What did Grandad do during the war?

I remembered my dad telling me about my grandad when he was in the army. Well on day when he was going back to his regiment on his push bike he noticed a strange noise coming from behind him and above when he noticed a V1 flying bomb flying in the same direction as he was. Then the motor cut out and the V1 started to fall. He then realised that the V1 was falling in the direction to the paraded ground where he knew that there was a exercise going on at that moment, so he peddled for his life to the camp to let the men there what was happening, He got there in time to save them and time to spare as well.

My mum used to pause when telling us the tale of Richard Whittington and his travels to London where he hoped to find the pavements 'lined with gold'. As children my brother and I would listen with eyes as wide as saucers as she recounted her memories of a journey to work one morning in Plymouth after yet another night of heavy bombing. She worked as a 'seamstress' sewing clothes in Berkatex and was worried about her prize possession - a fine pair of scissors which she had left at the factory. From other tales we were familiar with her description of the destruction that had been wreaked one more overnight - glass everywhere, smouldering fires and the shrapnel holes in dustbins 'as big as your head' . While describing how carefully she picked her way through the debris we would interrupt and ask for bits of the tale to be repeated as we felt the excitement build. However, at every telling we fell silent at the end, as she did that morning, awestruck! There, not yet cordoned off by the police, was the smouldering remains of a jewellery shop and where the searing heat had melted the metal was a gleaming pavement covered in a sheet of gold!