Firewatching

By kind permission of the Author

Both our aunts were in the A.R.P.,
Initials on tin hats to tell us so.
With heavy, hooded torches, pointing down
To shine a tiny circle just below,
Out they went into the darkened streets.
Going to the outside lav, we’d see
The lovely “Bomber’s Moon” our Grandma feared.
She liked the lowering gloomy clouds that we
Found scary. Often, in the booming dark
She’s take a furtive peek outside and say,
“Incendiaries! The gasworks gone, I’m sure.”
We often thought that we would like to play
At firewatching. They let you up on the rooves
With buckets of sand. A seaside in the sky.
But when we asked if there were spades as well
They shook closed faces, wouldn’t tell us why.

‘This story was submitted to the People’s War site by BBC Radio Merseyside’s People’s War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his/ her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.’

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