大象传媒

Sunday 24th. November 1940, the first great blitz on Bristol.

I was nearly five years? old at the time and living with my mother, father and younger sister in a second floor flat at No. 52, Park Street, adjacent to the city centre.
Although I was so young, I remember vividly most of the events of that night and the following day.
When the sirens sounded, I, my mother, sister and an aunt who was staying with us made our way to the cellar of the building, below the shop. My father was in the A.R.P. at Avonmouth, about twelve miles away (?). Mother refused to go down into the cellar itself, instead she insisted on us standing at the top, just inside the cellar door, a decision which almost certainly saved our lives. We were joined by the two ladies who lived in the flat above us, (I can?t remember if there was anyone else there from the other floor(s).
I don?t remember hearing the first H.E. bomb before it hit our building, perhaps I did, but did not comprehend what it meant. The next thing I remember was the taste and feel of what I thought at the time was coal dust, more probably stone dust in my mouth. It was totally dark and I could feel rubble all around and above me. Then I could hear someone say, ?We must shout for help? which we did but none came. I don?t think anyone appeared to panic, total shock I expect. It was suggested that one of us must get out and fetch help. Then another voice, I think it was my mother?s because I remember how calm she sounded, quite unlike her usual panicky self, suggest that they push me up as I was small and could climb through small spaces in the rubble. The adult, whose hand I was holding, must have helped move enough masonry for me to wriggle upwards because I found myself with my head and shoulders above the ruins. I saw in the light of the fire the disabled man from further down the street attempting to climb over what remained of the back wall. Then another H.E. bomb fell directly on the building and the remaining walls collapsed on top of us. I could hear my mother call to me, she sounded a long way underneath me but still very calm, wanting to know if I was alright. I can?t remember my reply or my emotions. We were told afterwards that we were buried for two and a half hours before we were dug out. I was not told what happened to that very brave man with one leg. As I was closer to the surface than the others I was lifted out first and handed to a sailor who took me down to the bottom of Park street to a flat above a very posh jewellers shop opposite College Green. I remember being covered in dirt and grit and refusing vehemently to be undressed and cleaned up! So brown paper was laid on a settee and I lay on that. I remember the sound the grit made on the paper whenever I moved. Next morning I was taken out by the young daughter of the family up and down Park street to see if anyone recognized me. I think it was the day after that a Mrs. Beecham, who worked at the Folk House with my parents, saw me and eventually I was reunited with my father, (my mother and sister had been taken to Bristol Royal Infirmary)
I think my father must have suffered the most. The fires and flames of the centre of Bristol burning could be seen from Avonmouth and of course he was not allowed to leave before his duty ended. He got back to Bristol the next morning to find his home gone and his eldest daughter missing.
Two or so days later the shop safe was recovered from the cellar. We were told that the coins inside were still red hot! If we had sheltered down there we would have been burnt alive.

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