大象传媒

I was 2 when war was declared and don't remember it at all. But I do remember the air raids. I was 3 by then and becoming aware. The intermittent wail of many different sirens is imprinted on my memory for ever. I recall my dad groaning "Oh! Not again", and scrambling into his overcoat,balaclava helmet, and tin hat.I remember my mum grabbing me and shouting to my brother to get up,bring his eiderdown, and "Don't trail it down the stairs". I remember being wrapped in a travelling rug and carried out into the night, then down into the Anderson shelter whilst that strange harsh,yet staccato drone of the German bombers grew louder. Then dad would be off on his fire-watching duties, whilst mum attempted to bed us down on the narrow bunks which dad had erected in the shelter. It was cold, damp, and horrid, and we rarely slept. My brother - nine years older would attempt to amuse us with silly jokes and songs, but I could sense mum's terror. When at last the All-clear sounded she seemed more at ease, but it was sometimes another hour before dad came home after seeing all the lady fire-watchers to their doors. One night it was really bad, and I could hear this strange boom-boom,boom-boom, which folk have told me was the sound of the ack-ack guns amid the whistle-crump of the bombs. Dad arrived and took mum outside to put out incendiary fires with the ashes from the bin. When we got back in the house, everything was covered in soot.

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