大象传媒

I'm the youngest of five children and when the war started in Liverpool, 1939 we were evacuated. The three eldest of my family were evacuated to Weaverham, where they stayed till the war ended. Whilst for around two years, my eldest brother, mum and myself evacuated to a dairy farm in Middlewich. However, we chose to return to our home in Liverpool before the end of the war, unbeknownst to us; Field Marshall Sperrie had Merseyside in his sights and the infamous 1941 May Blitz was about to begin.
The war was a time of 'make do' and for many a night, a storage depot in L8's Caryl Street, would provide cover as an air-raid shelter. When the sirens sounded, people from all areas would gather, huddling in the cramped conditions; not an enticing prospect, being only around two years of age.
The whole experience, for me was intensified by the fact that I was only a small child, lost in an epic war; its huge artillery and monstrous German aircraft sent from Lille. I remember the alien droning sounds that permiated the air, and the black, behemoth like entities that filled the skies as their shafts of light shined onto my Liverpool. Indeed, I was witnessing events that no child should ever see, at night they filled my head with nightmares and to this day I can recall every event with crystal clarity.
One of the memories that haunts me is from the night the doors to our Caryl Street street shelter gave way as a bomb dropped. Though the three of us were saved, the blast itself blew the doors off the shelter, killing five soldiers. I remember, quite vividly, emerging from the shelter to find our surroundings turned into rubble. The streets littered with broken pianos and furniture which had seemingly disintegrated into a pile of matchsticks.
My dad worked twelve hour nights repairing ships at Camel Laird, and any time off was spent 'fire watching'. I didn't get to see too much of him. As the Blitz progressed, our shelter became Dingle's underground station in Park Road. We had no choice but to sleep on the platform, though eventually, even this was bombed.
Liverpool during the Blitz witnessed 5-6 days of relentless attack. Those places which I knew and enjoyed as a child became alien and foreboding. The natural peace and beauty of Sefton Park was corupted by the hulking ugliness of metal machines; artillery, rows of rocket guns and hundreds of jeeps swarming and crushing the green grass under wheel.
I look back at those uncertain and often terrifying times, when as a child, I didn't understand the significance of what my home was suffering. Today, however, I am thankful. Though she may have suffered, my Liverpool's still here.

'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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