At the [1990] reunion, which I sadly missed, Mr David B. Clarke, the current Headmaster, suggested to the former pupils that they might like to consider recording their thoughts of that day fifty years ago. It is with respect and affection that I record mine.

As school is a preparatory phase for whatever follows I thought it relevant to include a comment on what happened to me afterwards - especially as it links current remembrances in Michigan, U.S.A.

Dennis Felce was my pal and we were usually to be found playing soldiers. If we saw a real one salutes were often exchanged. His Dad had a magic lantern and a small steam stationary engine which we were intrigued to play with from time to time. I was nearly nine and in Miss O'Connor's class Dennis was younger and in Miss Wright's. He was well loved but early that Thursday morning he had been up to something which had upset his Mother so he had gone to school without his usual kiss.

The weather was wet and misty so we would have gone straight into school. There would be an assembly taken by Mr Lawrence (Pop Lawrence), accompanied by, I think, Mrs Levy playing the piano and a small orchestra led by Mr Morris (Mickey Morris). If the singing was below standard Mr Lawrence would, bang the piano lid with his hymn book and we would stop, guilt ridden, with crest-fallen expressions and inaudible grumbles. After we reached a better standard he would make appropriate announcements and we would quietly file to our classrooms to begin the morning's lessons. Our room was down the steps, towards the girls' playground, next to that of Miss Wright. The school dentist had a room above hers and we occasionally had medical examinations up there.

Mid morning, a violent crump, as sudden as a clap of thunder punched the building from the left! Brown dust and smoke swirled across the room ire the right and the floor was suddenly an uneven hump. Desks were displaced and some of us were on the floor, the force lifted me arid I remember being inclined forward and to the right. The blast toppled over the cupboard near the door to the hall and escape to the right was urgent. Another crumpf a second or so later just outside in that direction checked tais impulse as the big windows shattered to cascade glass all over the floor and adjacent, desks.

Children rushed up the small stairway in the corner from Miss Wright'c room arid we all began to gravitate to the right. Instinct had preceded comprehension and although I was only eight my conditioning was such that I expected, there would be a proper way to make an exit to safety. I know that we were urged to get out quickly and to be careful and calm. Clearly we were all stunned.

The playground and one of the shelters had been blasted open to iorm a crater and a high bank of rubble. It was between us and another shelter. We climbed and scrambled, reached the shelter and sat down on the narrow benches inside to come to terms with what had happened. It then registered with us that we had been bombed by a German plane. (Many said later that had there been a warning siren children would have been in the destroyed shelter and there would have been more killed. However, other events might also have been different). My cousin, Margaret Parker, who was my age was nearby and shortly afterwards her brother David who was in the infants was brought along to join her in the shelter.

Parents gradually appeared and looked for their children to take them home. My Mum was in Woolworths with my little sister Jean at the time of the bombing. The shoppers lay on the floor for safety, it became evident that Alfred Street School had been hit so Mum took Jean into Hepworths where Marshall Waller our neighbour worked; she then retrieved me and took me home to Fitzwilliam Street. Dad worked for Dilks and Martin at the top of Victoria Road. When he heard that Alfred Street School had been bombed he hurtled towards Pungs Lane and bounded across the bombed fish shop crater rubble to get to Duck Street and the school. My uncle, who worked nearby at Corby's, collected Margaret and David from the shelter and escorted them to our house to wait for their mother who would doubtless pass by on her way to the school. For this reason they stayed in the front of the house so that they could look out for her.

Whenever the air raid siren sounded our response was to go next door to the Waller family where we usually had tea and made light of the situation. On this occasion we were in their living room, I think probably without tea, as main services had been affected. I remember the grown-ups

(discussing what had happened and there was talk of a stick of at least a dozen bombs dropped. Mrs Felce hurried in. "Had Peter seen Dennis?" she asked. This was probably the first time I had seer, another person suffering from acute anxiety and panic, I felt guilty and could only reply "no".

Margaret and David were taken home and people continued to discuss the effect of the bombing across the town. Their Dad had gone back to the front of the school and alongside others they helped the local cervices people to look for survivors. My Mum and others helped some of Marlow's factory workers to fortify these clearing up teams with tea and sandwiches. They learned that four workers had been killed and that one of them had to be eased down from a roof truss. There were also many casualties.

