Forget the Celebrities: Read about MY Crazy Life!!!

My CRAZY Life: The Air Raid Shelters

Another unusual thing about our primary school was the existence of air raid shelters. Yes, we really did

have air raid shelters! Now this was the nineteen sixties that I am talking about, not the nineteen forties.

These rudimentary concrete structures had been hastily built during the early years of the Second

World War, to protect the schoolchildren from enemy bombs. Now sitting firmly entrenched at the

beginning and end of our playing field, these two shelters were a fascination to each and every one of us

- we loved them. We played around them on top and them and, sometimes, even inside of them.

Playing inside the air raid shelters was, however, expressly forbidden on orders from our headmistress,

Sister Alexis, and whilst most of the time we obeyed this rule without question, realising that it was

there for our own protection, occasionally, very occasionally, we were tempted to ignore this rule and

enter those fascinating shelters…

Built out of mass concrete, sitting low in the ground, these two structures were approximately twenty

feet in depth, twelve feet in height and, I’d hazard a guess, at least one hundred feet in length. After the

two shelters were built, molten tar was poured over the flat-topped roofs in a rather crude attempt to seal

out the elements, after which the excavated soil was heaped over the structures half burying them in the

ground. Now, twenty years on, the only soil still left surrounding the shelters was a small amount

resting against their sides. Most of the tar on the flat-topped roofs, however, was still in place giving a

soft comfortable surface for us children to play on.

With entrance gates, one on each end, protected by vertically standing slabs of concrete, the air raid

shelters were a magnet to us, one and all. On the days when we were bored of playing ‘IT’ and racing

our Corgi and Dinky cars down the dusty, sloping soil covered sides, our young minds were drawn to

the gates barring us from the mysterious interiors. These gates, although padlocked, were no obstacle

to us and it was an easy task for any child to pull one of them back, thus allowing our friends free

access through the opening. I can still remember my friend, Bernard Molloy, returning from one such

foray, saying to me, “Gerrard, there’s an underground tunnel connecting the two shelters…”

Other boys (and sometimes girls) returned from their own expeditions, telling of magical wonders

stashed beneath the shelters, wonders like giant pencils, huge ladders and, more frighteningly, signs of

someone actually living within in them. With each child returning, telling ever more incredible stories

about the hidden, mysterious interiors, my curiously continued to grow until I too had to make a sortie…

Although I had already made up my mind to enter one of the two shelters, I took my time in planning the

right moment to do it. There were so many things to be thought about, things such as which shelter to

enter - the nearest one close to the school building or the other one at the far end of our playing field.

Each shelter had its good and bad points to consider, points such as accessibility, dryness underfoot

(the far one had a habit of flooding during rainy spells), the time needed for the sortie, possibility of

sabotage by fellow pupils and, lastly, whether or not anyone was really secretly living within them. No, I

was not going to be hurried by anyone. That was my plan, to enter the air-raid shelter and find whatever

splendid treasure might lay hidden within. But as everyone knows plans have a habit of going wrong,

and mine was going to be no different…

It was three weeks later when I was finally ready to set off, and although I had decided to do it entirely

alone, my best friend, Robert Cooley, had insisted that he accompany me. He told me that he was

worried in case anything untoward might happen to me, but I secretly believed that he wanted to go -

just for the fun of it. Although I made protestations that I wanted to do it alone, I was secretly happy with

having a partner in my clandestine expedition…

It was a wonderful May afternoon, with a warm sun shining upon our backs as we made our way over to

the shelters. It was 4.15 pm, after school hours, and the playing field was totally deserted, but we still

had to be vigilant that no one saw us. We had decided upon the first, the nearest shelter, because the

other was still wet underfoot after the heavy spring rains we had experienced over the last week.

“Have you got the torch?” I asked Robert as he pulled back the gate allowing me entry.

“Yep,” he replied, switching it on, the strong white beam illuminating the shelter’s forbidden interior.

I took hold of the gate allowing Robert to squeeze his way through, then letting go of it, the gate banged

shut, the noise echoing far into the shelter’s mysterious interior. We were now on our own, with no hope

of help if anything were to go wrong.

I had planned to bring my own torch but, unfortunately, dad had caught me trying to take it out from his

tool shed. Where are you going, with that? He had yelled as I dropped it and ran down the garden path

without offering an answer. So we had only the one torch for our expedition - it would have to do.

The interior of the shelter was eerily quiet, so much quieter than during school hours when we had

already gone this far. Staring done the dark stairway, at the thirteen hard concrete steps which led to

the left turn leading into the forbidden interior, we wondered what lay ahead of us. Somewhere inside I

heard the sound of water dripping. Outside a lone dog howled mournfully.

Trying to gather my courage, I said, “Point the torch down there.”

Robert diligently obliged and the beam of light cast wavering quivering shadows on the dark walls. Were

his hands shaking?

I made my way down the thirteen steps, each footstep echoing far into the interior.

“Come on, Robert, let’s get on with this.” I urged.

“Are you sure that we should be doing this?” he asked, the shake of his hands having now travelled to

his voice.

“Of course we shouldn’t - you know that!” I hissed.

“Then, why are we doing it?”

I stared at Robert unable to understand his sudden concerns, then making my way back up the steps, I

said, “If you really want to leave, I will go on alone…”

Robert’s eyes grew wider.

“You would really do that?” he asked in total surprise. “And all alone?”

“Yes, of course,” I told him. “That was my original plan, remember?”

