大象传媒

I was 6 when the war started the eldest of 3 (sister of 3 brother 6 months old.) I remember the first air-raid siren frightened me into dropping the pies I had bought from the bakers. Only a practice of course but a shock. Later we all got used to the noise if not the consequence.
My father was a tanner, important then so his was a reserved occupation. We were glad as he stayed with us, not that he was entirely safe. Who was then? He was in the St Johns Ambulance brigade, and had duty at the F.A.P,(First Aid Post.) also gave a hand with Heavy rescue.
( there were a lot of abbreviations that time, EWS FAp HR AFS etc)
We lived in an industrial town in south LAncashire about 12 miles from Liverpool with chemical works and so on including a section of ICI which was doing something with munitions , We never mentioned the name of this factory . It was always called "Hush-hush."
So Dad decided we should be evacuated; all except him. We arrived in Blackpool by train, and a more miserable place you couldn't wish for in wartime.( I think it coloured my view of the place for ever.) Nothing to do, except walk around. We stayed 2 weeks after my Mum got us moved once because of bugs in the bed. We did have a good lodgings later but we were all homesick. Dad was not pleased to see us. He wanted us safe, but Mum said "All together ,go together" and that ended the argument.
I remember getting the gas masks, and registration cards. The masks were odd for the children, there was a "Nose" that flapped about when you breathed. The adult ones were quite ordinary, but Mum complained about the one for my brother. It was like a giant khaki egg in which he was to be strapped, enclosed, imprisoned. Mum asked how much caring was in that It was relegated to the "under the stairs" and only viewed as a curiosity. (The registration numbers were in sequence, and are still in use today as N H S identities)
We lived in a Council house and had the benefit of a brick shelter with a cunning escape hatch at the back and special gas proof doors. In the beginning we all furnished them with beds and candles or lamps and fires , but they were very damp and many people didn't bother with them even when the raids began. We didn't feel we were targets, though we did have evidence of raids on Liverpool and dogfights after night raids, with German bombers trying to limp home harried by fighters. We would stand on the back step for that. Daft with the shrapnel falling about. Local boys would collect it after a raid, usually still hot.
I think it was about this time that the authorities began to experiment with ways to protect places from the air with smoke screens. There would be a parcel delivered containing some brick or other and instructions as to what to do with it at a certain time usually to put it on the fire. I think it did not work well wxcept to make everyone cough and wheeze in the morning.
The blackout was frightening at times. Once I was sent to the local shop after dark perhaps 300 yards along the road when all the lights were off(usually there would be some glimmer, but I think a raid was expected) As I came out of the shop I felt as though someone had dropped a thick black blanket over me. I could not find my way though I traced this route every day,played round the shop. I was in a panic when I heard my Dad calling. He must have thought about the blackout and came for me. I do know how sensory deprivation feels, and remember it as though it was yesterday,after over 60 years.