Vengeance for the Luffwaffe

For the sixth time in as many nights the frustrated, vengeful Luftwaffe came over London. The raiders were few and fast.

One night the alert lasted only half an hour. But one heavy bomb plumbed into a crowded dance hall and milk-bar. When the dust of the blast had settled, the district all around looked to eyewitnesses "like a battlefield," recalled the horrors of the blitz and jarred Londoners out of their recent tendency to ignore air-raid alarms.

Within the skeleton walls of the dance hall lay a heap of debris. The roof had crashed upon the dancers. Fires licked over the ruins. Rescue squads fashioned a runway over plaster and planks and bodies to get out the mangled living and dead. Those who had stood at the milk-bar counter had been killed. Dead and injured sprawled in every neighboring doorway.

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