He nodded. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll do it…”

Smiling, happy that he was coming along, I said, “Come on then, we have treasure to find.” With that I

raced down the steps and turned left into the shelter proper.

“Wait for me,” Robert shouted as he followed me into the darkness.

Away from the entrance and all signs of daylight, the interior of the shelter took on an even greater

eeriness as the shadows created by Robert’s torch wavered and quivered relentlessly before us.

Struggling my way around three large dusty boxes that were blocking my route, I called out to Robert, “I

think I see something.”

“What is it?”

“I’m, I’m not sure. Point the torch over to your right, by the wall, will you?”

“There?”

“Yes, that’s it. Can you see it?”

Robert squinted hard, trying to make out the mysterious object, but it was simply to far away for him to

see properly, and he said, “I can see it but I haven’t a clue what it is…”

Pushing away more boxes, I suddenly tripped across something, something very heavy. “Ow,” I shouted

as a sharp pain seared across my shin.

“Are you all right?” Robert asked, pointing the beam of light over to me.

“It depends what your idea of being all right actually is,” I replied sardonically, sitting on a crate and

rubbing my shin in a vain attempt to ease the pain.

Stuttering, stammering in wild excitement, Robert tried to get my attention, but despite his best efforts I

had absolutely no idea what he was babbling on about.

“Calm down, will you?” I insisted, “I can’t imagine what had gotten into you, Robert.”

He tried to calm down - it took him a while but in the end he calmed down enough to speak clearly.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “The crate!”

“What crate?” I asked.

“The one you fell across, the one you are sitting on.” He said, pointing to it.

“Oh, that one,” I replied, feeling rather stupid.

Running my fingers across the makeshift seat that I was seated upon, I allowed them to search out

every nook and cranny. As Robert came closer, I stood up and we both inspected the crate, hoping it

was the treasure we were searching for.

“Look,” Robert whispered in anticipation, “there’s a hole in it.” He pointed to the rear of the crate.

I tried to turn it, but the heavy crate stubbornly remained fixed to the spot. It refused to budge even an

inch. Clearing away the accumulation of junk from behind it, I made my way around the crate, to see if I

could get a glimpse through the hole.

Crouching on the floor, I said, “Hand me the torch.” Pointing the light beam through the hole, I tried to

see what the crate actually contained. Disturbed by the light, a spider scampered out through the hole. I

jumped in fright.

“What was that?” Robert asked.

“It’s nothing,” I answered.

Barely audible, Robert whispered, “Can you see anything?”

Moving the torch about, hoping to get a better view, I pointed the beam of light downwards and then

upwards. Then standing up, and brushing away the dust, I said, “Hmm.”

“Hmm” - Is that all you can say?” Robert asked in a louder, less patient tone of voice.

“I was thinking…”

“Thinking?”

Yes.”

“This is like trying to get blood out of a stone,” Robert moaned in frustration at my ambivalent manner.

”Sorry,” I apologised when I realized how badly I was treating him. “I got carried away, you know how it

is?”

“No, not really,” said Robert, folding his arms in frustration “I have absolutely no idea what you are

talking about. Now are you going to tell me what’s in the create or do I have to take a look for myself?”

“A bell.”

“A ball?”

“No - a bell!”

“A bell?”

Yes, a school bell, to be exact,” I continued, “the biggest school bell that I have ever laid eyes on -

heaven knows how they intend to use it.”

Frowning, Robert pushed me aside. “Let me take a look,” he said. “Cor - you’re right, it is a bell,” he

agreed. “It must be the biggest bell in the whole world,” he added, getting carried away as was his habit.

“Hold on a minute,” he mumbled, his eyes so very close to the hole in the crate. “Ah, that’s it,” he

laughed. “Now I understand…”

I was intrigued. What could Robert have seen that I had missed?

Getting up, dusting off his clothes, Robert said, “It’s a bell all right, but not a hand bell - there’s a ring on

the top, to attach it to a building.

Again feeling rather stupid, I tried to pass it off, saying, “It’s a good job one of us is paying attention.”

Then changing the subject, I said, “Let’s take a look at that thing we saw by the wall…”

This time we both made our way over to it together, and finding the object, we laughed.

“It’s the giant pencil we were told about,” I said as I took hold of the pencil, and struggling under its

weight, handed it to Robert, “go on,” I said, “write your name with it.”

Grabbing the huge pencil, Robert attempted to write his name in the dusty floor. When he had finished,

he proudly proclaimed, “My name will be here forever…”

“And so say us of us,” I added, laughing

.

Over the following thirty minutes, Robert and I explored all the way through the old shelter. We never

discovered gold or treasure or, indeed, anyone living there. We were also unable to find any trace of the

tunnel connecting the two shelters together. No, apart from the large bell the only things we found were

the things that we already knew about.

As we made our way up the thirteen steps at the far end of the shelter, and our eyes grew accustomed

to the light shining in, I persuaded Robert to keep secret what we had discovered (or not) while inside.

I told him that instead of telling the truth to our friends, we were going to amaze them with a story of

how far we had managed to proceed along the tunnel connecting the two shelters. And we would have

gone further, perhaps even all the way to its very end, if we hadn’t been chased by someone - or

something – the second we came across a chest full of gold coins.

Yes, that was a far better account to be telling our friends, wasn’t it?

Are you wondering what happened to that huge bell in the crate? Well, all that I can tell you is that no

one ever saw it. But, then, with something lurking inside those air raid shelters, nobody ever ventured

inside again.

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I am the crazy-mad writer of children's stories,

songs, nursery rhymes and much, much more!

Gerrard T Wilson 2008