I Remember Where I Was...

When war was declared

we were waiting for it:

Auntie Clarrie’s living room,

cousins and grown-ups round the wireless.

We’d been waiting a long time,

speculation and rumour.

Hitler’s tanks were made of cardboard.

On a country walk with cousins

Grandad told us if it came

they’d call it a World War;

Cynthia said it could be European.

Sure enough it came,
but through no sudden surprise attack,

Just a long slow slithering into war.

When Holland was invaded –

along with Belgium, Luxembourg –

I went with mum to a small-room,

one-woman hairdresser where

they spoke about it quietly.

It sounded serious but to me

just another step of many.

When Sicily was invaded

I heard about it from women

in the queue for buns and sausage.

We’d been sent that Saturday morning,

knowing there’d be something special.

Sicily wasn’t so special though.

“Not Italy, then?” “No, Sicily.”

When D-day landings hit the beaches

our geography teacher chalked

the Cherbourg peninsula on the blackboard,

drew arrows to suggest

which way the 2^nd Front would go.

We’d waited for that day, too –

never doubted which way it would go.

When victory came in Europe

we wondered, was tomorrow

the promised day off work?

We decided yes and stayed home.

No memories of bells, dancing in the streets,

but soon after came V.J. Day

which I spent playing cricket in the sun.

Stuart Randall

This poem is from Stuart Randall's latest collection "Growing Up in Wartime" and he still has a few copies at £5 (10% goes to WarChild). Ring Stuart on 01246 270533.