Gramp Harris was the part time gardener for Mr Claridge, at the bottom of Skinners Hill. He told us that the spot where he usually chopped logs of wood on Thursday mornings had been bombed but that morning he had been asked to do a job elsewhere. Grandma Jackson, who lived in Winchester Road had heard that Alfred Street School had been flattened. Bordering on shock, she came rushing down to see me to return to Winchester Road later, greatly relieved. Others checked with us too. The general bustle subsided as people began to understand, more and more about the extent of the damage.

In the evening I remember being told that Dennis and six other children had been killed and that they lay together in Moor Road School. Their parents had earlier identified them. I was so sad, and puzzled and kept thinking of Mrs Felce asking earlier if I had seen Dennis. I felt so sorry for his Mum and Dad and the trauma of the witheld kiss. That night upstairs, alone in my bedroom, I talked as if to an adult, asking why it had all happened. With great sorrow we sent Dennis a wreath with the inscription "Goodnight Little General". Later I was given his pyjama case. Mr Felce would always let me borrow Dennis's steam engine as I got older.

The Windmill Club Hall became our school, where classes were partitioned off with sliding curtains. For the scholarship year we moved to St Peter's (Mark's) Church Rooms. After the examination those who passed went to other schools and those of us who were unsuccessful returned to Alfred Street. I remember taking an entrance examination for Wellingborougn Junior Technical School later and failing that too. Later Mr Lawrence recommended me and two others for places in engineering at the Technical School which would have meant staying on until I was fifteen. I remember that I declined because I was keen on woodworking (in the future I taught engineering drawing from models I made from wood). Dad suggested that as my arithmetic was weak I should take woodwork and mathematics classes at night school in Newton Road Evening Institute. I attended there for two evenings each week and went to school during the day at the former Intermediate School. I left day school in December 1945 at the age of fourteen.

With Miss Hill in the "Infants", Mr Lawrence in the "juniors" and Mr Hewitt in the "Secondary" there was mutual respect between staff and pupils and parents were never excluded. Class sizes were well in excess of forty in number and teachers were dedicated to us. We probably became the vehicle for their war effort, to some extent. We certainly learned how to work and they encouraged us to find things out for ourselves. I did not want to leave and I remember us lining up in the hall at the Hayway School and me saying, "Thank you Sir" to Mr. Hewitt, the Headmaster, as he shook my hand and wished me well.

I now offer a contribution which is necessary for me, but which will take me beyond the original brief suggested by Mr Clarke, however it is related in that it concerns schools, my continuing education and coincidence.

I became a craftsman for Arthur Sanders for six years and gained professional qualifications in building together with the academic requirements of a teachers certificate.

Two years national service followed. I was in the infantry and up the front line in Korea for a year. One of the milder of the frequent nasty incidents reminded me of the Alfred Street School bombing. A Chinese armour piercing shell blew a hole through the corner of cur small two-man bunker near to my head, where my mate and I were resting one afternoon. He fell into the depression between us and I fell on top. We then streaked along the trench to the next bunker where other mates comforted us and gave us tea.

One of my anchors of hope out there was mail from my girlfriend and my family, who used to send me "The Listener". Another, a small beer crate containing a few books. "Harris's Library" they called it. It was set into the earth wall. When we returned later I saw that it had fallen out and jagged barbs of metal from the shell littered the bunker. As the months went on there were many casualties and several of my close friends were killed.

I became a civilian again, passed the education section of my teachers certificate, which included six months teaching practice and spsnt fifteen stimulating years in secondary education. I had continued to study and I became the head of the Mathematics Department in a large Coventry school. A year at college and further study resulted in a degree in mathematics, I was a mathematics and statistics lecturer and tutoi. in a large college of further education for nineteen years teaching "A" level students and helping them to enter higher education. I served for five years on the Academic Board, many associated committees and was for ten years secretary of the Mathematics Study Group until I retired last year at fifty-seven so that I could make a start on projects I had planned over the years.

It is with pride and gratitude that I pay tribute to Alfred Street School, its staff, fine children and the stimulation it gave me.

Finally! I enclose recent correspondence about Alfred Street School on the 3rd October 1940. This was sent to me by my elder daughter Janet who was at an American university for a time and who currently lives near Ann Arbor, Michigan. She saw a "Fifty Years" feature in the Ann Arbor News, remembered my talk about the school and the war and as the correspondence shows she has also made her contribution to the sentiments of the event. [this was not enclosed with the copy that we have used]

Peter Harris

17th November 1990