大象传媒

I was born Joan Dumigan in May 1935, one of 5 children (3 brothers, 9, 11 and 13 years older than me, and a sister 3 years younger). We lived in a big house in Cromwell Road, with a large cellar and garden and a drive leading round to the garage at the rear.

When war broke out I can remember my baby sister Margaret screaming when my mother tried to coax her gently into the enormous cylinder, which I think now was shaped like a huge grenade with a window on the side - which was supposed to protect her from gas attacks! It was bad enough for me trying on my own gas mask. Luckily they were only ever used in safety drills!

In December 1940 warnings began to be received about probable air attacks over Manchester and we used to have our beds in the cellar. I can remember everywhere down there was whitewashed and there was a fireplace in which coal fires were lit each evening.

On this particular night, around 23 December, we were all down in the cellar when the airraid syren went. No one slept because the noise of the bombers and ack-ack guns was deafening. We would listen for the screech of the bombs, then the silence and then the thud of the explosion. My parents, particularly my father, could recognise the aircraft (Dad was an aircraft inspector with A V Roe's at Chadderton and worked on the Lancaster and later the Vulcan planes). They would say: "That's one of ours" or "Look out, that's a jerry plane".

It must have been around midnight when the bomb landed at the rear of the house. I recall the large stone paving slabs on the floor being pushed up at an angle and lots of dust and smoke. Then an ARP man, one of our neighbours, appeared having come down the cellar steps via the front door which had fallen off its hinges. We all had to get out quickly. My mother took my little sister and one of my brothers across the road to a friend's house and the ARP man carried me along the front garden wall and hedgerow to a brick airraid shelter. It was a terrifying experience I remember - the sky was all orange and red, with flashing searchlights, gunfire and incendiary bombs falling all round us. However we made it safely and stayed there until the "All Clear" went just after dawn. We then joined my mother and sister across the road and I recall them all laughing as they said I looked just like a "little piccaninny" (Of course that would be unheard of these days!)

That was definitely my night to remember, but I do have the report of a local ARP man on the incident.

As an appendix - I said it was just before Christmas. Well just to point out that some people are just as unscrupulous in wartime as in peace - by the time my parents were able to return to the house next morning they discovered we had been burgled! All the Christmas presents for us children and also some valuables had been stolen!!!

To remember something with a wry smile, though - in 1942 Stretford held its usual Pageant - a very big affair with floats, bands, morris dancers and 3 Rose Queens plus retinues from the 3 local districts. My sister then aged 4 was a trainbearer to a Mildred Appleton, the Stretford Rose Queen for that year. The Queens all wore beautiful white satin dresses with long velvet cloaks. They all carried bouquets of flowers and that year Mildred carried also a white silk gasmask case - which was on all the photos but sadly I don't have any now.

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