A Day in Life During the London Blitz

AURA MORTIMER

November 20, 1940, I remember the good old days, when I would go visit my grandmother in the countryside on the outskirts of London. It was about a 30 minute train ride to her house. A few minutes off the main road and it felt like a completely different place. Instead of tall brick buildings, overgrown green grass grew everywhere. Outside, the fields lay beneath a purple and pink evening sky. Full-blooded, pink flowers danced gracefully in the cool summer  breeze, surrounding the pale white fencing leading to the main entrance. The yard's well tended apple trees stood protectively between the front door and the luscious green ivy crawled across the stone wall. Off to the left were the deeper woods that Maggie, my little sister, and I used to explore. 

Our Grandmother would pack us a little knapsack containing two scones neatly wrapped in burgundy red cloth, and a tiny bottle filled with strawberry jam. Maggie and I would wander into the deep, dark green forests and run around all day exploring. We would craft little dolls out of sticks by the creek, wander around the trees pretending we were lost princesses, and nap by the pristine wildflowers. This has always been a favorite childhood memory of mine.The last time I went there it was way different. Maggie and I tried to go out in the countryside and saw spitfires flying overhead. It no longer felt safe. The protective apple trees leaned sadly against the door. The once dancing flowers, sulked around the dusty grass. And the once clear blue skies, now growled down on the city, their burnt orange sky flickering on and off. The city wasn't any better. Citizens were forced into shelters. Anderson shelters were free and ment for low income people, while underground shelters were a nicer living situation.V1 bombs were dropped nightly, thousands died every day. The only hope that remained came from the strong, will minded people who risked their life daily. My father was one of these people. After Hitler’s order to stop attacking the royal air force and move onto the civilians, many were required to start manning lights, drive ambulances, work as nurses, and play whatever role they could in protecting their  country. My father did his part in all of this by operating huge spotlights to see the  Nazi Stukas.

1 month ago.

“Papa!” I cried. “My Princess,” he said. My real name is Isabel but I don't mind the nickname.  He picks me up and twirls me around the small underground shelter. My head almost hits the top of the iron roof. For a minute I'm smiling and then the same reality hits me. Every hug I share, every moment I'm with him, it could be my last. I feel like I can't trust anything or anyone anymore. I’m by myself. “I missed you so much” “And I missed you too”. Papa’s shift is finally over. I breathe a deep sigh of relief and go over to get Papa some water. There is only a dribble of water left. As if god heard me say that the siren goes off. Papa and I both look at each other in agreement. Since day one, Papa and I don't even need to talk to each other, we can almost read each other's minds. 

Maggie is tucked cozily in bed and probably won't wake for another few hours. Although we could choose to wait, Papa’s job will start soon, and I want to hangout with him so I agree to go out. Outside the shelter dust fills the air. Dead bodies rot in the street. The sky grumbles, as a strike of lighting hits. A few moments pass, and it looks like we're never gonna get to the store. I suddenly hear the sound of the siren going off. The Germans are back. My heart starts pounding faster and faster as if it's gonna leap out of my chest. Papa and I run back towards the shelter but it's too late. I can tell a V1 bomb is coming. Those are easier to detect. I realize that there's no going back to the shelter. And there's  a 1 in 100 chance we will still be around in 5 minutes. `

Papa throws me to the ground and covers my small, tiny body with his. My eyes close. The world becomes a pure sound. The roar of the airplane engines, the beat of my heart, the screaming sounds of people. A V1 bomb had exploded right next to me. I frantically opened my eyes. Dust fills my throat and cloggs my lungs. I take big gulps of air struggling to breathe. My bloody cracked hands feel around for my father. I find him to the right of me. His dark brown hair is filled with blood, and his chest looks like a pool of blood increasing by the second; probobly from the impact of the bomb. “Papa” I croak. He replies with a soft “I'm here”. I can tell something is off. I gradually try to pull him up, but his body sags down. I put his arm around my shoulder and tried to walk to the nearest shelter. “Please Papa, just try to move”. I hear the sound of another bomb coming “Please Papa I beg you, we have to move faster”. “Isab-bbella, I'm too weak to make this.” “NOO Papa!” I cry, “ just a few more steps' '. “You don't understand, I can't move anymore, I won't”“No i scream back at him’ tears filling my dusty eyes. I won't accept it, I just won't. Papa grabs my hand, and looks me in my eye. “I love you Isabella. I'm not going to make it, but I just want you to know how proud of you I am”. With that, he lets go of my shoulder and slowly falls to the ground. With the last of his words, he says “run Princess''. I won't. I start sobbing. Pain overflows my whole body like a bucket of acid. I feel my eyes going in and out of vision. The only thing I can think of is my Papa. Since day one my Papa has been there. My mom died when I was only an infant, so I've only had my dad. Now I don’t have my dad. I try to move, thinking of the last happy memory in my brain, Maggie. I adjust my feet but it feels almost impossible. I see a bolt of lightning dancing around the sky. I smell toxic gas. I hear the V1 bomb dropping. I taste dust. I feel numb, then I see black.