentional feature of its design - the engine was supposed to keep running all the way down to the ground.
As I have just explained, the engine noise was most unpleasant. At night it was even worse. I remember burying my head under the pillow to hide from the noise of passing flying bombs. If the engine stopped, you had about 12 seconds of silence and shear terror, until you heard the resultant bang, and you knew that you were safe (from that one), and to relax until the next one came along.
However, we must have slept through some of it. One night I was awoken by an almighty bang - the whole house shook. My mother and I emerged from our respective bedrooms simultaneously, meeting each other on the landing. There was dust and debris everywhere. The plaster ceilings had come down, and it was crunching and uncomfortable under our bare feet. Suddenly my mother cried out in alarm: "Where's Derek?" (there had been no sight, nor sound, from my brother in the other bedroom). We both went into his bedroom. Fragments of the ceiling were all over the place, on the floor, and on the bed - that, and dust was everywhere! We discovered that my brother was still asleep. I vaguely remember that he had a slight graze mark on his forehead.
After we had sorted ourselves out a bit, it was decided that we should sleep the rest of that night downstairs in the hall, on the floor. My faith, and belief, in my mother's theory, that of bombs were not going to hit us - she thought that we were invincible, was starting to weaken. However, the next night saw us back upstairs back in our proper beds again.
In the light of the next morning, I went to investigate. The V1. had come down almost on the lower part of Childsbridge Lane where was almost no noticeable crater, but debris was everywhere, over a huge area.
The lane was quickly cleared of all the immediate debris, and I was able to cycle to school again; though I didn't always go that way. Often I went to school using the longer, but safer way, via Otford. Safer for me, because I had to run the gauntlet of the kids who lived in the Council Houses just south of the railway bridge in Childsbridge Lane. These kids often threatened us (or me, if I was on my own), and on one occasion I was in the midst of some stone throwing, I was hit by a stone, which caused me to come off my bike. I suffered some quite nasty bruising and grazing. It wasn't far from the council-houses (Seal Croft Cottages) to the Ash-Platts bridleway (a short-cut to Seal Hollow Road), and once I gained that unscathed, and was away along that, then I reckoned that I was safe. It was up hill until then, which didn't allow me to get past them very quickly.
This, for me, was the most frightening thing I had had to cope with during the war.
I only ever missed one day off school, apart from some genuine ailment such as Chicken Pox, and the story behind that occasion, was as follows: -
One morning, when I was in the back bedroom, and still in my pyjamas. I was standing on the double-bed, when I spotted a Doodlebug over Kemsing, and heading directly towards us. That by itself was enough to grasp my urgent, and undivided, attention, and alert the senses to the threat of the potential danger it posed - i.e.: in other words: - "Panic-stations!" What happened next took place so quickly. A fighter aircraft suddenly appeared, it closed on the Doodlebug from behind, and it became so close that, they were for a moment, visually inseparable. The V1. turned sharply through 90º , went into a shallow dive, and into the front of a conspicuous white house at the foot of the Downs, called 'The Dial'. There was an explosion, with all sorts of dirt and debris thrown up high. When the 'dust' settled the house was still there. The aircraft had continued towards me, peeling off slightly in a gradual curve, which afforded me enough of a side view, to note its silvery fuselage, and blister cockpit - I took it to be a Tempest, but it might have been a late model spitfire with a blister cockpit canopy. Whatever, I believe that the fighter had tipped the Doodlebug in towards the hill below Treacle-Towers.
A fighter aircraft suddenly appeared, it closed on the Doodlebug from behind ...
I happened to find this picture among some scraps of paper when I was doing a bit of tidying up; there is no date on it. The juxtaposition with the dial and the church may be a bit awry.
There was a T.V. programme (March 2002) about WW2. And the V1s, in which a fighter pilot who was flying a Typhoon, called Bob Barckley was interviewed; he said that he tipped a Doodlebug near Sevenoaks. He said that it had turned and dived into a wood. This incident may not have been the same one, but if the aircraft had tipped the V1, it would then have flown ahead of the victim, and that being the case, then, he may possibly not have been able to see too well, as to what precisely did happen to that particular flying bomb, after he had tipped it. It was slightly wooded immediately adjacent to the 'Dial'.
I am somewhat puzzled as to what had become of the barrage-balloons at this stage. Where were they? It would have been rather risky for the pilot of the Tempest to have flown in among the balloons, although I don't remember there being any in located the village itself. Balloons may well have still been in place there then. It is just a detail of the time that I don't remember, or it didn't register, if there were, or not. But, I do vaguely remember a balloon, which had, apparently, broken free (the cable could have been cut perhaps?) and it was drifting above Sevenoaks. I was waiting with others for a bus. We saw a fighter aircraft appeared on the scene and it made several passes around and at the stray balloon.
We used to play with the Barrage-Balloon crew who were based in the field just across the road. They had a heavy leather football.
We were all watching the drama unfold, One of the men in the group who was waiting for the bus exclaimed loudly:-
"Eees trying to shoot 'im darn" .
"Why would they would they want to do that?" I asked. I didn't get an immediate answer.
Whilst in the mean time, the fighter was having apparently no affect on the wayward balloon, and eventually it departed from the scene.
"Eees run art of ammo, I suspect." said one.
"But why shoot it down?" I asked.
"Cos its an 'azard to airplanes".
"But!" I cried: "its one of ours balloons, being shot down by one of our aircraft!" It didn't sense to me at the time, but a loose balloon would have been a hazard to friend and foe alike.
Then another fighter came into the fray and this time his fire caused the poor balloon to burst into flames, it collapsed and sank down beyond the horizon.
"I bet 'e 'ad tracers", said our friend.
Another Doodlebug to cause damage, and injury, fell in Rye Lane Otford, the sister of a friend of ours (John Hilder's sister-in-law?) was injured in that incident. Another one fell on a house at the top of Tudor Drive, off the Pilgrim's Way, near Otford, on July the 29th., 1944 - when one elderly lady was killed. In total 137 Doodlebugs fell in the Sevenoaks rural district.
Things were getting serious! I thought we (The Allies) were supposed to be gaining the upper-hand in this war.
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