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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Thelma Sharman of the CSV Â鶹¹ÙÍøÊ×Ò³Èë¿Ú Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of Dorothy Stafford, nee Atkins, and has been added to the site with his/her permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions,

Tea saves the day as usual

When the air-raids started in Coventry in the Second World War I was just 14 years old and most children were evacuated.
My two brothers and myself stayed at home to take our chances. The school closed because of the war and I got a job at a café on the London Road, going home to Courthouse Green to spend nights in an Anderson shelter and there was no respite from nightly raids.
On the morning following the blitz on November 14th. 1940 my brother and I set off to walk to work and there was no transport — tramlines bombed, craters everywhere, one directly ahead of us.
We heard a shouted warning so we crossed the road. The bomb exploded, the glimpse of the Paradise Post office rising into the air then disintegrating into a pile of rubbish I will never forget.
We found ourselves lying face down on the pavement and a block of concrete landed between us. When we’d recovered from the shock we set off again. The city centre had been heavily bombed, buildings destroyed and burning. Making detours we finally reached our workplaces. When I arrived there was no water. People were walking into the café dazed and shocked, their homes had been bombed and they couldn’t find their families.
One young lady had lost six members of her family, mum, dad, sisters and brothers, when a public shelter in Warwick Row had a direct hit and all in it were killed.
I went to a standpipe at the bottom of Gulson Road hill with a bucket and queued for water which slowly dribbled through. So we were able to boil some on the coal fire to make tea for some of those poor souls. The Home Guard man came and they were taken away to be looked after in church halls or schools that were still standing.
That night I didn’t get home as I was taken with my boss and her family out to Copsewood for safety, where a kind lady, a complete stranger, took us in for the night and we slept on her lounge floor.
Arriving home the following night I learned my granddad’s house had been destroyed. Aunty had taken shelter under the kitchen table. My uncle rescued her, moving brick by brick with his bare hands. Apart from a nasty wound on her leg and shock she was alright.
At a later date the sirens went as I was going to work. The German aeroplane swooped low over the street where I walked, running in sheer panic I heard a voice say ‘come in here me duck’ so I took shelter in the covered jetty ( passageway) between some old houses. Seconds later the Germans dropped their bomb onto a tram in town killing and injuring many people on their way to work.
Overriding all these dark days was the wonderful comradeship, spirit and sense of humour of the people of Coventry. It taught us to make the best of every situation.

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