大象传媒

This story is by Graham KIrkby
It was the twelfth of December 1940. Mrs Kirby bent over the old cast iron mangle, which was situated in the backyard. It seemed as though everything was against her, not only had the old rusty mangle decided to seize up, but at that very moment the north wind decided to roar down the passageway which ran in between the houses. The icy cold wind blasted against her body, almost knocking her off her feet. Gripping the wooden handle with both hands, she managed to steady herself against the biting wind. Bending her head and body low, and straining with all her might she tried to turn the wheel, which would then turn the wooden rollers. Suddenly with a loud squeak the rollers began to turn. Mrs Kirby quickly began to feed the wet clothes into the wooden rollers with one hand as she desperately tried to keep the clanking, screeching rollers turning with the other hand.
It was early evening and already turning dark. Mrs Kirby was desperate to get the last few clothes through the mangle before the light faded. Still pushing with the whole of her might against the wheel, in order to keep the momentum going, she twisted her head sideways, and closing her eyes, she began to shout as loud as she could against the noise of the buffeting wind.
鈥淢ary! Mary lass, can yer ear mi? Cum and gimmi a and ter turn this bloody old mangle. This buggers as stubborn as any man can be. If that鈥檚 possible, that is.鈥�
鈥淎m ere mam! Am ere, a can ere yer, budge up a bit so a can gerra grip on鈥檛 angle.鈥�
As eager as ever, Mary squashed against the side of her mother, and seizing the handle she began to push with all of her strength. The squeaking, groaning cogs began to protest even louder as the clanking roller鈥檚 speed slowly increased. Mrs Kirby had just managed to push the last of the clothes through the mangle, when the loud undulating, piercing wail of the siren blasted across the evening sky.

The sudden loud eerie sound froze them in their tracks. For a few seconds mother and daughter stood as though paralysed, their eyes locked together in mortal fear.
Down at the bottom of the garden Trevor and Graham both froze, and looked at each other with a mixture of bewilderment and fear as the great noise howled its lament through the air. Rigid with fear they both raised their eyes automatically towards the heavens, as though they might be able to see the sudden reverberating, haunting sound of the siren as it howled across the sky.
Both boys jumped involuntarily as their mother鈥檚 voice screamed down the garden.
鈥淭revor! Graham! German bombers er cummin. Yer can鈥檛 gu in鈥檛 air-raid shelter cuss its flooded.鈥�
Their mother鈥檚 white face and trembling voice startled the boys out of their frightened trance. Instinctively feeling that they were in some imminent danger, they scrambled past their mother and elder sister Mary, who were now standing on the doorstep with their eyes strained up towards the ever darkening sky, and fled into the house.
Mrs Kirby, her insides feeling sick with terror, but trying desperately to appear calm, so as not to panic the children. Turned towards thirteen years old Mary, and ushering her into the house after the other two children, shouted as loud as she could against the noise of the warning siren.
鈥淭eck lads behind sideboard and don鈥檛 move. Am guin ter ger our Harold.鈥�
But at that instant, eight year old Harold came dashing in by the back door. His eyes were wide with fear, and his face was full of excitement and fear as he gasped.
鈥淢am! Mam! Sirens er guin. Are Germans cummin mam? Are thi guin ter bomb us mam? Are thi mam? Are thi?鈥�
鈥淪hush, shush. Don鈥檛 bi daft lad.鈥� Mrs Kirby tried to calm him down. 鈥淚t鈥檒l teck moor than a chump like Hitler to beat us British. Quick get behind sideboard wi others, thi鈥檒l never hurt us behind theer.鈥�
Crouching low and pushing Harold before her, Mrs Kirby crawled round the back of the sideboard, sitting down they joined the other children sitting in frightened silence.
The sirens stopped as suddenly as they had started. The children stared at their mother in terror, their ears strained against the uncanny silence, listening for the dreaded undulating sound of the German bombers, and silently praying that the Germans wouldn鈥檛 drop a bomb on their house, knowing, that even one bomb could blow them all to pieces.
Fear seemed to fill Graham鈥檚 trembling body. He wanted to put his arms around his mother, and tell her that he loved her, but his mother was hugging baby Hazel to her chest, her white face looked strained as she rocked back and forth softly humming a lullaby.
Anyway Graham knew that boys didn鈥檛 show their emotions, if they did they would be classed as sissies. He stared straight ahead, hoping his brothers wouldn鈥檛 notice the tears in his eyes. After all he had to be brave, or else he would never grow up to be a real man, and real men never cried.
The distant sound of explosions shattered Graham鈥檚 thoughts, bringing him cruelly back to reality. The far off reverberating sounds of ear splitting cracks and loud bangs increased as the whistling bombs rained down on the city of Sheffield. The loud blasts and bangs were infiltrated by the repetitive. Crack! Crack! Crack! of anti-aircraft guns. The city centre of Sheffield was only about four miles away, and the questions flying through Graham鈥檚 mind as he cowered behind the sideboard with the rest of his family, was. Would the German bombers come their way. Would they drop any left over bombs down on them, would any damaged German bombers crash down on to their house?
A million thoughts went racing through Graham鈥檚 head, and his body suddenly went rigid with fear as the droning sound of the German bomber鈥檚 engines came into earshot.
Hugging baby Hazel even closer to her chest, Mrs Kirby鈥檚 heart was thudding so loud with fear, she felt sure that it would burst. Waves of panic-stricken thoughts started to whirl round inside her head.
Where was God now? Why was he letting this happen? Hadn鈥檛 she made all of her children go to Sunday school? Hadn鈥檛 she brought them up to be honest and truthful?
Anyway on second thoughts, maybe it would be better to die this way. It would be quicker than starving to death. Was this what God was trying to tell her. At least they would all die together. Waves of guilt overwhelmed Mrs Kirby as she glanced round at her family, and saw the stark fear in her children鈥檚 eyes as they sat huddled helplessly together.
Their white faces all turned expectantly towards her. Pulling herself together and trying to appear calm, Mrs Kirby whispered reassuringly.
鈥淒on鈥檛 worry kids, it sounds as though thiv missed steel works, an dropped all their bombs on鈥檛 city centre. So thi鈥檒l ave no bombs left ter drop on us. Anyway if thi can鈥檛 find all them great steel works, thi鈥檒l never be able ter find us, will thi?鈥�
As if in answer, the little group huddled even closer together, seeking comfort and strength from each other.
The dreaded sound of the bombers became louder and louder, until the house seemed to shake to its very foundations, as one after the other the giant bombers flew directly overhead. The vibrating noise of their screaming engines, engulfed their bodies, and pierced their ears, causing them to bow their heads in terror. The smell of hot engines, cordite and oil, swamped the house. The thundering, vibrating noise reached a crescendo as the battered bombers flew onwards, the noise was so great that it seemed as though they were only just missing the chimney pots.
Suddenly, as they all clung together, thinking that they were all going to die. Mrs Kirby in a voice strong and clear, started to sing
鈥淟and of hope and glory, mother of the free.鈥�

As their mother鈥檚 voice grew louder and stronger, the rest of the family, one by one,
Joined in, hesitantly at first, then louder and louder as each of them gained in confidence.

鈥淕od who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet.鈥�

In full voice, and singing louder and louder, the whole family sang their defiance to the German bombers.
It was several minutes before they suddenly realised that the noise of the German bombers had gradually faded away, and as they stopped singing it seemed as though the whole world had gone deadly silent.
The small group crouched in silence for what seemed like an eternity, hardly daring to breath as they clung tightly together. Then as they were all looking fearfully at each other, they slowly began to realise that the danger had passed and that they were all, still, alive.
As if in confirmation of this, at that very moment the continuous sound of the siren started blasting out the all clear.
鈥淐um on kids, its all reight nah, all clears gone.鈥� Mrs Kirby started to crawl out from behind the sideboard, and the rest of the family slowly began to follow her.
鈥淒in鈥檛 a tell yer? Them Jerries ell never win us in a month er Sundays. We鈥檒l win em in鈥檛 end, mark my words. Cum on kids everything鈥檚 O K, don鈥檛 worry, thiv long gone nah. Let鈥檚 gu aht side an get some fresh air.鈥�
The family, tentatively, trooped after their mother, crowding together on the back doorstep. They stared in disbelief at the red glow that filled the entire sky over Sheffield. The eerie glow was interspersed by columns of smoke, which spiralled skywards on the distant skyline. Two hundred yards away, incendiary bombs had fell in farmer Whitham鈥檚 field, and the long hedgerow was burning fiercely. Five doors away, old Mr Allen鈥檚 sheds, where he had his stick bundling business, were also on fire.
In the flickering light of the fires, shadowy figures could be seen passing buckets of water along to the people at the front, who were then slinging the water high up onto the wooden sheds, in their efforts to douse the fires.
As other families started to trickle out of their houses, they all started to congregate together in each other鈥檚 back yards, forming larger groups, asking each other if everyone was alright. As though seeking comfort and assurance from each other.
They looked in silent sadness, at the smoky, fiery, red sky over the centre of Sheffield, and felt a great sorrow and sympathy for the people who lived there. But unspoken relief and guilt showed on their faces, as they felt glad that it wasn鈥檛 their own families, that had been bombed.
Hot mugs of oxo, and mugs of tea were carried out of the backdoors of the terraced houses, and handed out amongst the groups of shocked friends and neighbours, who lingered on, crowding closely together, half smiling, nervously, in their efforts to find reassurance and support.
Gradually, children began to dash around, in and out of the groups of grown ups, stretching their arms out sideways, as they pretended to be aeroplanes. Then zooming in and out of the groups of people, they began once again to sing their defiance against the Germans, with many of the grown ups joining in.

Ar soldiers gone ter war, ar soldiers fightin
Ar soldiers shootin bullits up the German鈥檚
Arsol---diers gone ter war鈥︹�︹�︹�︹�︹�︹��..

The words were sang repeatedly over and over again, with gusto, especially by the children. After all, it would probably be the only time that they would ever be allowed to swear in the presence of adults, and not get a clip round the ear.
There were more bombs dropped on the city of Sheffield a couple of nights later on.
There were also many more false alarms, as the Germans passed over Sheffield on their way to other targets. The sirens still sent everyone scurrying for cover, into their shelters, down their cellars, or behind their sideboards, where they would wait fearfully until the all clear sounded.

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