The Journal

by John R McKay

  ‘Have you got any bread to go with that missus?’ came a voice, breaking Victoria’s train of thought.

  She looked down to see a young boy of around ten years old holding out a ceramic bowl, his arms outstretched. She was immediately reminded of the scene from Oliver Twist where the eponymous character asks for more, and smiled down at him.

  ‘I’m so sorry young man,’ she replied. ‘I’m afraid we have run out.’

  ‘Hardly the Ritz eh missus?’ he said as he took the food and walked away.

  Victoria could not help laughing. At least the children were keeping their spirits up. The innocence of youth still strong, she thought, all this a big adventure to them.

  An hour later she had packed up her things as she had decided to return to Kensington to get some sleep before going to the air raid shelter where she would continue with the routine she was now becoming used to. The tube trains were still running during the day to a point, and as there was so much destruction above ground and a lot of the roads were impassable it was still the easiest way to travel about the city. However, she had heard that some bombs had managed to penetrate the system and had caused massive devastation and loss of life. She shuddered to think about how vulnerable everyone was, no matter how safe they thought they may be.

  If she was honest with herself she enjoyed being a part of it all. She could so easily have sat in Suffolk, happily oblivious, living a life of luxury away from the real world and what was happening, and if Alexander had not behaved the way he had when she had found out that Gregory was gone, then that is probably where she would be right now. The one thing that she was relieved about was that Elizabeth had decided to spend more of her time with her friend Charlotte in the Yorkshire countryside away from all the danger. Francis was still undergoing training on Blenheim Mark IV bombers at a base in Norfolk and so far had managed to keep himself as safe as he could. However, she was constantly worried about him and understood that if she thought about the situation too much then she would make herself go mad. She tried to put what Francis was doing to the back of her mind.

  She finished placing her things in her bag and then set off to catch the tube train at East Ham Underground station. She hoped that there would be no delay as the fatigue she was feeling was beginning to have an effect on her. She had never felt so tired.

  As she closed the door of the rest centre behind her, which was a school hall that had been converted to house local displaced residents, she could see that the sky was already beginning to darken. Numerous orange glows filled the skyline casting an ethereal light across the evening sky, fires still burning from the previous night’s attack that firefighters were attempting to extinguish before the bombers returned to start the whole process all over again. Barrage balloons, secured to the ground by steel cables were silhouetted against the fading light, offering scant protection from the bombers, as did the anti-aircraft guns which had been placed on some of the taller buildings with their accompanying searchlights. Victoria was not sure how effective they were, but the distinctive sound of them firing their shells into the night sky was giving the population some sort of comfort, a reassurance that attempts were being made to fight back and protect them.

  This war was unlike any other. There had been a few Zeppelin raids during the last one but this was the first that had involved the civilian population to such an extent. The front line had been brought to the home front and every single person in London was affected by it, whether old or young, rich or poor, male or female. There were reports in the newspapers that other cities were being targeted too, but as to which they were they had been very vague. It could be guessed that what the press described as a ‘northern port’ or a ‘town in the Midlands’ would no doubt be the industrial centres of Liverpool and Birmingham. The war involved the whole country and although she did not wish harm to anyone, she was comforted by the fact that the capital was not alone. Where Hitler was failing totally, thought Victoria, was that he was not breaking the spirit of the people, he was doing quite the opposite. He was strengthening their resolve.

  She made her way down the steps of the station and along the walkway to get to the platform, passing those who were anticipating the warning sirens to get a favourite spot for when the bombs started to fall. Whole families were already making themselves as comfortable as they could for the night, despite it not yet being totally dark. She smiled at a young group but they ignored her and carried on placing their blankets, as though staking a claim to a particular area.

  It was not exceptionally busy on the platform and it was not long before a train pulled in. She had been quite lucky over the past couple of weeks as there had been no significant delays and she was able to get on the District Line from East Ham to South Kensington and then a short walk would get her home and to her bed. She was happy that she did not have to make any changes.

  She got on the train and sat down on a vacant seat. The carriage was half full and nobody took any notice of her as she sat down, placing her bag on her lap. She had never used the system until the war had come and she found it almost comical that nobody acknowledged anyone else whilst using it, everyone choosing to look out of the windows at the blank, dark walls, or read a book or newspaper rather than make conversation with their fellow travellers. It was as though to attempt to engage with someone would be seen as incorrect etiquette and so she had succumbed to keeping herself to herself whilst she was using the system.

  She used the time, when alone in the crowds, to think about her life and what had become of her. Although she now lived in constant danger, she had never felt such personal contentment in all her adult life. She had not seen Alexander for weeks, Elizabeth was safe and well and Francis was away from danger for the time being. She finally felt useful. She did not care what Alexander or his cronies thought about her being in the W.V.S. In her opinion everyone needed to do their bit to aid the war effort, even something as minor as assisting those poor souls who had been displaced by the bombing. She knew that those she was helping appreciated her efforts and that was what gave her such pleasure.

