No Serenade
Oonah V. Joslin


 I worked in munitions by day and the A.R.P. First Aid Station at night.  I was tired to the bone but I still managed to go dancing when I was, ‘In the Mood.’  In 1940 Glen Miller ruled and as my mother would say, “Why sleep?  You’re a long time dead.”   

19:20 the first flares dropped.  I felt the dreadful thrum and drone of Heinkels echo through my stomach.  Every impact pitted the ground.  Mains water bubbled up useless.  Hell licked at buildings and cracked blood stained glass.  We just prayed and did what we could.  

20:00, the cathedral took its first hit - lit up like a giant votive candle.  God must have been a bit overwhelmed by wave after wave of Luftflotte because he didn’t retaliate.  

Bletchley had apparently got wind of something called Moonlight Sonata but nothing to indicate place, so Coventry burned all night.  Over five hundred bombers!  Of course we couldn’t possibly know that.   

Maybe I did sleep.  I don’t remember ever hearing the all clear.  Anyway, everything’s peaceful now.


First published: February, 2009
comments to the writer: doorknobsandbodypaint@gmail.com