大象传媒

My father leaned through the door of the cubby hole under the stairs; grabbed my hand and said 鈥楥ome on son, time is short鈥�. I was half way out when the air filled with dust and the front door started to move towards us slowly and perfectly upright. The door hit my father and he fell on top of me, both of us ending back in the cubby hole. We never heard the explosion.

The night had started as a perfect autumn evening; bright and cloudless, the moon full and shining and the clear air was crisp and fresh. Now the air stunk of stale, singed dust, similar to an old Hoover dust bag. After scrambling out of the cubby hole and putting out a fire in the parlour we made our way to our allocated shelter in the next street. The fire had been a small one; the cinders from the grate had been blown onto the carpet, and had presented no problem as there had been two large pans of water on the stove.

It was the night of November, 14th, 1940, the place was Coventry and I was 8 years and 9 months old. The air raid had started much earlier than usual, the sirens going off at approximately 7.00 p.m. Father went out to check and the street Warden told him; 鈥榞et Sarah and the kids in the shelter, this is a big one鈥�. We had an arrangement with the neighbours whose rear garden was opposite ours to go through their garden and house to reach the shelter. The gardens were divided by a tar macadam 鈥渆ntry鈥� which was wide enough for the coal delivery lorry.

My father had put me in the cubby hole whilst he took my mother and younger brother to the shelter. The bombs were falling quite close by this time and Mr. Duck, our neighbour, told him to fetch me and would ensure my mother and brother were safely escorted to the shelter.

The all clear sirens sounded at about 6.00 a.m. the next morning. During the night when there was a lull in the bombing my father took me outside to look at the devastation. We lived in the high part of Coventry and could clearly see the famous three spires in the city centre. This night all we could see was smoke, flames and a dull orange glow in the sky.

Next morning only two spires were visible through the smoke as I walked into the city with my father. We were looking for food; all we found was ruin and death.

James Spink

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.