大象传媒

We didn鈥檛 always rush to the shelter when the sirens wailed their warning. On cold nights it was difficult to drag oneself out of a warm comfy bed. I鈥檇 often lay awake listening to that very distinctive thrum-thrum, thrum-thrum, of the Luftwaffe engines flying overhead, and wonder about the pilots high above us, looking down to try and see some glimmer of light. What did they feel like? They were only young men like our RAF boys. Were they scared? Were they longing to get this trip over with so they could fly back home to safety? 1940. I was a fourteen-year-old girl, and RAF pilots were my heroes.

We鈥檇 hear the first bombs come down, BOOM-BOOM-CRUMP, and try to work out how near they were. Were they bombing Birmingham? Were they getting nearer? Maybe we should go downstairs and get in the shelter? We had a Morrison shelter indoors - like a big strong metal table - just big enough for my Mum, Dad, our dog and cat, and me, to huddle in. Some of our neighbours had Anderson shelters in their gardens, but our backyard wasn鈥檛 big enough. I was glad. I would have hated to get down below ground under those curved arches of corrugated iron. They always seemed so damp and smelly.
We had three young soldiers billeted on us. They had to turn out on duty when there was a raid. There wasn鈥檛 room for them in our shelter, anyway, though it might have been fun.

One November night the sirens sounded their fluctuating warning, and before any of us had got up, there was a loud rapping at the front door. Dad went down, and opened the door to an agitated Air Raid Warden.
鈥淕et dressed! Put on your warmest clothes. Take any valuables! And walk very quietly past the Council House and into the Park. No noise - no talking! There鈥檚 a bloody great landmine dangling from the telephone wires! Just a few inches from the ground. If it goes off, we鈥檒l all be gonners. Hurry now! But quietly!鈥� The Warden鈥檚 voice was shaking. I could hear them rapping on doors all up the road.

We did as we were told. Put the dog on her lead, and the cat zipped into a bag. Mum grabbed her handbag with ration books, identity cards, cash, and insurance policy, always kept at the ready for emergencies. We wrapped woolly scarves around our heads and necks, and pulled on gloves. It was a cold, frosty night. The three of us, and our three soldiers, tiptoed outside and joined the throng of silent people in our road, being led away to safety.

As we edged gently past the Council House we could see it. A giant thing with a vicious pointed snout, dangling from its parachute cords which were caught precariously in the wires above. It swayed gently a few inches above the road. The collapsed parachute draped gracefully right down to the ground; the white silk glistening in the moonlight. Our three soldier boys went forward quietly to help the Home Guards usher the crowds of people slowly and noiselessly past The hush was eerie. Mothers were shushing their children. We all realised that one false move could detonate the monster, and kill us all.
We were led into Victoria Park. The grass was frosty, and the branches of the trees stark silhouettes against the moonlit sky. Searchlights swept bright beams across the darkness, underlighting the clouds and trying to find the planes. The Ack Ack guns were doing their best to shoot them down. Hundreds of people were trudging along like refugees, across the park to the other side, where a school had been opened, and where the WVS were already laying out mattresses on the wooden floors, and making big canteens of tea. Though we were well away from the danger we were all still strangely quiet. We spoke only in whispers.

The rest of the night was spent uncomfortably trying to rest on lumpy mattresses on the floor of the school hall, listening to hordes of people coughing, snoring, and grumbling. Children were crying. I found it impossible to sleep. It was the first time in my life I had ever been in close contact to such a mass of humanity, and I found it revolting. It offended my teenage sense of propriety. The smell of sweaty bodies was overpowering. Trixie, our dog snuggled up close to us, ignoring the inquisitive presence of other dogs, and even Timmy, the cat, was contented once we opened the bag enough for him to put his head out. They were bewildered, but seemed to understand they were safe with us.

As the restless, endless night wore on, we heard many loud explosions. Someone said the landmine had gone off. If that was true then many streets would have been flattened and we would have no house to go back to. I began to realise just what it would mean. We had nothing except the few things we had brought with us; no change of clothes; none of our belongings; no home. I became more and more anxious. It was a long, dark night.

We heard the aeroplanes thrumming overhead, flying back to Germany. The 鈥淎ll Clear鈥� sounded its long-drawn-out wail. Dawn came at last, and as the blackout frames were being taken down from the high windows, the news came through officially that the landmine had been safely defused, and we could all go back home.

It was a jubilant crowd that made their way back through Victoria Park, past the Council House and the harmless landmine still hanging from the wires. Many thankful prayers were said as we walked by. Soon after we arrived home and were making a pot of tea, the British panacea, our soldier boys arrived. They had been up all night helping the Bomb Disposal Unit. As they took their uniform coats off, one of them produced a few yards of shiny white silk from under his tunic.
鈥淚 cut it from the parachute. Thought it鈥檇 make up into a wedding dress for my girl friend,鈥� he said, grinning.

We all sat in shocked silence. He had risked, not only his own life, but the destruction of many streets of houses, and the lives of the many brave men and women of the Emergency Services, who had worked all night to make the landmine safe. What an idiot! I wondered if his bride would realise the price of her wedding dress? I think we were all too traumatised to say anything to him at the time, but I realise now it was the closest I came to death in the war. We鈥檒l never know if that bride and groom lived 鈥渉appily ever after?鈥�

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