PC Hibbs was blowing his whistle in Portchester, 4 miles North West of Portsmouth Harbour and shouting to people to evacuate to their appointed evacuation areas – at that time everyone needed a plan if the worst were to happen and the plan in this case was to evacuate everyone here, 30 miles away to Brighton. I was 7 years old. “What is it?” I asked. “It’s a torpedo” he said. “What’s a torpedo?” I inquired. “It’s a big bomb” he replied and now I was excited!
It was 1942 and the Germans would embark upon 67 bombing raids directed at the Portsmouth area between July 1940 and May 1944. At the age of seven, I was being lectured by our local policeman during the WWII Blitz! “These are the new type of bombs the Germans are dropping, they are not incendiary fire bombs. These explode and kill people. If you see any of these I want to know about it!” One day I found six, stuck in soft grass while walking to school. They were still there by the time I made my way home so I stopped and wiggled one of them free of the damp turf. With two hands holding it tightly, I took it to him! Asking PC Hibbs, “Is this one of them bombs you’re looking for?” A few weeks later, a torpedo landed in my neighbour’s garden. I crept into the garden past the air raid shelter, then the barrage air balloons, and the ack ack guns, then commando-crawled to within 8 feet of the torpedo. Lying under the hedgerow, I admired the awesome bomb with its golden bronze propeller raised six feet high; it had a large black and white cross on it, not a swastika.
“A torpedo in Portsmouth Harbour”
