大象传媒

Everyone in our area of Manchester who had room in their backyard or garden could have, if they wished, their own air-raid shelter built by the Corporation (as the Council was then called). These brick buildings were about 8 feet by 6 feet with a 6-inch thick concrete roof reinforced with iron bars. They had no doors. So the first thing that everyone's dad had to do was put a door on of some kind.

Eventually, my Dad built bunks inside and my baby brother (Uncle Donald) slept in a folding pram. I can remember that it was very cold in there because the Manchester Blitz happened at round Christmas time. Granddad's Dad connected electricity so we could have a very small light and an electric fire, but that caused so much condensation that the roof dripped water all the time we were in. Later on, we had a blanket hung on a pole over the doorway to keep out some of the draught.

We got into the habit of not going to bed but going into the shelter at
about 6.30 each night. My Mum had a huge case full of tinned food which she had saved from the rations and which she thought would help us if the house was bombed. I've often wondered whether she had included a tin opener! She also had a large patchwork quilt that she used to lay on the floor and put spare clothes for us all into the middle and then tie up the corners. These two things were carried into the shelter each night and brought out again each morning.

The lady next door was very deaf and everybody shouted at her to make her hear. One night, her son came into their shelter and said, "Vine Street is down and everyone has been taken to the Alhambra (the local cinema)". My Mum and Dad were very worried because my grandparents lived in Vine Street and my Mum was ready to go out there and then to find them. However, my Dad said she could go when it was daylight because there were still bombs falling. As soon as it became light, she put on my Dad's tin hat that he had because he was a 鈥渇ire-watcher鈥� and set off to Vine Street which was about 15 minutes walk away. My Dad was looking after our breakfasts and getting himself ready for work. My Mum found that she could not go the way she always went to my Grandmas because some of the roads were blocked off with unexploded bombs. However when she got to the corner where she could see Grandma's house she could see that everything looked all right and in fact they were still in bed - they had slept through the whole night. So she turned round and came straight back home.

Dad still had to go to work although this often meant that he had to walk the 5 miles into Manchester and I still had to go to school. We had to be there on time. No allowances were made for the fact that we might have been up all night.

As far as I can recall, this kind of ritual went on for several months. We could lie in the shelter and hear the guns firing at the aircraft and hear the bombs whistling down and the thuds as they landed. One night, we heard the firewatchers cheering in back entry as they watched a plane come down in flames. With hindsight, I'm not sure how they knew that it was an enemy plane and not one of ours, but I don't think that we had many of our planes intercepting in those days.

My Dad organised the firewatchers for our immediate area. He drew up rotas and they used one of the private air-raid shelters as their headquarters. He used to organise fire drills on Sunday mornings with mock incendiary bombs, teaching the people how to tackle these bombs before major fires broke out. Later, because he became so involved with the firewatchers and because he had been in the LDV (Local defence volunteers , - Dad's Army!) he became the Area Captain for firewatching in the Higher Openshaw area. Because of this he was promoted to wear a white tin hat!

We of course had to go to school and very often we had to go to the shelters and wait for the all clear. The teachers were given the task of keeping us quiet and entertained. They used to ask for people to recite a poem or sing a song. I always used to volunteer to sing and always used to sing, "Hark hark the lark" by Handel, which I had learnt from my days as an evacuee. To this day, one of my friends still remarks on the fact that they had to listen to this song time after time. Well you do get an introduction to the Classics in some odd ways don't you?

The evacuation took place on 31st August as a practice run. I think that this idea was a Manchester one. Of course, whilst we were away, the war broke out. I can remember it vividly because the label round my neck said that I was 7 and on that day I was 8!

Dorothy Hodgkinson

I only lived in the next street, but we did not have an air raid shelter, we had to stay in the pantry under the stair case which was considered the strongest part of the house. We managed to put a single bed in but you never slept much for there was too much going on. My father was also a firewatcher, and as well as patrolling our own area, at least once a week he would have to go on duty to a high place on the roof of the firm he worked for to observe surrounding areas for approaching planes or fire in the local areas and notify a Control Point accordingly.

He was also in the Decontamination squad and in the event of gas bombs, particularly mustard gas, it was his job with other members of this squad to clean the area and make it as safe as possible. He had a set of completely enveloping bright yellow waterproofs for the job. Fortunately it never occurred.

At secondary school, I was a form monitor and it meant every time the teacher took a roll call I had to do the same so that in the event of the
school being involved in any sort of crisis and the teacher being injured, or missing, there would be someone else with a record of all attendees in your form.

Finally, regarding the bombs, I actually ended up with a piece of shrapnel from them. Most of the children I knew would look for pieces of bomb shrapnel and collect them. I had quite a tinful. I was still quite young so did not fully realise the dangers.

Allan Hodgkinson

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