91�ȱ�

'This story was submitted to the People's War site by Rick Allden of the CSV 91�ȱ� Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of Joyce O'Kane and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions'.

We were never really prepared for the aftermath of a raid. Houses were sliced in two, revealing the private lives of the occupants. I remember one small fireplace in an upstairs room, untouched, its mantelpiece still adorned by a central clock with a matching vase on each side.

There were some remarkable escapes. In one case a bed had fallen two floors with the sleeping occupants unharmed. Although my family came to no harm, I remember the morning register at school. One of my friends was grievously wounded, whilst another — a pleasant, helpful girl — left the shelter in the garden on the “all clear” to make a cup of tea for the family. A lone bomber shed its last load on the house, a direct hit, just as she entered on her kindly mission.

Another morning we would see a double-decker bus upended in a crater, like some clumsy, helpless insect. Miraculously the bus was empty and the shocked driver clambered out unhurt.

My grandmother, the matriarch of the family, decided to move further away from the town centre of Birmingham. We uprooted ourselves and moved three quarters of a mile further away on the main road. I wouldn’t have thought that three quarters of a mile in an aeroplane would have made much difference, but within two weeks of moving, the original Georgian House had a direct hit. Some furniture had not yet been moved, but all was completely destroyed. In a subsequent raid our roof suffered from the blast of a landmine. I was either blown out of bed, or leapt out in shock. There were glass shards in the wall above my head and the blackout curtains had been ripped to shreds by the glass, so we had to find our way in the darkness. My mother was out on duty as a warden and I remember shouting to my father “Put your slippers on” because of the glass. Strangely, we weren’t frightened. I suppose we had dreaded and anticipated the occasion for so long that when it came, we just felt lucky to be completely unhurt.

This story was donated to the People’s War website by Joyce O'Kane, of the Leam Writers. If you would like to find out more about Leam Writers call 0845 900 5 300.

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