by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
Everybody was just stunned; couldn’t cope. Why had God let it happen? Then the stories changed. Wicked things had gone on in that shelter. People had taken drink down there; held parties. Music and dancing every night. Immorality, and they didn’t care who...
by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
When war broke out my father became a section leader in the wardens. He knew more about the raids than anyone else. He’d come home from work and say there’s still a yellow alert on. The beggers is hanging around somewhere. (Red alert meant the siren had...
by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
Terrible rumours started going around. People so crushed they couldn’t be recognised; people sitting there without a mark on them, just dead. Mothers with babies still in their arms. A man still holding his accordion… Robert Westall: Children of the Blitz:...
by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
…and there was the German bomber streaking up the river, so long and thin you could tell it was a Dornier Flying Pencil. And bursts of anti-aircraft fire, like grey balls of cotton wool growing in the sky, in clumps of four, but all miles behind the bomber....
by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
We inspected the town’s defences daily looking for improvements and making sure the crews knew their job. Best were the barrage balloons. We spent hours at Dockwray Square, staring through the railings; the balloon was like a great silver elephant, whose sides...
by admins | Mar 6, 2013 | Archives
Me and my mate Stanley worked out ways of fooling the German bombers. If they machine gunned us from the air, we’d pretend to fall down dead, then get up and run again, then pretend to die again. This would ruin their estimate of civilian casualties. Robert...
