大象传媒

Mona's memories recorded by her on 23rd October 1989, after we had been to Coniston.

'Today we drove round Coniston Water, an area beautiful at any time, but particularly so in its full glory of Autumn. My thoughts went back, as they so often do these days, to when I was young, to an evening about this time of year when I was taken for a drive to the East side of Coniston Water and the lake looked so beautiful in the light of a full moon. We stopped for a brief spell to enjoy such tranquillity, a very welcome respite from the horror of the 'Blitz'. Not for long such peace - suddenly the sky lit up in the direction of home and we drove back as fast as possible, not very easy with no headlights! Mother was alone as Father was on nights at the shipyard and I knew she wouldn't go to the shelter by herself.
We had previously been caught in our house when the roof, doors and windows were all blown away. We had been sitting together when the blast happened. I was trapped by the overturned table, my Mother was blown out into the kitchen and Father just inside where the front door had been. I will never forget his voice shouting desperately for 'Esther'. After that experience he insisted we went to the shelter. how well I remember those all too familiar night sounds - the strange harp-like sounds of a land mine floating down to earth, the scream and crunch of H.E. bombs bringing death and destruction, the clanging of fire engine bells, the sirens of ambulances, the whistles of police and A.R.P. and the cheerful Irish voice of the priest, 'Everyone all right here?' 'Yes Father'. 'Good, God bless you all'. 'Has the yard been hit Father?' 'I believe not. If I hear I'll come back to let you know'.
Dear Father McKenna, a lovely man who didn't care that we were not of his flock - we were all God's children.
Just before dawn the unpleasant but welcome wail of the all clear - back from a quick round of fire watching (none on my patch thank Heaven!) and for a short time all was silent after the clamour of the night. The German bombers had done their worst and were on their way home to a heroes' welcome - all was still.
First light of dawn and a solitary bird sang so beautifully its morning hymn of praise. I wondered then, as I wonder still, why the carnage of those hideous nights of man's inhumanity to man brought only anger and the determination to see it through, yet the perfect purity of a bird's song brought tears.
I can still see the weary, dirty faces of the people leaving the shelters after sitting on hard forms in dark cold noise come out into the light of another day wondering fearfully if they still had homes to go to and if family and friends had survived the night. The men and young people had to get cleaned up and go to work, the children to school and the poor women had to try to get rid of the dirt which got in everywhere and to queue for hours for very little food to feed their families. I always felt they had the hardest time'

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