  The only sad thing that had happened to her was the fact that she did not know what had become of Gregory. He had not been confirmed as dead, only missing, and like Elizabeth had said, until there was a definite message that he had lost his life then there was always hope that he was still alive. It was this hope that she clung onto every day.

  After five minutes, the train pulled into Bow station and the doors opened. Some from the carriage exited and a handful of people who were standing on the platform got on. She looked over and could see that here too, some people were already settling down to take shelter from the inevitable German raid that was to come shortly. She continued to people watch, sitting content in her own thoughts. She thought of Edwina and smiled to herself. Eddie had become an A.R.P. warden and was out almost every night because of her duties, sleeping whenever she got the chance. They seemed to pass like ships in the night recently. Although she was extremely proud of her, Victoria was also very worried, as Eddie had to remain above ground during the raids and had come close on more than one occasion to getting herself either killed or seriously injured. So far she had been lucky but three of her colleagues had been killed a week ago, along with five firefighters when a parachute mine had exploded at the end of the street where they had been working. Victoria shuddered to herself. She did not know how she would manage without her wonderful friend and ally by her side. Eddie was her rock and always had been.

  For five minutes the train stood still, not moving, before a policeman entered the carriage. ‘I’m sorry folks but the train can’t go any further. There’s a UXB further down the track that must have broken through last night. It’s probably been there all day with trains driving past it. We’ve sent for the Bomb Disposal squad but it’ll be some time before they get here.’

  ‘But how will we get home?’ said a middle aged woman sitting near to the door.

  The policeman looked at her wear
ily. ‘Not really my problem, love,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to work that out for yourself.’ He turned and walked away, on to the next carriage to give them the news that they would have to walk for the remainder of their journey.

  Victoria stood up and moved toward to the door. The middle aged woman looked at her, her expression worried and nervous. ‘The Germans will be here soon,’ she said. ‘I can’t go up top here. This is where they keep dropping the bombs. I could be killed.’

  Hearing this, a young man who was behind her said. ‘So could we all, love. You’ll just have to get on with it like the rest of us.’ He walked past her and towards the exit not looking back.

  ‘If you’re so worried then you could stay down here, in the station for the night,’ suggested Victoria pleasantly.

  ‘I can’t do that, my Harry will wonder where I am. He worries so much about me.’

  Victoria suddenly felt very tired. She did not have time to get involved with her, no matter how much she felt sorry for the woman, and so she left her standing on the platform facing her dilemma and followed the young man to the exit. On her way out she looked at an Underground map. If she made her way to Bethnal Green, which did not look too far away, she could then get on the Central Line to Notting Hill Gate. From there it would be a short walk home. Victoria was now convinced that the Germans dropped some of their bombs knowing they would not explode, to cause maximum disruption after the raids and inconvenience the population, tying up the resources that were needed to disarm them or blow them up with controlled explosions. They took so many civil defence workers away from their main duties that she was certain this had to be an intended strategy.

  She reached the exit and was faced with a scene that she could only describe as utter devastation. The smell of burning filled the air and there was a smoky haze in the near distance. Buildings lay in ruins, craters filled the streets and glass and rubble were strewn indiscriminately all around. There seemed to be hardly a building left undamaged. Piles of bricks, plaster and roof tiles lay everywhere, strewn haphazardly across the roads and pavements, mixing dangerously with shattered glass from broken window panes.

  Fifty yards further up the road a house had been ripped apart by a high explosive bomb and had opened up the building to the elements. Victoria could see that the upstairs bedroom was exposed, the gable end having fallen away into the street to reveal a picture of normality which seemed at odds with its surroundings. Bright blue wallpaper filled the three remaining walls and a white baby’s cot untouched and unmoved by the explosion that had destroyed the rest of the house stood against one of the walls. Victoria thought immediately of the baby and hoped that it was safe. The roof was half hanging off, beams and masonry suspended precariously over the road, where a group of people were busy working, removing rubble into buckets in the hope of finding someone still alive. They were either oblivious to or uncaring of the danger a few feet above their heads that could fall upon them at any moment. Victoria thought that they must have been working all day as the all clear had sounded over twelve hours ago and it would not be long before the Germans came back to start the whole process again. She realised at that moment that this was the proudest she had ever felt of her fellow countrymen and tears filled her eyes.

  Her route took her past the house and she stopped beside an A.R.P. warden who was stood surveying the scene as firemen, rescue workers and ordinary members of the public, maybe friends, neighbours or even family members, worked desperately to get the rubble and debris away. ‘Are there still people inside?’ she asked.

  He turned to look at her, only noticing her after she had spoken and then looked back towards the house. ‘It looks like it,’ he said. ‘We can’t account for the woman and one of the children. Someone thought they heard something earlier so we’re trying to find them.’

