- Contributed by听
- adottie1
- People in story:听
- Dorothy
- Location of story:听
- Merseyside
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A4699461
- Contributed on:听
- 03 August 2005
When I was about four years old we lived in a quiet cul-de-sac in Seacombe, on the opposite side of the River Mersey from the docks in Liverpool. These of course were a major target for bombing raids during the war.
There was a row of shops at the end of the road which included a Chinese Laundry which was owned by a young couple who had a little girl of about the same age as myself. Being an outgoing child I had often made overtures of friendship towards this little girl, but she was a shy little thing and would never move very far away from her mother.
I remember one particular evening just after tea-time the sirens sounded the alarm and my mother bundled us up in warm clothes and took us to the air-raid shelter. This was a big communal building of brick and concrete which had been erected in the middle of the road where we lived.
My father had already left the house for his regular post as an Air Raid Warden.
When the bombs fell we all heard and felt the effects of the explosion, so we knew it had been very close, but no-one realised just how close until the all-clear sounded and we all emerged from the shelter. There was a scene of utter devastation at the end of the street, the whole row of shops and the two corner houses had been totally demolished, fire fighters were rushing around trying to extinguish the fires and the air was full of smoke. Of course my mother wouldn鈥檛 allow us to stand and watch, she rushed us straight into our own house and up to bed.
The next morning I wandered downstairs in my pyjamas to find my Dad sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands, his face was dirty and he smelled of smoke. I went over to him and the next thing I knew he was holding me very tight and sobbing as though his heart would break. I didn鈥檛 understand what was going on so when my mother came running in and told me to go upstairs I went without a protest. As I was going through the door I heard my Dad say 鈥淲e found the little Chinese girl in the rubble鈥.
At the time this meant nothing to me and it was many years later before I fully understood what an awful trauma my Dad had been through on that night and how relieved he must have been to see his own precious girls were safe and well.
It was the only time in my life that I ever saw my Dad cry 鈥 how sad that it should have been for a little girl who was an innocent casualty of war.
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