I didn't mind working that particular Saturday because it wasn't a "beach day." (I frequently went to the beach during the summer to keep my "Brighton Beach Tan.") It was nearing 10 a.m., and I was in the stockroom with my co-worker Grace, while some of the skeleton crew was downstairs having a coffee break. I was peacefully standing at the file cabinet, disappointed that the pea-soup fog blocked our view, when suddenly there was an enormous explosion like we had been bombed!
I was thrown across the room with great impact. Grace went sailing across the room in her steno chair, smashing against the wall while I crashed into her desk, unable to stop myself. I hurt my arm, but got up to help Grace back to her wheeling chair. She had hurt her knee. I felt sorry for her since her husband was expected on a troop ship arriving that day and she wanted to be in perfect condition for him.
Joan, who had been working in the next room, came flying into my office absolutely hysterical.
"What kind of a job did you get me here?" she said. "What happened?"
Nobody knew.
All of a sudden the skeleton crew ran into our office; some of the ladies were frantically screaming
"It's the German Buzz Bomb!" yelled Sarah, who was usually calm. "They tricked us. They didn't really surrender!"
the landing gear, went through the building,
tearing a hole 18 by 20 feet
Another lady screamed that it was Martians.
"We're being invaded," she yelled. "I just know it. We're not getting out of here alive!"
Joan's boss, Hazel, a short, rotund sweet-faced redhead, was calmly sitting in front of her Danish pastry and coffee. She was still on her break and had just returned from the first floor coffee shop.
"Come on Haze," I yelled. "Let's go. We've just been given orders to vacate the building!"
"I'm just going to sit here at my desk and enjoy my delicious Danish
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