大象传媒

This story has been gathered onto the 大象传媒 People's War Site by CSV Storygatherer Linda Finlay. the story has been added to the site with her permission and Mary Jackson fully understands the terms and conditions of the site

Everything had been prepared for Christmas Day and this Christmas Eve, we had had a party tea early, got ourselves washed and into socks, pyjamas, shoes, jumpers and our hats, coats, gloves and pillows were to hand as usual, whilst we waited for the air raid sirens to start wailing. By seven o'clock nothing had happened, so we continued to play about in the unaccustomed space of the living room. Mother, consulting Father, tentatively put hot-water bottles into beds and at 7.30 made up the fire. The tow little ones were put to bed and we were allowed to stay up late and listen to the wireless. The city had done its best to show a festive spirit but of course there were not lights after dark, everyone was asked to conserve water and fuel, so the commercial Christmas was very poor compared with two years previously.

All was still peaceful at 8.30pm and so we were packed off to bed. It was strange going upstairs and climbing into a proper bed, without your jumper, your coat and your pixie hood and maybe even yor gloves. Anderson shelters were extremely cold and ran with condensation. The bedroom was
freezing cold too and you could feel the lino through your socks.

It seemed very bright outdoors and having put out the light, we lifted the curtains and blackout curtains and looked out. the moonlight was absolutely beautiful. The stars were brilliant and already the frost sparkled on the lawn, the hedges and the roofs. It was a true bombers' moon. Mother came up to tuck us in and found us kneeling at the window. It may have been te heart of industrial England but the tranquility of the scene was incredible. Everyone knows that windows can produce bars of light through condensation and faults in the glass and out windows were not exception, but not matter how I moved my head and squinted the vision remained the same. I rubbed the window with my pyjama sleev e and it was still there.

I said "Mum there's a cross on the moon."
She said "No it's just the faults in te glass"

Joan could see it too, so below zero thought it was, we pushed up the sash. There was this brilliant moon and over it an even more brilliant cross. We sat and looked at it, savouring the peace of it all, until Mother told us to get into bed before we caught cold. But she said it very quietly, kissed us goodnight and went downstairs.

Shortly afterward I heard the front door open and I think my parents must have gone outside together. I cannot remember Christmas Day but I do know we had no air raids anywhere in the country that night, but it was back to normal on boxing night when we heard the Junkers engines almost before the sirens.

There was never anything in the papers, either local or national about this event, but I cannot imagine that such a vision of hope in the midst of all the hardshipa nd misery was vouchsafed only to two little girls and their parents.

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