大象传媒

I can't remember what age I was. I know I had started school but they had all closed because of the bombing.
I remember hearing my mother say"There's a full moon tonight and it will be cloudy, I'd better prepare the shelter" It was dug half way into the ground with lots of earth on top, my father had planted flowers on it and it reminded me of a grave. They had flowers on them too!
When it got dark I was terrified. I was waiting for 'them' to come. I watched for the moon from behind the black out curtains and saw the clouds build up, not a lot of them but enough to hide the bombers and the moon was bright enough for for the bombers to see their target - me! I dreaded the time when we would hear the sound of the air raid warning and rush to the shelter. That short rush down the garden path to the bottom of the garden, the two steps down, then a turn to the left and another two steps down. The smell of the sacking on the bunk beds, the candles we used for lighting and seeing the ear-wigs scurry away. I still hate ear-wigs.
The cardboard box that my gas mask was in would bang against my legs as I ran to the shelter. Gas masks! The sheer dread of trying it on to make sure it still fit! I would scream in terror and my mother would be in tears as she forced it over my face, adjusting straps as quickly as possible before removing it again. I thought that I would suffocate while it was over my face and I wanted to vomit from the smell of rubber, the smell seemed to fill my nose and mouth until I thought I would choke from it.
My mother used to tell us stories of Ireland, they scared me almost as much as the thought of the bombers. The headless drummer boy, the field where you couldn't find your way out after dark and would wake up in the morning beside the gate and so it went on but all the time I listened for the sound of gun fire and the drone of the bombers. When they finally came it was almost a relief! We'd listen to the sound of the explosions getting closer, when the bombs fell really close then the shelter shook and the air was filled with thick choking dust. My mother would put a clean handkerchief over my nose and mouth to try to protect me but then my teeth would chatter with fear and she would tie the handkerchief under my chin and over my head in the hope that I wouldn't bite my tongue. Then there would be a lull and my mother would make a scramble to the kitchen to make hot drinks for us. I would be terrified in case the bombers came back as the 'all clear' hadn't sounded. I wanted to follow her but I was too terrified to move. My much older brothers and sister would try to comfort me but I was convinced a German soldier with a gun was waiting outside the shelter to shoot my mother. It never entered my very young mind to wonder how he would get there. If the bombs dropped very close then we would hear the crackle of the flames from the bombed buildings and I would wonder if our house was still standing. It always was though frequently without any glass in the windows.
At one time we hardly seemed to leave the shelter at all, it must have been during the London Blitz. My mother wasn't even five feet tall so how was she so brave? She was always singing and joking and cheering us on with her tales of Ireland. Why was she never frightened or did she just hide her fear from us? I was terrified if she was out of my sight for even one moment because I knew that I was safe all the time she was with me. I seemed to be in a constant state of fear during those years. I suppose every other child in London was too.
I remember waiting on the corner near my house for my brothers to return from school. I heard a 'plane approaching but there had been bo warning so I stood there to watch. The 'plane flew so low that I'm sure I could see the pilot and as he passed over head I heard the gunfire. He was mowing down the children as they came out of school! I thought the children were playing as they fell, some tried to crawl and I couldn't understand why they were leaving dark stains on the pavements. Then one of my brothers picked me up and ran with me, he pushed me into the coal cellar, for safety I suppose. I can't remember how or when I came out of there.
Sometimes an ARP Warden would appear at the school to give a talk. One day he showed us an item that looked like a miniature garden roller, I really liked it! He told us that if we ever found one we weren't to touch it but must inform our parents or the local ARP Warden. I remember searching and searching for one as I could imagine rolling it between the flowers on the shelter. I never found one, which I suppose is just as well.
Another time we were watching them dig the dead and injured from some locally bombed houses. My brothers weren't old enough to be conscripted so had to help dig out the dead and injured. Another child suggested that I look under some tarpaulen. I couldn't understand why the legs blown off were still wearing socks and shoes, why weren't they blown off too? Their trousers had gone but not their socks and shoes, and what happened to their arms? I only saw legs, I remember thinking that perhaps they put the legs in one place and the arms in another and what happened to their heads and bodies?

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