We had some close misses as far as shells and bombs are concerned, but the only casualties were a couple of scratches I received, when I was out picking up shrapnel in an areaway with the road up above. But not knowing there were any planes overhead I quite surprised to hear a plane diving quite close. So I dashed for a hallway because I was nearer to it than was to the door. But being used to planes diving just as and hearing heavy guns of some kind going off and thinking they were the bombs, I made a dash for the door, and the real bomb went off on the road just above, and a rain of glass fell on me (not mentioning some pieces of window frames although none hit me) and you should have seen me leap inside. And so we went through shot and shell, although Dad and Mr. Pommerenke probably got the worst of it because they worked up at the hospital filling sand bags, and wore A.R.P. helmets.
And I was glad I didn't have to go through any more fighting Christmas day because probably I had eaten something that upset me, and had a trifle of a fever. But almost everybody had bad digestion on account of the fighting.