大象传媒

One Sunday morning in September 1939, when I was nearly ten years old, the Second World War started.It was announced on the wireless at 11.00am. I did not hear it because I was on my way to visit my Granny, pushing my little sister in her push chair as usual. Granny always welcomed us with lemonade and cake. There were little surprises waiting in the sideboard drawer, new hair ribbons or a puzzle to take home with us.
I had to walk down one longish road and then cross the corner of a little green where sometimes we stopped for a ride on the swings. Halfway down that road it dawned on me that no one was about. Not a single solitary person was to be seen. No one was in the garden. No one was leaning on the gate. Nobody was cycling by. No children skipped. Everything was silent and stilled. I know now that they were all listening to Mr. Chamberlain on the radio, I only knew something was wrong.
Then high over the River Tees the big silver barrage balloons rose up on their cable and at the same time the sirens began that awful wailing rise and fall. Around the bend of the road came the familiar sight of the milkman pushing his barrow. Instead of his usual cheery smile he yelled at me 'get away home - the Germans are coming.' Fear rose in me, I fled to my grandmother's, past the deserted swings. We would be safe there. But I had hardly rattled the knocker when the door flew open. My grandmother stood there, dishevelled, red eyed with her hair unplaited about her shoulders. She waved her arm angrily 'The war has started' she cried angrily, 'go home at once.' With that she shut the door in my face. I cannot remember going home but I shall remember that feeling of terror always. The shock of learning that even kind grown-ups were not reliable when a war started did soften in time.
My poor grandmother was killed later when a land mine on a parachute floated down on her little house instead of the Tees Bridge. But the threat and horror of war affected me and I was altered by the experience for ever.

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