大象传媒

(Continued from 鈥淐oventry Blitz 1鈥�). The 鈥渁ll clear鈥� sounded about 3 o鈥檆lock in the morning and we trooped out of the shelter, wondering what horrors we might find outside. I felt very tired and distraught, but not too tired to notice the huge crater a few yards from the entrance to the shelter, which hadn鈥檛 been there before, and the acrid smell of burning which permeated the night air.

After a sound sleep, I woke next morning about 10 o鈥檆lock. Dad had gone off to work, but May, having seen the blazing inferno that was Car Bodies, had decided, along with Marcel, that it would be a waste of time to turn up for work. So, after having something to eat, we made our way into town to see what provisions we could buy. Passing Radford Common, what we had lived through the night before became hideously apparent. The school I had hoped to attend was no more than a smoking shell. A garage, which had stood on the opposite corner, had disappeared. There were craters of various sizes everywhere, one of which had an ambulance hanging precipitously on its wall. The streets were littered with debris, while gangs of A.R.P. wardens and workmen were busy searching among the rubble of devastated buildings for whatever was buried there.

One building in particular is still vivid in my memory. The remains of one wall standing starkly above a heap of smoking debris and the upper storey, once a bedroom, where one blue and one red child鈥檚 dressing gown hung ominously on the firmly closed door. Woolworth鈥檚, still bearing the scars from the earlier blitz, was roofless, with a canvas awning serving instead; market stalls in place of counters. Here we managed to buy two packets of salty biscuits, which May and I soon finished off.

Nearby, another relic of the earlier blitz; a huge patch of flat open ground where streets had been, the only prominences two drunken signposts proclaiming their raison d鈥檈tre, like some bad joke; 鈥淟ittle park鈥� and 鈥淢uch park鈥�. The rest of the day is a blur, but in the evening it was decided that we would get away from it all. Word had it that, out towards Shirley, there was a church which opened its doors to refugees of the blitz. So, before the certainty of the sirens, both families, ourselves and the Thomases, set off on foot out Radford Road. We were not alone but part of a great exodus, hundreds of people heading in the same direction, mostly on foot. However, I did notice a young couple on a tandem, with their infant in a sidecar-like pram slung alongside. Now there鈥檚 someone with skill and imagination, I thought; what a wonderful and clever idea.

We hadn鈥檛 been on the road long when darkness fell and we heard the expected sirens. We had reached open country when we saw searchlights sweeping across the sky and anti-aircraft guns nearby opened up. Then, all at once, we spotted the tracers; heard the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire and all but Mrs Thomas dived into a ditch. She panicked and ran hysterically up the road. Mr Thomas ran after her and brought her back to the relative safety of the ditch. Jerry had decided to open up with machine guns on the ack-ack and searchlights and we were in the line of fire.

Then, after a quick dash from the ditch, we found the sanctuary of the country church. A traditional old English country church with high pillars, stone walls and floor, it was already fairly full 鈥� and very cold. We sat there shivering all night awaiting the distant sound of the 鈥淎ll clear鈥�, precursor of the long walk home.

Next day, Thursday, was almost a repeat of the previous two days, except that food seemed even more scarce. Birmingham had been hit again the previous night and it was the source of quite a lot of Coventry鈥檚 provisions. Hence the scarcity. Most of the butchers remained closed but in a local area we found one that was open. The display area of his shop window was the focal point for his trade for that day. - a huge mound of liver sausages! This was the only item he had for sale produced from his entire stock of meat. Mum bought some and they were the mainstay of our evening meal.

After the horrors of the previous night, Mum and Dad decided that the local air-raid shelter was just as safe and slightly warmer a prospect and didn鈥檛 entail the long walk, so it was back to Radford Common again that night for what was to prove another lengthy spell of bombing, though I have no particular memory of it. Perhaps I was able to sleep a little.

Next day, we discovered we had no water in the house. A water main had been severed by a bomb. I was given the task of going with a bucket to the fountain gushing from the severed pipe down a crater in a nearby street. That day, Dad made a big decision. We were going home to Dundee and he was coming with us. This decision was due to the fact that, his workplace having been put out of action temporarily, he and several others were meantime redundant.

However, there was a problem. The centre of Coventry was roped off due to unexploded bombs and nobody was allowed inside the cordon. That meant we couldn鈥檛 use the railway station, which was within the cordon. So some alternative had to be sought. I assume it was Dad who made enquiries but the alternative was to get a bus to Bedworth and once there, get another bus to Nuneaton. The buses were limited but it was possible to get to Nuneaton by about 8pm. Once there, we鈥檇 be able to catch a train coming from Rugby, which stopped at Nuneaton about 10pm.

So that was the planned itinerary. We would have to get the Bedworth bus about 5.30 or so, in order to make the necessary connections. We would need sandwiches for the journey, which would take about 10 hours from Rugby. There was no bread in the house and enquiries with the local grocer confirmed that there was none to be had. What were we going to do?

Then Mum had a flash of inspiration. What about the Queen鈥檚 Messengers or QM鈥檚 as they were called? These were vans fitted out like hamburger stalls, which sat at strategic places to supply tea, sandwiches etc to the bomb disposal teams; demolition gangs and anyone else who wished. There was one of those QM鈥檚 down at Radford Road junction, so I was dispatched to the relevant site where, sure enough, I found the van surrounded by tired-looking rescue teams.

When I asked for 24 slices of bread, I was greeted with laughter from the gathering and a joke about being very hungry. The salesman looked at the pile of bread on his counter and handed it to me, thinking he was giving me a bargain. However, when I got home we found there were only 22 thin slices of pan bread with a scraping of wartime margarine. But accepting what we had, this, along with some lemonade, would be our meagre repast for the journey home. We duly caught the bus to Bedworth, changing at the Red Lion as instructed, then by way of a second bus to Nuneaton. Once there, we still had more than two hours to wait before our train was due. As luck would have it there was a fairground nearby with a carnival in full swing. So, depositing our cases in the station left luggage office, we managed to kill most of the time wandering around the funfair.

The rest of the journey is a complete blank, except for wakening up as we were crossing the railway bridge over the Tay at Perth about 7 o鈥檆lock next morning. Finally, home again and back to Dens Road School, where I had many exciting stories to tell my teacher and the rest of the class.

Incendiary
I stared with fascination in my eyes;
A childish gaze of half-bewilderment,
Upon the bright cascade of sparks and flame
Which lit the tiny garden of the house.
As crouching by the partly-open door,
I voiced a cry of wonderment and awe,
But safety-conscious parent looked and saw
The same display and threw me to the floor
Behind his aegis frame, that he might douse
The source of danger with unhindered aim.
At length the raiders left, their anger spent,
But still the ghastly beauty filled the skies.

Walter Blacklaw via Dundee Central Library

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