大象传媒

This story is taken from an interview with Chrissie Wilsher, and has been added to the site with their permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions. The interview was by Deirdre Donnelly, and transcription was by Bruce Logan.
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Easter Tuesday night 1941 was the same as any other night during the war. Sirens went, and you just froze.

The siren went as usual, as it did every night.
Dad put on his big black coat tin ARP hat, and went to open the RBL hall in Conal Lane to make tea.
Mother rushed the children to the front bedroom.

My brother Daniel, 16yo, said 鈥淭hat鈥檚 a German plane鈥�.
There was an unmerciful bang.
The windows were blown in, soot came down chimney. Mother carried my brother down stairs, her ears deafened. The Iron-frame window was twisted, with no glass.

Father entered the house. He had been thrown against Johnny Horner鈥檚 house. The tin hat stopped his brains getting smashed out.

A Neighbour, Miss Kilgore, put her hand through the twisted metal window and handed mother a tin of condensed milk. The lid was turned up.
I could never bear the taste of condensed milk again, because it brought back too many memories.

I got myself dressed. I went to front door, and walked out to see where the bang came from. I couldn鈥檛 see any damage, it was behind the trees. I turned and returned up the garden, and saw a Doll-like head lying in clay. I lifted and cleaned it 鈥� it was a 鈥淐hild of Prague鈥� statue.
I saw Aunt Maggy from Waterside and 2 daughters coming up the road. 鈥淲here鈥檚 your mother?鈥�
The 2 women kissed and hugged, v glad to see each other.

I went to other side of park. There was Deadly silence. A white ribbon around houses, and a big pool of water where my friend鈥檚 house used to be. The sofa from the Murray鈥檚 house floated in it. A Man in black hat and uniform coat shoo鈥檇 me away.
Would I ever see my friends again?

The Murrays had moved into Number 59, Messines Park

There was a story that Evelyn Murray, the eldest daughter and only survivor of the family, was at a dance, wasn鈥檛 in the house that night. Chrissie met her again in 1999.
鈥淲here were you that night?鈥�
鈥淚n the house with all my family. My parents were going to go to the Fheis, but we couldn鈥檛 get tickets. It was my turn to clean the shoes. They were all lined across the fireplace. When the siren went I heard the plane. My father said 鈥淚 think that鈥檚 a German plane鈥� 鈥� and I never saw him again. Silence, then an unmerciful bang. I felt a weight across my legs, so I called to my sister Joyce 鈥淭here鈥檚 something lying across me.鈥�
When I looked at the heap of rubble that was once the Murrays house 鈥� And that row of 4 houses.
A few days before I was sitting their settee, reading comics with all the young family. I was devastated. I never got over it. For years when I was growing up, it took them that long to rebuild it, every time I went past it was a reminder. When I visit my parents鈥� grave I always leave a flower on the Murrays and Richmonds鈥� graves as well.

..............
My aunt lived in the USA so all during the war we would get parcels from America full of clothes, shoes and even tea bags which were a total novelty in those days.All my friends envied me with sandals from USA.

Of course we had our Sunday trip over the border to get butter. When you got it back it was all melted. You had it up your jumper or whatever. We were v fortunate. Aunt had 5lb bags of sugar. We had boxes of tea sent from the States.

Comics from USA 鈥�
The one the size of the journal had Popeye on the front. But the smaller ones had Dick Tracy. And we had them coming for years. We shared them with neighbours, and ended up without any.
We were putting carpet on the stairs, and under the liner my mother had used American comics.

They sent anything like bedspreads, drapes 鈥� mother cut them in half to fit our windows. Every year I would have got a doll. A big doll. Mother gave it to me before Xmas 鈥� no such thing as 鈥渒eeping it for Santa鈥�.

One of my aunts worked in a hotel in NYC, so it was convenient for her to send them to us. Uncle Charlie sent US comics to us every month until he died in the 1960s.

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