- Contributed by听
- eafish
- Location of story:听
- Handley, New Whittington
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A3357579
- Contributed on:听
- 02 December 2004
I was seven years old at the time of the bombings of Attercliffe, Sheffield. A bomb had been dropped and had exploded in a field at Handley near New Whittington. All the locals had walked up to see the crater it had made.
School held no importance for me with all this other excitement going on around me. My neighbour, Bert, a grown up of eleven years old who was giving me a donkey ride at the time, was persevering at teaching me to spell 鈥淗itler鈥.
No, 鈥淗itler鈥 not 鈥淗ilter鈥, no not 鈥淗ilret鈥, he kept on and on 鈥淗-I-T-L-E-R鈥
That night I woke everyone up in the household shouting 鈥淏ERT, BERT I can spell Hitler鈥.
Just then the Air Raid Sirens started to wail and the steady drone of the bomber engines could be heard in the distance.
My dad was carrying me down the garden path wrapped up in a blanket when I spied Bert running down the garden to the Anderson Shelter. I immediately started again 鈥淏ERT, BERT鈥, I can spell Hitler鈥 when he interrupted me shouting 鈥淪HURRUP AND GERRIN鈥橳 SHELTER AFOE HE GETS THEE鈥
A phrase and a night I will never forget.
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