A first person account of the blitz. by Mr 10



Moments when your child's mind blows you away with pride as he remembers all who fell in World War 2


By my youngest little man Age 10
(Produced in school for Armistice Day)


Baby Alice was the first to notice, she began screaming her socks off before the siren even started! Alice must have seen the planes oddly maneuvering throughout the soon to be gloomy skies. We ran through the house, bewildered as this was the first night of what I called "pitch black attack".


Still confused, we made our way outside and into the Anderson Shelter. The air raid siren rang over and over, again and again, rattling around my brain. I felt my sanity slip slowly through my fingers as the devastating bombs whistled and colourful charades of flames crackled all around us.


Mum sang lullabies to Alice, while I reassured myself that everything was okay. To make things even worse, Mum began to shed single tears while still maintaining her beautiful, soft songs of hope.


A moment felt like a million years and a minute felt like a lifetime while Big Ben chimed. Bang, crackle, whistle, repeat, bang, crackle, whistle, repeat. It was a never ending song of torment, an offbeat orchestra.
But suddenly, near silence! All that was left was quiet fire. Could it be....better? Next, the all clear siren! We ran and climbed the hatch, we joyfully ran onto our precious grass and what we saw was...rubble.


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