大象传媒

The most momentous year of my life began in 1940. I was 9 years old and entering the scholarship stakes at the local primary school. Life was smooth except for the construction of Anderson shelters, over which there was great competition. The deeper the hole the better, the more earth on top, the better, and the most flowers planted, the better! Next door one had a concrete slab over the door supporting a hanging basket. Each doorway of the house boasted bags of pepper, fire irons and an assortment of knives. My grandmothers reply to the threat of invasion by the Germans.

Testing time for the Anderson shelter came on the night of 12th Dec. 1940, cold bright moonlight. Sirens sounded at 7 pm. Granma, Grandad, mum and I rushed in to the shelter, complete with attache case containing insurance documents and various family heirlooms. Incendiary bombs began to rain down. Grandad went out to attempt to extinguish them. Too many for his stirrup pump. Back to shelter. He announced it was our turn tonight. We got as far as "Hallowed be thy name" when it happened. They do say one does not hear the whistle of the bomb meant for you, but you do.

The next thing I remember was being pushed out of the doorway by mother and pulled across a blazing heap of rubble, into next doors re-inforced cellar. There we found the owner clutching two silk cushions, one pink, one green. The only possession she had left.

Rival Anderson shelter owner of hanging basket fame, was nursing a bloody nose, where the concrete slab had hit him, when he put his nose out of the shelter door as the bomb dropped. My grandmother, said it was retribution for his pride in his handiwork.

When the cellar began to shake, we rushed across the road to the public shelters. Shrapnel from the Ack-Ack guns in the local park rained down on us. In the shelter people gathered on wooden forms. Toilets were dustbins with lids. Sacking covered the doorways. The smell of gas, people, explosives and death was overpowering and everyone was covered in soot and grime and blood.

Ambulance and ARP tried to pursuade my mother that I needed treatment. But she wouldn't let me go. Luckily, she was right, the ambulance didn't make it to the local hospital. My dad who had been at work on fire watch duties turned the corner of our road at 3 o'clock in the morning, saw the block of houses where we had lived a mass of flames. The ARP warden was able to direct him to the shelter where we were obviously safe, much to his relief. The all clear went at 4 am. We emerged into a frosty clear half light, illuminated by the glow of many fires.

We managed to be accomodated in the local school for a few days, until relatives were able to transport us into the suburb, where they found us a house, furniture and replaced what we lost. Together with a grant from the government of 拢50 for replacement of lost items. My loss were important, my bike , all the christmas presents and the happy life I had once enjoyed.

Good News, after no formal education, until the following August, I passed my 11+

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