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This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Thelma Sharman of the CSV 大象传媒 Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of Hazel Gibbs and has been added to the site with his/her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions,

SOUNDS AND SMELLS OF WAR AT THE AGE OF TEN

Sounds-

Air Raid Warning Sirens
A weird wailing, blood chilling, undulating sound, filling me with dread, knowing
from experience what it was a preliminary to.

Heavy Gunfire
Sited in the nearby Memorial Park in Coventry, heavy guns set up a persistent barrage of attack on the bombers coming into the City. I remember sitting in the family Air Raid Shelter with the rest on my family listening to the continuous thud, thud as they tried desperately to defend us.. The noise was deafening and in my young mind it sounded as if giants were jumping up and down on huge hollow drain covers having done this on a smaller scale many times along streets where there were cellars below.

Drone of Enemy Aircraft
Usually around 7 p.m. night after night, often before we reached our shelter or later
on in time when we had to take shelter under the stairs of our house as the Anderson shelter filled with muddy water from an underground source. We listened to the drone of many enemy planes above, heavy with loaded bombs and waited for the loud explosions, which always made me jump, and the lesser noise of glass shattering all around us.

The 鈥淎ll Clear鈥�
The same siren as produced the Warning signal at long last would sound again. But now a long smooth welcome tone. Usually at around dawn, it brought such a feeling of relief and release knowing I could return to my bed for a brief sleep before getting ready for school at the usual time.

And Smells

Boiled Milk
On a rare occasion when a raid occurred in daylight and therefore during school
hours, pupils were ushered by their teachers into the underground shelter in a field next to our school where our Head Teacher tested out the Field Kitchen equipment supplied down there by putting all our small bottles of school milk into a large container and heating it up and handing it out. Although my mother had often boiled milk, somehow the smell of it always reminded me of that gloomy shelter and the long benches where we all sat sipping our hot milk until the 鈥� All Clear"" sounded shortly afterwards.

Plaster
There was always the faint smell of wall plaster in the air from the wrecked houses and tumbledown walls, a dry dusty smell in fine weather and a damp more pungent smell after rain.

Gas
After the major blitz on Coventry in November, fractured gas mains left a smell of gas which pervaded the outside air. Electric cables were all down and my mother had to cook and heat water on our open coal fire. The soot from the fire ruined the saucepans so that when electricity was eventually restored these cooking utensils would not clean up, so could never again be used on an electric cooker and had to be thrown out come the more peaceful times.

Piano Strings
A cacophony of sound produced by me and fellow pupil running sticks up and down the strings on a ruined grand piano we found in a large house which had been bombed to the ground. This was near our school and towards the end of the war. We often spent our lunch-time on this pastime and looking for the ghost, which rumour had was dwelling somewhere in this or neighbouring bombed out dwellings. Eventually someone must have complained to our Head Teacher as this area was put out of bounds, so we never did find the ghost!.

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