The Night we were Bombed

Nottingham was not a usual target for the German bombs during the war but on the night of 8th/9th May 1941 the sirens went and my father ushered us all into the cellar of our house for safety. We - that is my mother, father, 3 sisters and myself -all had beds down there and there was a light so we were quite confortable. We did not expect this night to be any different from all the others when we had been taken from our warm beds into the cold cellar. I was nearly 5 years old so all my memories are from the perspective of a young child but nevertheless are very vivid and real. One of my older sisters had gone out to the local dancehall for the evening and my oldest sister was getting married the following month to a young man who was in the army serving away so she was in the house with us. My mother was a talented seamstress and she had made beautiful bridesmaid dresses which were hanging in the front room and the wedding cake had been delivered by the Co-op bakery and was on the table in the same room.
We had 2 soldiers billoted with us because we had spare rooms but they too had gone out to the pub for the evening.
We had just got into the cellar when I looked up and the light started to sway and at the same time we could hear the bomb coming towards us and then there was a huge noise and the light went out. Our house had taken a direct hit. My father then took charge and checked that we were all O.K. and started to lead us up the stairs into the long passageway towards the front door. I remember very well feeling my way along the wall and the wallpaper had a sort of mock wooden pannel effect. We got out into the street and into the safety of the brick built communal air raid shelter in the middle of the street. From there we went to stay with some friends of my parents until we were rehoused. My parents must have had an agonising few hours as we heard that the local dancehall had been hit by the bombs and some of the girls had been killed but my sister was not hurt and had stayed at her friend's house overnight.
The following morning I ran away from where we were staying to find my mother and I have very strong memories of both of my parents picking over the rubble of what was left of our house. The front wall was still standing and the front room, although it was exposed to the elements was almost untouched. One of the billotted soldiers was asleep in the bed completely oblivious of the activities of the previous night having got quite drunk before returning home. The bridesmaid dresses were hanging on the picture rail, covered in dust but untouched. One of them had an orange up one of the sleeves which had been blown there from the force of the impact. The wedding cake had rubble on it but was duly dusted down and the wedding guests didn't seem to notice.
The bakery which had made the cake was bombed on the same night and there was a great loss of life of the men working on the nightshift and all the records were lost too. We never got the bill for the cake which according to stories passed down in the family was never paid for.
The house was eventually demolished and it is still plain to see where it stood. It is hard to conceive how our parents coped with such trauma but at least we all survived and have had long and happy lives.

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