大象传媒

I941-2 my parents were living at 100, Ashted Row, Birmingham and my fathers's Chemist's Shop was at 53, Ashted Row. His shop was open daily from 9 till 8pm and he was an air raid warden as well as running his shop.He had a severe sight impairment and as a result he was in the ambulance corps during the First World War. After the war he had to study really hard to gain his MPS qualification, often by candlelight, which made his sight much worse.
He was a very kind man, always comforting and I was never afraid of him even when I had done something wrong.
The war during that period in Birmingham was relentless. It was a full four weeks and people just hadn't been to bed. They slept in shelters, they even slept standing up. Every single night there were air raids and they would even discharge any unused bombs and bullets on the way back to Germany. One day a lady was actually chased by a single fighter in broad daylight and he started machine gunning the road where she was walking.
It was a terrible time and the nights were lit up by the fires from people's houses and the factories that had been bombed. This went on ,night after night and people just carried on. They saw all the horror and yet they just carried on, bottling up all their emotions inside. Often after a night of bombing people would go to work only to find some of their workmates would be missing but still they carried on.

Just a few memories really stand out in my mind. The first explosive incendiary fell on to my home. The publican, Mr Humbert Davies, from across the road, was on the flat roof of the extension as he was on duty as fire warden. He saw the incendiary go through the roof.It went right through the first and second floor and into the front room on the ground floor. He rushed over and spoke to my mother and sent her off for the equipment - buckets, pumps, sand and water to put out the fire. She was on her way back when she heard the bang and not knowing what it was opened the door to find the incendiary had exploded and that Mr Davies had been badly injured with part of one leg and the whole of the other leg blown away. One of his hands had also been injured. The men came and moved him onto the lino in the other room and my Dad, being a pharmacist, was sent for to try and help him. He asked him if there was anything that he wanted and surprisingly he asked for a fag! My Dad had given up smoking at the beginning of the war but he still had some in his desk. He lit one up and placed it in the injured man's mouth, but he rejected it saying "that's not a fag I want a Woodbine." All the neighbours rallied around to clear up all the blood and even clean off bits of the poor man's flesh that was stuck to the ceiling. The curtains were taken down and when my sister and I were shaking them out to rehang a while later we found some of his fingers. The poor man had died trying to help someone else in their home and not even his own.
After the incident lots of officials came to take measurements and assess the damage due to the blast. This information would be used to amend the safety requlations that everyone was required to hold.
It was some months later after the damage had been repaired that I went to see my parents and went to talk to my Dad who was at his desk. He was looking for something
and then I heard rather a strange noise. When I looked over I realised that he was actually crying and it was because he had found that he had a pack of Woodbines after all, and had been unable to give a dying man his last wish.

My husband and I were both on leave one weekend and we wanted to go back to Birmingham from Netherhavon to help at home. We travelled by train from Salisbury and should have arrived early that evening. The train was absolutely packed with soldiers, and their kit bags blocked all the corridors making it impossible to move. It was about eight in the evening when we drew into Leamington and it was pitch dark. The German bombers were overhead in their hundreds and in the distance the sky over Birmingham was lit up like a firework display. The staff on Leamington station were hurrying people off the train because the fire from the engine would be visible and attract the bombers. By about 9.30 we were on the outskirts of Solihull and we were told that there were unexploded bombs on the line and that we couldn't move until daylight. Even then apologies were made and we had to leave the train and make our own way home. My husband and I got a lift - a business man had a Jaguar and was on his way home. The buildings were burning all the roads seemed to be blocked with police and firemen and every road he turned down we seemed to have to reverse as we could not get through. He decided that it would be better if we found our own way so we got out and started to walk. At one point I rested my suitcase amongst the various hoses and the firemen called from a ladder "I wouldn't leave your case ther if I was you love, there's an unexploded bomb beneath it!" The hole was about 9inches and a snug fir for my case! I couldn't understand whgat he was talking about a\s I could only see a relatively small hole, but decided to take his advice. Civilians were milling about in various stages of undress and quite bewildered. One old lady didn't know where she was or what had happened to her and was wandering around in a flimsy nightie and with nothing on her feet. It was awful not to be able to help anyone. Eventually about 10 or 10 30am we neared home dreading what we might find. I was quite terrified and my husband told me to pick up my case and go. I had to really take a deep breath and force myself to go and look. It wa swith huge relief that we saw the row of houses still standing and Mum
was just seeing off a visitor from the doorstep. We had walked about eight miles and considered ourselves most fortunate that everything was still standing. She was so relieved to see us safe and sound as we were so late and there had been so much bombing. It had been going on for four weeks night after night. Dad's shop had been hit and Mum's first thought was to have a cup of tea and then go up to Dad who had to stay there because of all the drugs. The doors and windows had to be made secure before dusk. All through the work people would come to the shop and talk to my Dad about their problems. One man came in and said "I lost my Lil last night" Dad just turned and said "We've all got our troubles" It was not said unkindly but it was not really my Dad talking. He was always sympathetic and gave a bit of advice but he was numb with it all. He had to keep a clear head to to do his job as medicines were more complicated and had to be dispensed properly in those days.
One day after the end of the war I asked my Dad what was the most terrifying moment for him. He said it ws in Bloomsbury Street during the raids:
"I was on duty and my instruction was to guard an unexploded bomb until day light. It wa pitch black except for the lights and flashes from the guns and the bombs. When I found it, it was in the road and I lay down in the gutter to guard it. The road was cobbled and usually quite busy with drey horses and milk wagons coming from the Coop Dairies and I was afraid any vibration from the vehicles would set it off.It was the loneliest experience of my life. No-one could help, no-one passed by and it was a huge responsibility. I was very cold and terrified - daylight couldn't come too soon."
After all he had been through after having been so strong for everybody else it was a shock and surprise that this one event among many meant so much to him. He must have been exhausted and this memory seemed to encapsulate and personify the whole war experience for him. He must have spent so much of the time terrified but all the while having to be totally unselfish and staying brave and strong for everyone around him.

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