大象传媒

鈥淎 Boy in the Blitz鈥�
In September 1940 I was a boy of eleven, living with my parents in a small terrace house just off the Harrow Road, in NW London. I was evacuated to the country when war broke out, but as nothing seemed to be happening I was brought back home in May 1940. I had won a scholarship to the local Grammar School, and started there at the beginning of September 1940. A lot of our time was spent in a brick air-raid shelter in the playground, as the Battle of Britain was just reaching its climax, and we were having air raids every day and night. But Wednesday, September 18th was a rather special day.....

About 8.30 in the evening the sirens sounded again, a wailing up-and-down note which we were getting familar with. My Mum called out 鈥淭ony, put your homework away and go down to the shelter鈥�. It was Wednesday, September 18th 1940, the Battle of Britain was at its height, and the Germans had started to bomb London in a big way, by night as well as by day.
Despite the war, despite the blitz, our maths master, 鈥淏ig Bill鈥� Bentley, handed out out loads of homework every maths lesson, and I was trying to do mine on the kitchen table in our small terraced house off the Harrow Road, near Kensal Green, in north-west London. I was struggling a bit, as algebra and trigonometry were both very new and strange to me, and to my parents, so they were not able to help at all.
I put my books and things in my satchel, which was hanging up in the hallway, grabbed my little first-aid kit in a tin box that I always took with me to the shelter, put on a coat, as it was beginning to get cold in the evenings, trotted out into the small backyard and down the steps into the Anderson shelter. I could hear my Mum calling to my Dad 鈥淚鈥檝e got Derek (my younger brother, who was in bed and asleep) - hurry up , George, and get down to the shelter鈥�. She came bustling out, with Derek in her arms, wrapped up in a blanket.
Already the unsteady drone of German bombers could be heard, and the noise of anti-aircraft guns was getting louder as the bombers came nearer. Searchlights were weaving about in the sky, and the night was lit up by the flashes of exploding anti-aircraft shells. 鈥淒on鈥檛 stand up there watching, George鈥�, said my Mum, 鈥淐ome on in, it鈥檚 dangerous out there鈥�.
Usually my Dad liked to lean against the Anderson shelter, and watch the scene, whilst he finished off his pipe of tobacco. He had been in the trenches in the first world war, and was quite unmoved by the noise and commotion - and the danger - going on around. But tonight, unusually, he hadn鈥檛 lit up his pipe, and came on in when my Mum called to him.
They sat together on the side of one of the lower bunks in the shelter, talking quietly. I sat on the other bunk, and my brother was in the top bunk, still asleep. The noise of the air-raid came nearer, with the whistle, whoosh and bang of the bombs, the fire-engine bells, and the sharp crack of nearby anti-aircraft guns getting louder all the time.
I was sitting on the edge of the bunk, holding a small torch, still thinking of my homework, and of one of the sums I couldn鈥檛 do, when, without warning, everything went black. I don鈥檛 know how long it lasted, probably only a few seconds, then suddenly the air was full of choking dust, people were shouting and screaming outside the shelter. The candles on a ledge in the shelter had been blown out, but in the light of my torch , through the fog of dust, I could see my Mum looking very white and shaken. My Dad said calmly, 鈥淚 expect that鈥檚 the house gone, a direct hit probably鈥�. There was shouting outside, and the curtain over the entrance to the shelter was pulled aside, a torch shone in, and an air-raid warden shouted 鈥淎nyone hurt, you alright in here?鈥� 鈥淵es, alright, but what happened, are we hit鈥� my Dad replied. 鈥淎 mine over Buller Road, everywhere鈥檚 flattened, a lot killed鈥� the warden said, and disappeared. 鈥淕o and have a look, George鈥�, my Mum whispered, 鈥渂ut do be careful鈥�.
My Dad pulled himself up through the entrance to the shelter and surveyed the scene. 鈥淢y God鈥�, I heard him say, 鈥渨hat a mess鈥�. He came back in, and spoke to my Mum. 鈥淭he house is standing, but the roof鈥檚 gone, there鈥檚 timber everywhere, there鈥檚 lot of buildings down over the back, where Compton Road was鈥�
Just then we heard whistles blowing, people shouting, and the clang of fire-engine bells. A voice shouted 鈥淓verybody out, get out of here, a gas-mains busted, there鈥檚 going to be a bloody great bang in a moment鈥�. 鈥淪uch language in front of the children鈥�, my Mum said reprovingly. A warden was standing by the shelter entrance, and helped her up. 鈥淵ou go with Derek, I鈥檒l bring Tony鈥�, she said to my Dad. 鈥淢ind how you go, love鈥� the warden said in a friendly voice, 鈥渢here鈥檚 glass everywhere.
I came out of the shelter behind my Mum, and looked at a scene of devastation. The backyard, and the shelter, were covered, criss-cross, with broken roof timbers, bits of wood, tiles, bricks, bits of furniture. The windows of the house were gone. and the back door, ripped open, hung forlornly on one hinge. The tiles were gone from the roof of the house, and a few remaining timbers stuck up blackly against the clouds in the moonlight.
The crash of anti-aircraft guns, and the drone of aircraft engines increased again. 鈥淨uick, now, up to Harvist Road School, there鈥檚 a rest centre there, where everyone鈥榮 going鈥� said the warden. My Mum and I made our way through our shattered house, and out past the front door, now hanging off its hinges, into the road. I remember vividly the walk through the streets, white with mortar dust from broken buildings, rubble strewn everywhere, broken glass glittering in the light from the searchlights weaving around in the sky, the noise of AA guns, the ringing of fire-engine bells in the distance. We hurried towards the school together, my Mum squeezing us both into a shop doorway as we heard the whistle and whoosh of a bomb coming down, and a heart-stopping explosion not far away. 鈥淨uick, to the school鈥�, said my Mum, and we hurried across the road to Harvist Road School. Suddenly I tripped over a lump of brick, and fell on my hands, cutting one of my thumbs on a piece of glass. 鈥淧ut your hanky round it鈥�, said my Mum, when she saw the blood coming out of my thumb, 鈥渢here鈥檒l be a first-aid man at the centre鈥�. 鈥淚 should have brought my first-aid tin鈥� I protested, but already we were across the road, into the playground, and running for the entrance to the shelter.
We pushed open the two doors, and were immediately struck by the light, a babble of excited voices, children crying, the warm smell of people. A lady from the WVS came over, and my Mum said, 鈥淗e鈥檚 cut his hand, can we get it bandaged?鈥� 鈥淐ome over here and get a cup of tea鈥�, said the lady, 鈥渁nd we鈥檒l get it seen to鈥�.
Then followed getting my hand bandaged, drinking hot tea, trying to sleep on some makeshift beds on the floor. My Dad came in with Derek, and together we huddled on a mattress. More people came in, some went off to find friends, and somewhere to stay for the night. When the all-clear sounded next morning we found we were being moved to another rest centre further out in the suburbs. Several days of confusion followed, and I recollect being moved around, accommodation found for us in an empty house somewhere, my Mum and Dad going back to our house to collect our cat, some furniture and clothes,and other things, although a lot of our belongings - clocks, some clothes, my collection of toy ships, my bike, had been looted
After a few days I went back to school, with a note to say why I had been away. 鈥淎h, Cheney鈥� my form master said, 鈥淲e heard that your road had been bombed, we thought you were dead!鈥�. And I never did finish that night's piece of homework.

Tony Cheney
October 2004

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