大象传媒

A Childs-eye View of World War II.

Born in 1938 I was a young child during the Second World War, and I remember much of it, particularly the air raids in Nottingham. It was always in the middle of the night when I was awakened by the sirens, their undulating wail was becoming a feature of my life, and I knew what to do. I would dress quickly in the dark, before my mother came in with her torch. We did not dare turn on the light in case it attracted the bombers. I helped with the younger children and Mother, with baby in her arms, shepherded us down the street to the air raid shelter. There was a blackout in force, and it was always pitch dark.
The shelter would be filling up with people, and was dimly lit by candles. People with overcoats buttoned over their nightwear sat on the wooden benches next to the walls. They always made room for us children. Some of the bunk beds were occupied by people sleeping, or trying to sleep. One man in particular always stood by the door, looking up at the night sky, giving a running commentary:
鈥淭here鈥檚 one coming over鈥�
鈥淚s it a Jerry?鈥�
鈥淲hich way鈥檚 it going?鈥�
鈥淚s it one of ours?鈥�
鈥淵ou鈥檇 better come in Bill, before it shoots you.鈥�
There was a power station nearby, and a royal ordnance factory at the bottom of the street. If that had been hit we would all have been blown to kingdom come! There would often be sing songs: 鈥淩oll out the Barrel鈥� and 鈥淩un Rabbit鈥�. I realize in retrospect that these were to raise flagging spirits. Morale was low not only because of the nightly raids but also the deprivation.
The air raid shelters were built with thick walls of brick, with roofs made of reinforced concrete, I cannot remember what the doors were made of. After the war these were demolished by a crane swinging a large heavy metal ball suspended from a cable. This was swung repeatedly at the walls, battering them until they gradually crumbled. I was often late for school through watching this performance.
I do not recall feeling frightened during the air raids, I must have been too young to realize or sense the danger. The only time I did feel frightened was when I saw tanks coming down our cobbled streets from the ordnance factory. They were huge, noisy, clanking monstrous things with big guns on the front. It must have been a thousand times worse for some of our allies for whom tanks contained enemy invaders who fired the guns.
We had been issued with gas masks. Mine was kept in a cardboard box in a cupboard. Baby had a large gas mask which he fitted completely inside. We also had ration books. I would often go shopping for Mother, and stand in queues. There were queues everywhere. The shopkeeper would cut coupons from the ration books with a large pair of scissors, and stick them on a sharp hook. One shop had a bacon slicer, which pared very thin slices, and quite fascinated me. Money would be placed in a container suspended from a cable, along which it whizzed to a cashier. The change would be sent back the same way. We had cod liver oil, orange juice, and National Dried Milk in large round tins. I also remember having dried egg powder which, when reconstituted, tasted absolutely vile.
One of my uncles, serving in the Royal Navy, came home on leave with some bananas, and I was lucky enough to be given one. I took it to school and one of the teachers, upon seeing it, descended upon me. She borrowed it and later came bursting into the class room brandishing it. 鈥淟ook children鈥�, she exclaimed, 鈥渢his is called a banana. We used to have them before the war!鈥� I think she took it to every classroom.
Then on VE Day we had street parties. Long trestle tables were arranged end to end in the street, covered in table cloths or clean sheets. Bunting was hung everywhere, and union jacks hung from all the upstairs windows. All kinds of goodies were served despite the rationing: jellies; custards; tinned fruit; pies; cakes and tarts, and for once we had full bellies. This time the wartime songs were sung with gusto!

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