大象传媒

World War Two

Hockley, Birmingham 鈥� November 1940

In the Second World War it was usual, during air raids, to take cover in the coal cellar of the large old-fashioned house where I was staying. War workers and soldiers were billeted in this house. One particular night as the air raid warning sounded (the siren was called 鈥楳oaning Minnie鈥�), we all descended into the cellar where we made ourselves as comfortable as possible on old chairs, stools and boxes. There were all sorts of odds and ends dumped there over the years and the coal was stacked in the corner. A gas meter stood on a shelf on the wall, with gas pipes running up to the kitchen above. For lighting, we had a hurricane lamp and candles that were always in short supply.
Soon we herd the sound of German planes and bombs whizzing down, making a terrific din, the ack-ack guns shooting off shells at the planes. Sometimes the noise of the guns was more frightening than the bombs exploding. By now we all knew the sound of the German planes, which sounded as if the engine was missing a beat, whereas our planes had a steady drone.
During the raid, after a stick of bombs had fallen, there was a lull. Some of us went upstairs and into the back garden. Basket flares floating in the sky illuminated the whole area. A member of the Home Guard was standing on the highest building shooting at the flares with an old Enfield rifle to block them out. Then we saw the next three-planed approaching, one peeling off to the right, one to the left and one coming straight at us. So we all dashed down the cellar again. Now all hell was let loose, guns firing, explosions, breaking glass and crashing buildings, nearer this time. There was another lull as we were sitting there, trying to talk as though nothing untoward was happening, drinking weak tea made with used tea leaves. The bombing started again. We heard this indescribable sound like a dozen express trains thundering down the track. The last thing I remember seeing was the red brick of the wall lifting away from the mortar, like a house of cards falling apart. It felt as if the house was about to collapse on us with a gigantic crash. I thought that we鈥檇 had it! We were in complete darkness. An eerie silence. After what seemed like eternity I realised I was still alive. This dark silence seemed to go on forever. Then all around I heard sobs, gasps, oaths crying and other human noises, showing we were still there.
I suppose we were all numb with shock and then felt a surge of great relief. Who could tell the depths of emotion we had all passed through? Someone groped for the lamp and the matches but a voice shouted, 鈥淒on鈥檛 strike a match!鈥� After investigation it was discovered that there was no gas leak, which left us wondering what next? All seemed well so the lamp was lit. When we wee accustomed to the brightness what a sight met our eyes. We were covered in coal dust. We looked like a minstrel show with just the whites of our eyes showing.

We discovered that the bomb had passed low over our house, over several streets opposite, demolishing houses on its way. People were killed and injured before the bomb landed, causing more casualties. Many were killed by falling masonry.
The foundations of our house had been lifted by the blast and settled back as though nothing had happened. The house stood and was lived in for many years after the war.
We realised how many familiar faces were missing from the neighbourhood, at bus stops, in the stores or the local pub. We never discovered what really happened to these folk.

Many buildings were destroyed leaving people with no homes to go to or close friends or neighbours to take them in. They were put up in schools, church halls or any spare empty building. The Women鈥檚 Voluntary Service, Salvation Army and other organisations did wonderful work on these occasions. They made everyone as comfortable as possible with mattresses and blankets, comforting the victims and producing urns of hot tea and soup. Sometimes they both tasted the same, but no matter, they were very welcome. We were all in this together.

Well, back in the cellar, after the 鈥榓ll clear鈥� sounded, dawn broke. We came out looking like coal miners. The first priority was to get the war workers washed and changed to clock on for the day shift. The soldiers went back to their depot to wash and put on fresh clothes.

The only place to wash our clothes and bodies was the wash house in the yard, so those of us not working that day filled the copper boiler and lit the fire beneath it to was the 鈥榮malls鈥�. Soap and soap powders were rationed to make the task harder. The outer garments were given a good shake and hung on the line in the garden. God was good to us and sent a shower of rain to wash away the coal dust. Then he sent some watery sunshine to dry the washing. We counted our blessings. It took some time and diplomacy to unite everybody with the right belongings. Often, after a raid, the water mains were out of action and we had to use the nearest standpipe. But that day there was plenty of fresh water. I have travelled on a bus with a bucket, queued and then walked home with a heavy pail of water. I can assure you that water is very heavy. The electricity and gas supply could also be affected.

During the next air raid I was fed up of the Germans, the war and sitting in the cellar, so I decided to stay in bed when I heard 鈥楳oaning Minnie鈥�. When I didn鈥檛 surface, Madam, as we called our French landlady, came upstairs shouting, 鈥淓vie, Evie, get up. Come downstairs. You鈥檒l get killed up here!鈥� She stood over the bed trying to persuade me. I said, 鈥淚f I鈥檓 going to die, I鈥檓 in the proper place.鈥�

Madam was disgusted, 鈥淵ou bloody Irish. You all the same. You mad. You all the same. No sense. Come down to the cellar!鈥� she said in her broken English. When she realised that I was adamant she went away, still carrying on about me getting killed. She was the salt of the earth and cared for us all. The first English sounds that she learned were 鈥榖ugger鈥� and 鈥榖loody鈥�.

However I stayed warm and comfortable in bed listening to the war time sounds. We were beginning to accept these as commonplace and lived to tell the tale.

Eve Smith

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