大象传媒

A NIGHT IN THE SHELTER
I was born in October 1934 in Tilbury Essex, and despite my being only 4 years old, I have vivid memories of the war to share, and am even now writing the story of my young life, and what follows is an extract from it. Now just imagine your part of our family, decide who you are going to be, Mum, Dad, Charlie age 8, myself Eddie age 7, or 2 year old Sylvia. It a cold winters night, and depending on who you are, your either fast asleep, or lying awake listening to the drone of aircraft engines afar off, and for distant sirens.
Trying to decide if this is one raid you can ignore, or will this be another night in the shelter.
Then the Local siren goes, search lights are on, and then the nearby Ack-Ack guns open up, it's time to go.
Dad get up, shakes Mum, and says "Come on girl" Mum gets up, puts on an old but warm coat, that covers her side of the bed, goes to the box room and picks up Sylvia, wraps her in a blanket, and carries her downstairs in to the now cold kitchen. She lights the gas ring to boils a ready filled kettle, meanwhile the guns are banging away, and aircraft drone overhead. As soon as Mum is on the stairs, dad is dressed, and carrying two pieces of blanket, goes into the boy鈥檚 room, and lift Eddie, out of bed, wraps him in a blanket, carries him out on to the landing, and places him all drowsey with sleep in a sitting position on the top of a chest-of-draws.
Eddie cocooned in the blanket, and still half asleep can only balance himself by pressing his heels against the front of the chest of draws, press to much, and he will pitch forward on to the hard lino floor, lean the other way, and he could fall down the stairs. The landing window has no black-out, and as the Ack Ack guns hammer away, each shell burst would shake the house, and light up the landing, throwing a shadow of the window on to the ceiling.
He then goes back for Charlie, wraps him up, and then returns with Charlie on one arm to the landing, and, scoops up, sleepy Eddie and runs down the stairs, all this is achieved with out putting a light on. Now all are gathered in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil, to fill two stone hot water bottles.
When all is ready, Dad gingerly opens the kitchen door, and listens at the "Gates of Hell" to judge the right moment to head for the shelter. At a suitable lull in the barrage Dad shouts "Right Go" and still holding the two boys kicks the kitchen door fully open, and Mum with the two filled stone hot water bottles, and Sylvia, launches herself into the night. A quick sprint to the shelter, the garden lit by shells bursting overhead, and sweeping searchlights.
The children go into the top bunks, with the hot water bottles, Mum in the lower bunk, pulls the damp blanket over her. Dad much to Mum's dismay, crouches in the porch of the shelter to see what's happening overhead. And each time it get to close for comfort, he slams the porch door shut.
What is worst, crouching in the porch watching, or lying in your bunk letting your imagination do the rest.
As you lay in your bunk, condensation drips from the metal ceiling of the shelter, and you listened to the sounds of the battle outside. This included the sound of 9mm cannon shell cases, and machine gun clips from spitfires overhead raining down, going ping ! on the slate roof of your house, what a harvest for someone in the morning. ! Eventually the barrage subsides, and only the distant sound of aircraft can be heard, now you must decide, will you stay put till dawn, or make your way back to a now freezing cold bedroom for what's left of the night Oh and yes, you will have to do it all again tomorrow night, and the next, in fact until Hitler and his hoards have beaten the RAF into submission, or give it up as a bad job.

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