大象传媒

This is a story of the Christmas blitz on Wallasey, where I (Irene Perry)lived during the war.

Of the many volunteer duties I had during the war, one was Night Rest Centre.

Day staff always seemed plentiful but night duties were not relished. At first we used to open our particular church hall as assigned, but later the police would notify us if the hall in our area was needed. I was on duty mostly alone but had a conscientious objector to empty heavy bins and generally clear up.

After a series of heavy raids the Manor Road Hall had about 200 or so people living there, filling the hall and all the vestries to capacity. The elderly were visited by doctors who gave me drugs to administer. There were young babies, soldiers trying vainly to salvage their homes, and children of all ages - a real cross section of humanity.

About nine o'clock this particular night, three young children were brought in to join the already crowded hall - their parents presumed lost.

The eldest was aged about 8 years old if I remember correctly. I washed them and made them comfortable. They insisted they sleep under the balcony where the lights were lit up. I fixed this for them and kept slipping back to see how they were faring. On finding that they were fighting off sleep, to the extent of holding their eyes open, I asked them why. Their reply hit me like a bomb.
"We're waiting for Father Christmas."
It was Christmas Eve.

In the midst of bereavement, loss of homes, tracing of relatives, everyone seemed to have forgotten it was Christmas.

While making nightcaps for those who couldn't sleep, I tried to think of some way to make it like Christmas for the children. Near midnight a taxi driver looked in to see if all was well, so I told him the situation.

He dashed off and was back shortly with all sorts of things. He had toured the big houses telling the plight of the children and asking for anything to help make it like Christmas. We worked very hard all night; taking off my stockings and borrowing other people's we filled them with oranges, apples and toys and laid one beside each sleeping child. The people in the hall were up at 6a.m. We fixed up a trestle table, laid a fancy Christmas breakfast and sang carols.

The delight on the children's faces when they saw the stockings was ample reward for the night's labour.

After the ordeal they had been through it gave the children something to cling to - the fact that Santa Claus had not forgotten.

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