  ‘This is terrible,’ she replied. ‘Was the baby OK?’

  The warden looked up at the bedroom and replied, ‘Yes, she’s OK. With the father at the hospital apparently. He’s gone with his young lad who was in a bit of a bad way. He’s no idea about his wife and their eldest boy. That’s who they’re looking for.’

  Victoria continued to watch for a few minutes. She so wanted to join in with the rescue efforts but knew that she would be more of a hindrance than a help as she was so desperately tired. The warden looked at her and noticed the bags under her eyes. ‘You look done in love,’ he said. ‘You look like you could do with some sleep.’

  Victoria smiled at him. ‘So could many others.’

  They stood in silence for a while. Victoria knew that she should really be continuing on her journey home but she felt that she could not leave the scene. She felt it would be an abandonment.

  ‘The problem you see,’ said the warden, ‘is not just the rubble and the roof coming in. I’ve seen so many lost through drowning.’

  ‘Drowning?’ asked Victoria, puzzled.

  ‘Yes,’ he explained. ‘Only three days ago…no four days. A whole block came down just off Roman Road. There was a whole family trapped inside, a man, woman and four kids. All of them had survived the blast and the building collapse and we managed to pull out three of the kids. But the rest of them perished, all drowned. You see the water pipes had burst and filled the small air pocket they were in. There was nothing we could do. We just couldn’t get there in time.’

  ‘Oh dear God!’ said Victoria, the tears now rolling down her cheeks. She wiped them away, embarrassed. He looked at her again noticing, but said nothing.

  ‘It’s quite common, so I’ve heard,’ he said eventually. ‘Been happening all over. And the gas mains too. They give the same kind of problem.’

  ‘It can’t go on forever.’

  ‘Can’t it?’ asked the warden turning to her. ‘How long has it been going on for now eh? Five weeks? Six weeks? And there doesn’t seem to be any let up. I sometimes wonder how they manage to get through each night. I thought the R.A.F. had supposed to have taught them a lesson.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not as simple as we think,’ said Victoria. ‘I’m sure they are doing all they can. In fact I know they are. My son is with them.’

  He looked at her and smiled wryly, ‘I didn’t mean anything by that, missus. They are very brave to do what they do.’

  The light was beginning to fade further as the afternoon made way for early evening. Victoria said goodbye to the warden and turned away. He did not reply but kept his eyes focused on the rescue workers as they continued to toil tirelessly in their quest to find the missing people.

  She walked along Roman Road towards the tube station, stepping over bits of masonry and broken glass which seemed to litter her path like millions of tiny diamonds, reflecting back the light from the fires that still burned along her route. Children could be seen playing amongst the fallen buildings, unaware of the dangers that this madman’s playground contained. She frowned to herself as she watched them. Where were their mothers? Were they dead? Was that the reason the children were out here on their own? She did not want to think about it and continued walking.

  Bethnal Green tube station was still open, she was pleased to see, and so she went down to the platform to try again to get herself to the relative safety of Kensington. She was surprised that, as yet, the West End had been let off lightly, but could not see that situation remaining the same for much longer. Privilege did not necessarily grant you immunity to the falling bombs as the King and Queen had recently found out. Buckingham Palace had been hit, not too badly, but hit nevertheless and so the Royal family could empathise with their subjects. They had been touring the bomb sites, as too had Churchill, to offer some comfort to those who had lost their homes and possessions and these visits were mainly met with gratitude and the acknowledgement that everybody really was ‘in it together’, even the nobility. However, she had overheard someone say, whilst in a shelter a few days ago, that it was not really the same for them. They had not lost everything, their homes, all the things that they had saved a lifetime to collec
t, furniture, clothing, photographs. They had other homes they could quite easily move to. Nobody else could.

  Luckily the trains were still running and ten minutes later Victoria found herself sitting next to a portly gentleman in a carriage as it hurtled through Liverpool Street, Bank and Holborn on its way to Notting Hill Gate and the comfort of her own home.

  As she walked along Kensington High Street, some minutes later, she was able to compare the distinct difference between the two sides of the capital that she had witnessed along her journey. She looked back and observed the glows from the fires that seemed to be perpetually burning in the East End and then looked around at the shops and properties that remained as yet untouched, as though the war did not involve this part of the city.

  She let herself into the house and took off her coat and hat and placed them on the hat stand in the hallway. None of the servants were around and she was quite glad of that. She felt uneasy allowing people to cater for her every need when only a very short time ago she had witnessed people who had been left with nothing. It was not right at all and she knew that this war would change everything. Society could never be the same again. Barriers would be broken down between the classes. But then she countered her own argument. Wasn’t that supposed to have happened after the last war? The ‘war to end all wars’ as they had called it, she thought ironically.

  As she approached the sitting room she was met by Edwina who was dressed in her A.R.P. uniform coming the opposite way. She looked flustered and Victoria was slightly alarmed.