- Contributed by听
- Stockport Libraries
- People in story:听
- "BK"
- Location of story:听
- Manchester
- Article ID:听
- A2524745
- Contributed on:听
- 16 April 2004
This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of "BK" and has been added to the site with her permission. She fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.
My memories of World War 2 are numerous, but one I shall always remember is of the night of the Christmas Blitz in Manchester.
I was a girl of 16 years, and very reluctant to spend time in the public air raid shelters. My sister and I resolutely refused to enter into the dark and dismal place, so we sheltered in the hallway of our own house, where we could now and again venture into the kitchen for a cup of tea. My Mother would not leave us on our own, and my Father, being a member of the St. John Ambulance, was out helping with the rescue.
On this particular night, we did go into the shelter. From time to time we felt drops of water on face and hands, and put it down to condensation. The night seemed interminable.
The following day, an old lady, who lived near us, and who was my Father's Godmother, came to call. She earnestly told us that she knew we would be kept safe, as God was looking after us, as she was blessing us by sprinkling holy water over us all the time we were in the shleter. She had absolute faith in the powers of the holy water. As it happened, neither ourselves or the house came to any harm. Was it faith or good luck?
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