Rating: Five out of five stars
When I was a child, my grandmother Renee, who remained in London throughout the Blitz with her baby daughter, my mum, told a story that made me understand some of the sheer terror of life during the air raids.
An apartment block near their home was hit. Amid the rubble next day, she saw a bathtub, with a woman’s body still lying in it. The sheer lack of dignity for that victim, as well as the random ruthlessness of the bombing, shocked me in a way I’ve never forgotten.
Tales like that, once familiar to post-war generations, are
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