Moaning Minnie

There she goes, moaning Minnie off again, the hated sound of the air raid siren came screeching on that dark freezing night just two days before we were to celebrate Christmas 1940.

I was a mere child of nine years but I remember being at my Grandfathers house in Ancoats, and going across the street into the shelter at Lawsons Mill in Elizabeth Street. My mam, little sister and I were waiting for my Dad to call on his way home from work. In the shelter all the locals had their own particular spot.

We could hear the gunfire and bangs throughout the night. I remember asking my mam “when is Dad coming?” She just said “as soon as he finishes work.” I knew that he should have been finished hours ago.

It was daylight when we emerged from the air raid shelter and as we made our way back home from granddads’ house we saw my dad turn the corner, he was covered in dirt and there was a burning smell to his clothes. He had been on the roof of the hotel where he worked, putting out incendiary bombs. He was carrying a brown paper bag with his shirt in it and also a metal dish off a weighing machine. My Mam asked “What are you doing with that”. He replied “There wasn’t any tin hats so I used it to keep the shrapnel off my head!”
Tom Connor