大象传媒

Turning at the garden gate, I waved cheerfully to my mother, standing on the front door step of our neat suburban house. "Goodby mummy, see you after school" I called. Mother returned the wave, smiling wearily after the events of the previous night. It had been exhausting scurrying to and from the shelter and the tiredness was etched on her face.

Skipping ahead of my twin brother, Peter, my brown hair was curled from being rolled in rags the previous night, bouncing about my neck, I tried to dismiss the disturbances of the night from my mind by looking up through the branches of the trees lining the quiet street. The leaves were beginning to burst and the delicate pink blossom of the cherry trees created a soft glow and scent. A gentle breeze rustled in the branches causing some of the petals to fall, like confetti, to the hard pavement, covering the cold grey slabs with a carpet of pink. Above, the blue sky encompassed the trees and the sun shone on the red tiled roofs of the houses.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the morning was shattered by the soaring, mournful wail of the siren. Gradually the air was filled with its loud, discordant note. Fear gripped my stomach and alarmingly my brown eyes looked up panic stricken at the sky half expecting to see bombs raining down upon my head. Relief surged through me as the sky remained clear and I quickly grabbed my brother Peter's hand as he came running up to me. We ran with painful gasps to the gates of our nearby school. "Come on, quick" we must get to the shelter" I gasped, "then we'll be safe."

Other children materialising from all directions converged upon the entrance to the school. Their shrill, excited chatter was punctuated with sobbing as we jostled through the iron gates. The constant lament of the warning was now joined by the sound of distant gunfire, reminding us of our danger.

Once inside the gates, order was quickly restored. The bell from the central green-domed tower was far more impelling than an air-raid warning! Teachers, custodians of authority, appeared to usher us into the playground. Quickly and efficiently we were mustered into groups, my brother and I still holding hands. Marching in double file we were led across the field to where the air raid shelter stood.

The Shelter was surrounded by trees and flowering shrubs as though it had no wish to be seen. In contrast to the red brick school building, it was built of grey concrete slabs grim and forbidding. I viewed it with suspicion. Sandbags were stacked uniformally around the walls, leaking their gritty contents on to the ground. Weeds struggled through the cracked concrete path. Narrow windows, set high, peered blankly down and I wondered how it could possibly be safe inside. The rectangular door at one end stood open to let the group of children enter and as I looked at the grey, rust-stained corrugated roof, rippling like a stormy ocean across the top of the walls, I wondered how it could possibly protect us from bombs. "I'm scared" said Peter, beginning to cry, "I want to go home". "It's alright, come on" I whispered, tightening my grip on his hand. We stepped together through the door, out of the sunlight. Descending into the darkness which engulfed us I felt as though a deep, bottomless pit awaited to gobble us up. Tears welled as fear engulfed me again and then as I felt Peter's hand tighten in mine in reassuring him I too felt reassured.

As the darkness became less black, the flickering light from candles could be seeen piercing the gloom, dotted around the room. Huge, ghostly shadows flickered on the roughtly built interior walls, exposing dried rivulets of cement dripping down the surface. In the deep recesses of the room a small child could be heard whimpering amongst the whispering children.

Clutching a grey blanket, edged with red stitching, we huddled together on the rough hard floor. Once again the sound of the siren penetrated our hiding place and a sea of white, frightened faces turned upward in unison, listening as the low groan of aircraft growing nearer. Silently, tensely, we crouched, waiting for the sound of an explosion, but the engine noise receeded and died away.

Quite unexpectedly, Miss Isaacs, the Headmistress, stood up, raising her voice: "Come along children, we must all have some favourite songs to sing". Erect and smiling encouragingly, she raised her arms to conduct. "We'll start with 'Ten Green Bottles Hanging on the Wall' she said authoritatively. Hesitatingly, tremulously, we children started to sing, the younger ones following the example of the older children, as Miss Isaacs beat time in the air like a musical conductor. Soon the shelter was filled with our high-pitched chanting as one familiar song followed another. The candles fluttered as though in response to our emerging vitality. The strain and fear in the white faces was replaced by sparkling eyes, hands and feet clapping and tapping in in time to the music. A glow of happiness tingled through me as I hugged my brother tightly. "Everything is alright now" I whispered to him as I tucked the blanket round him. He smiled up at me and snuggled down in the circle of my arm.

As the singing subsided, teachers moved amongst us, handing out small bottles of milk, complete with straws. The sound of clinking glass and blowing bubbles could be heard throughout the cavernous room, as well as a lot of giggling. "They haven't told us off this time" I laughed and continued to blow yet more bubbles, the waxy straw becoming soggy, bent and flattened.

At last another sound was heard, optimistically now, soaring above the roof of the shelter. "It's the all-clear" I said excitedly "we can all go home now". Shifting to my feet I pulled Peter up with me and moved to the group standing by the door. As it opened a white oblong of light made me blink as it illuminated the room.

Clambering up the wooden steps, tripping over the blanket, I stepped out into the fresh warm summer air. It was so lovely to feel the refreshing breeze on my face. Turning round to Peter I said "Come on, mummy will be waiting for us at the gates - let's run."

All the girls and boys rushed to be reunited with mothers standing anxiously waiting. Hugs and kisses were intermingled with shouts of laughter. I looked round for my mother, but she was not there.
Puzzled, I realised that mummy was probably feeding my baby brother, Gerald, as of course it was lunchtime. Snatching Peter's hand, half walking half running in my anxiety to get home, I kept repeating to myself "Of course she's there, of course she's there" in my head in time to my rapidly beating heart.

The pink petals still fluttered down from the trees, but debris and smoke, black and grey, was now intermingled with them. Torn red roofs gazed gapingly and blankly towards the hazy smoke-laden sky and the sun had lost its sparkle. A man in a navy blue uniform, brass buttons glistening, put out his hands to me and my brother, turning us away from the rubble.......

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