"I prayed for angels to guard us as bomb landed in Sheffield"

My dad was away, serving in the Royal Navy and by the time of the Blitz, had already been sunk and survived.

My mother was what was called ‘stone deaf’ and could not hear anything, so I had to mobilise the family whenever the sirens went.

My brother was still at Grammar School, but was a Messenger Boy for the Air Raid Wardens whenever there was an air-raid warning.

On Thursday, December 12 my mother, my sister and I had been enjoying tea with the Duke family on Thirlwell Road when, around 7pm mum said it was time for bed so we went out to find it was the most wonderful moonlit night I had ever seen.

It was just like daylight and Shirley and I skipped along the road to the bottom of our passage when it happened.

The sirens went and the planes started to come over almost immediately.We dashed up the passage into the yard, down past the lower garden into the house, changed into our siren suits and dashed up the garden into the Anderson Shelter.

Grandad had always refused to use “that thing”.

If that stupid German thought he could tell HIM what to do, he had another thing coming! (Does that remind you of what some people are saying about how we are being asked to deal with this current Pandemic?).

So whenever the sirens went, Grandad joined the other men in the yard firefighting, using the one Stirrup Pump and each armed with a spade.

In a very short time things became horrendous, much of the action being in our area.

I learned later that the Luftwaffe had instructions to take our out Steelworks, but because of the intense moonlight, had followed the tramlines instead of the River Don and bombed the centre of the town all the way up through the suburbs to the Chesterfield area.

Heeley was badly dealt with because of the Railway station on Heeley Bottom.

My brother spent the night going round the area during all the bombing with his mentor and trying to make sure people were in shelters.

As you might know, some people refused to go into shelters, although after one of the first bombs hit Wolstenholme’s Celluloid Fatory at the top of Thirlwell Road, blowing up everything around it with the mightiest bang and lots and lots of shrapnel dropping all round, grandad suddenly appeared in the shelter and spent the rest of the night with us.

The bombings went on and on and you could hear from the sound of the bomb dropping whether it was near or a bit further away. It was difficult. The shelter was dark so mother couldn’t see my lips - so couldn’t ‘hear’ me, and grandad was too shocked by what was happening to do anything but stare into space, Shirley of course, slept through the whole thing.

Midnight came and went and things were beginning to quieten down when around 4am I heard a bomb dropping.

From the sound of it, it was coming straight for us. I started to crouch down saying over and over “Lord keep us safe this night, secure from all our fears. May angels guard us while we sleep, ‘til morning light appears” - and it landed with an almighty THUD.

The shelter lifted several inches out of its clay, but nothing else happened.

We later found that a plane carrying two large land mines was being followed by one of our fighters and he jettisoned the two in quick succession. One landed at the top of the View and the other at the bottom of our passage and they didn’t go off.But, of course, they could explode at any time, so once the all clear came, the Wardens came into their own.

All the houses down to ours were evacuated, all the houses up to ours were evacuated, but we were left at home provided we used the front rooms and didn’t go into the back.

This was difficult as the front room was the Holy of Holies. It was only used for Weddings, Funerals, Christenings and other important events and had the best furniture, etc.

All the cooking was done in the oven in the range in the living room, the kitchen was at the back and the toilets were way up the gardens, right at the top of the yard. All the water was cut off and we had to collect it from the water cart which came round twice a day. And we had a few animals deposited by our neighbours who had been evacuated.

We lived like this until the Sunday, when I trotted off to Sunday School but this time, instead of going down the passage and turning left to Thirlwell Road, I had to walk down the whole of the View, turn left on Heeley Bottom and walk up Thirlwell Road to the Chapel, only to find it had been bombed and was locked. Miss Knight arrived and we decided to go round to see if our friends were all right.

We started off at my best friend’s, Mary Neaverson. That family was OK and her older sister decided to accompany us on our travels. It was good to find that the people we visited had survived, but when we returned, we were stopped by the Warden from going up our part of Artisan View. “Everybody’s gone” he said. Miss Knight took on the fight, I started to cry so Mabel took me back to her house.

Miss Knight finally won the day with the Warden, who was most surprised to find my mother cooking the Sunday lunch. He had been knocking, but mother could not hear and my sister took no notice, so he assumed they had gone.

Mother had to pack quickly and accompanied Miss Knight to the Neaversons, where Mrs Neaverson took us in until it was safe to go home. I often wonder what happened to all the animals that had been left with us.

That night we had the second Blitz, but I found this easier that the first one. The shelter was full with Mr and Mrs Neaverson, Mabel, Mary and Dorry and my mother, myself and Shirley.

Grandad and my brother had been taken in by one of my uncles.

It was easier for me as most of the bombing was now on the steelworks area. Of course, now I realise that this was just as bad for them as it had been for us on the Thursday, but as a frightened 10-year-old, it was good to have Mrs Neaverson to talk to and it was good it wasn’t me being bombed.

I never forgot Mrs Neaverson’s kindness.

She didn’t know us as in those days we kids just walked to and from school on our own, there were no parent/teacher meetings and though we kids were good friends, the parents never met.

And, of course, it’s not too good to suddenly find that your house is invaded by a family you didn’t know, who all need feeding and rations meant that things were a little difficult.

My friendship with Mary has lasted all these years. Mary was 90 years old in April and I was 90 years old in July - both our celebrations have had to be postponed because of the pandemic and its difficult to plan for the future at our age, but hey - its something to look forward to in these sad days.

The Blitz did not end with the bombing. All the damage had to be sorted out and everything made as safe as possible, so there was a hive of activity from the beginning. All the shattered windows had to be boarded up so that the blackout could be sorted. This caused disaster to a friend’s family.

Margaret was the sixth child and had been born with one leg shorter than the other, so she had a really bad limp. Their house had suffered severe damage from the bomb on the celluloid factory and they had been re-housed in a lovely big house overlooking Meersbrook Park.

Her father was fighting with the Desert Rats and the Grandmother, Mother and six children moved in. Margaret was very excited because they now had ample room for all the family. Then, one day, she arrived at our house with very exciting news. She was to go into hospital next day to have an operation which would lengthen the short leg.

Alas, that night the house caught fire. The Grandma, and an Uncle home on leave managed to escape but the Mother and six children were all trapped in their bedrooms and, although the neighbours worked very hard, they could not break through the blocked up windows, so they all died. The Father was given compassionate leave to arrange for the funerals and The Star organised a collection to help pay the costs.

The same blast had torn a mature oak tree from its roots, carried it across the road and dropped it five or six houses down where it landed upright in Mrs Cadman’s kitchen. It looked as if had grown there and, although it meant she couldn’t use the kitchen, it was considered to be safe and left for several months. It became a sight for viewing for a long time as it looked like a picture from an old fairy story.The owners of all the shops that had been bombed in Town were soon organised. They moved into other buildings and started trading as quickly as possible. Walsh’s moved into their large house at Broomhill, The Brightside and Carbrook moved into the Playhouse and Marks and Spencer moved into the Cinema on Boston Street. I really remember this one as the floor slanted down to what had been the screen so all the counters slanted - it looked really surreal to a ten year old.

I’m not sure where the others went but I remember that we could still walk down the Moor and look in the windows of Atkinson’s and Roberts Brothers, but in different places. One of my pleasures as a child was to window shop on the Moor and Fargate as it was so very different to life at home. And standing outside Davy’s smelling the coffee being roasted stays with me for ever.I really do think that we all worked together at this time. We had a common enemy, everyone was involved, we didn’t have “counselling” but the neighbours all gathered together at each crucial time and made everything better.