Born on the eve of the second world war, living in the Midlands, I can remember being wakened as Coventry was being bombed. The early hours of D day seeing the sky filled with aircraft heading for Normandy, the roar of the engines making the windows rattle.
Spent five years in the RAF then drifted into the motor industry until retirement. Now living on the South Coast with a one tenth share of an ex fishing boat and trying to become a writer.
Roger Harvey decided to leave the crowded underground train at Balham station and take the bus the rest of the way to the old War Office in Whitehall. As he was exiting the train, a youth bumped into him, shoved a pink plastic carrier bag into his hand, and disappeared into the crowd. Just as Roger ...
