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One bomb, weighing 110 pounds, fell through the roof of the Rialto Cinema, penetrated all the way to the basement dance floor of the Café de Paris, and exploded. It was nine-fifty P.M.
NO ONE IN THE CLUB heard the detonation, but everyone saw it and felt it: a bright flash; an extraordinary flash; a blue flash. Then a choking cloud of dust and cordite, and coal-black darkness. A saxophone player named David Williams was torn in two. One of the Dutch officers in Betty Baldwin’s party lost his fingers. Six guests at one table died with no sign of external injury, and remained seated. The headwaiter, Charles, was thrown from the balcony to the
floor, where he came to rest against a pillar on the other sid...
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Snakehips was dead, his head severed from his body.
In the night’s incident report, London civil defense authorities called it “the worst raid since early January.”