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Thursday, November 14, 1940 was like any other wartime day in Coventry. This. It was early closing Day for shops, and my father was looking forward to a sleep during the afternoon. Having lost sleep on previous nights due to the air raids.
Part of his package of employment was we occupied brand-new house in Cheylesmore, next to open fields it was the first house. I had ever lived in, previous to this. We always occupied the flat above a shoe shop, where my father was manager.
My mother had completed making green curtains, and she and anticipated my father would help to hang them. That afternoon, on his way home my father purchased a smoked haddock. We had no refrigerator; so it was put on the kitchen shelf.
I went to school. Likewise my seven-year-old brother at about 7:30, the sirens rang out, as was our habit we wore our nightclothes under our outer clothes. We took our usual positions under the dining room table, which was against the party wall (the house was semidetached). We sat on cushions and an old mattress. We were in the back ground floor room, which directly overlooks the fields. That night was starry and moon lit, and the frost was rapidly forming. We were aware it was more noisy night than usual, and after about an hour it was apparent that an antiaircraft gun had been placed at the side of our house. The vibration set the precious glassware and we had on top of sideboard, quivering. We sat with Dry mouths, hardly daring to speak above a whisper. Suddenly there was an almighty Whoosh, followed by the sound of falling masonry, brickwork and glass and from our position. We were looking up to the starry sky.
My mother was first to speak, she called us by name I was aware that my father was to the left of me was groaning I cried out ‘God help us’ to which my mother replied ‘he will’.
Cautiously we climbed over the brickwork and furniture and a broken home, until we were outside. We helped my father who had an injured head and made our way to a nearby surface shelter. This was of a simple brickwork construction, which we all claimed would never offer us safety. There was a bench around the inner perimeter, which was already well occupied. But somehow we managed to squeeze in my father was taken away after about an hour, in two weeks we had no idea of his whereabouts.
At about 6:00 AM we all started moving about. We most reluctantly went to view our home a white nylon parachute was wrapped round the remains of our front gate. We had been hit by parachute mine days later neighbours offered the pieces to keep as a souvenir. We declined to accept, stepping over the ruins. we were aware that nothing of value could be salvaged . However, my mother did find her handbag in which they was a little money and a front door key. She also had the address of a friend of my fathers who had, offered us refuge. If were ever in need, this house was located in Kenilworth.
After a hot mug of tea given to us by some voluntary organisation. We set out to walk to the city centre. We were covered in dust and grime, but we hoped we could get transport to Kenilworth, after visiting hospitals, where we hoped we would find my father. Little did we know what lay ahead?
There was no transport available. The cathedral and the city centre was still burning. We managed to scour the corridors and wards of one hospital without success. The sight of the dying and the injured will remain with me forever.
So covered in filth and empty stomachs, troubling as we walk to Kenilworth our hostess was not too pleased to see us as she was shortly due to give birth. But humanity prevailed, and she fed us and gave us somewhere to sleep.
Pattern of our lives the next 10 days was to visit Coventry each morning. Turn over the rubble of what was left of our home, to see if anything could be salvaged and visit hospitals. We were supplied with clothes and numerous forms, which we had to sign. To enable us to purchase, the necessities of life,
Due to our hostess condition. We were moved to a cottage, which was vacant on the outskirts of Kenilworth. Part of the tenancy agreement was that we had to feed 40 chickens who were free to roam in the surrounding woods. Each weekend, the landlord collected the eggs.
I return to school in Coventry, and my brother went to a local school. We had lessons in the air raid shelters. Most of the time, and travelling was not very easy. My father was discharged from hospital on Christmas Eve. He had suffered concussion, cuts and bruises and a broken finger.
April 941 we returned to Coventry to live in rented accommodation. My father’s shop had been destroyed, but the vacant one was found.
Easter 1941 there was a bad air raid luckily we escaped any damage. We were allowed to purchase utility furniture, which was part paid for by the government. I left school in 1944 and joined the staff of the Coventry city libraries. The central branch had been destroyed and chaos prevailed. However I studied for library association exams in my own time, and at my own expense, and finally became a chartered librarian.
We survived but now at 75. I am the only family member left. I sometimes wonder what happened to the smoked haddock!
Bibliography reference: - Air raid (Coventry 1940), shearing account of the bombing raid that made history by Norman. Longmate
Publisher-Hutchinson, 1976

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