A Child's War, Liverpool Circa 1941 - A Poem

These are very real memories. Every incident and experience described is specific and is quite clear in my mind. Sadly, at no time since, have children somewhere in the world been free of the same fears, and worse.

In the night
Sleepy eyes;
Bundled into siren suit
Red flannel they said
And a camel dressing gown.

Down the stairs
In mum’s arms;
Passed into an iron shelter
Under the earth
With vegetables growing on top.

Crump, Crump, Crump!
Mum makes tea:
Quick dash to kitchen.
Skies are lit up
Dad lets me watch the searchlights.

Crump, Crump, Crump!
Mobile Ack Ack
Outside the front door.
Mum takes tea;
Quick dash to gun.

Back again,
Looking up
Sees bomber in searchlight;
Shouts at it and at Hitler.
Come in Peg (That’s dad shouting).

Thwack! Outside.
Shrapnel
Bedded in the wood
Round the entrance
Thank God she came in.

Ern, Doris
And Graham Foulkes
From next door share our shelter.
We all ‘Dig for Victory!’
In their garden.

There’s a light;
Dad put it in.
Games — Ludo — cards
Whistling bombs
Bam, Crunch, Crash.

That’s no gun.
That’s Bombs,
Not far away either.
Next day, found out;
Swanside Road; Girl from school killed.

Back in bed
When I woke.
Must get the shrapnel after school.
Find plenty on the way;
We do ‘swaps’

The gun’s gone
Hope Hitler
Doesn’t bomb it
In tonight’s raid
Knock, Knock, Knock.

Only Brian;
Calling for school.
Play Spitfires on the way
But it’s daft.
Spitfires can’t search for shrapnel.

School’s in a house.
Too dangerous
All together in one building.
Ashover Avenue.
I like that. Posh.

Cut out
Union Jacks
From ‘Flag’ cigarette packets.
Arthur sticks them in a map;
Pinholes are getting closer.

They’re talking
About ‘Blitz’
I’m seven and I can’t die.
Really, I can’t; I know I can’t.
Joan Saunders did though, in Swanside.

At last,
We’ve found
The shrapnel that nearly got mum.
Dad dug it out of the wood
And gave it to me.

Alder Hey; ward M2
Three months
In hospital.
Full of blokes in blue suits.
Lowered sweets from the balcony above.

Six months
Convalescent,
In Rhyl. Could see fires in Liverpool,
I think, glowing.
Hope Mum, Dad and Arthur are OK.

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