大象传媒

This story has been written onto the 大象传媒 People's War site by CSV Storygatherer Kate Langdon on behalf of Joan Frances Brown. They fully understand the terms and conditions of the site.

I can't exactly remember the year, probably 1941 at the height of The Blitz. We had been bombed out of our home in Great Bridge and had to move to a flat over a bank in Smethwick, only 4 miles from Birmingham. One of the conditions for occupying this flat was that my father, an ARP Warden, was to be responsible for dealing with incendiary bombs which could land on the flat roof of the building. It was a case of 'any port in a storm' so we moved in with what was left of our home and hoped for the best.

My father organised the buckets of sand and a small tin bath, etc of water, plus the all important stirrup pump. There was just one snag, it was a two man job. One to direct the water onto the incendiary bomb and someone to pump the water. It fell to me as the eldest and anyway I hated being down in the vaults of the bank, which we used during a raid; after negotiating five flights of stairs, a very heavy door onto the street and finally into the bank and down into the vaults (we being my mother, sister and myself). So I became pumper-in-chief and even my 16 year old muscles found it hard work.

Then came the night when Coventry was bombed almost to extinction and Birmingham blazed from end to end. Standing on that flat roof was like looking into hell - Birmingham only 4 miles away and bombs exploding, the roar of the planes' engines, and Coventry. The fires of Coventry lighting the sky for miles and miles. Dad and I stood and could not, did not want to, believe what we were seeing. Both of us realised we were sobbing as we took in the horror of what was happening.

Truly it was like looking into hell. But the incendiary bombs were still dropping and had to be dealt with, my father directing the jets of water and myself pumping like mad to keep the water coming.

That is a night of fear, despair, deep sorrow and rage and one I have never forgotten. At the age of 80 years it still affects me the same way whenever I think of WWII, but we all survived and I lived to tell the facts of what war is like, unlike the thousands who died that night.

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