On one day when I had just arrived at grandma's the siren screamed: air-raid! Grandma took her old small suitcase and me by the hand, then we ran through the streets. People poured from all sides in the direction of the bunker. Mothers with small children and prams, many old people. At the entrance to the bunker we had to go down many levels. Young men in uniform were helpful.We often arrived late and therefore, sat near the entrance. Then the first bombs fell. Water dripped from the ceiling and after each detonation earth came down from the entrance. Grandma prayed the rosary. I looked around. The bunker was an underground passage with further corridors off to the side. It was like a vault built out of red bricks. There were boards on the floor, because water penetrated the bunker. There was emergency lighting fastened on to the ceiling which flickered when the bombs struck. A great restlessness prevailed. Continual muttering and whispering. Children crying, mothers rummaging about in the things they had brought, changing babies' nappies, trying to comfort the little ones.Grandma always held my hand firmly. Despite wearing a coat it became cold. The cold damp air in the cellar slowly crept over me. After what seemed an endless time, the sirens howled a long tone, the "all clear". We could therefore go home again.

It was the first time that I had been in the city directly after an air raid. Almost all houses were destroyed. Only the remnants of walls, that burnt and smoldered, still stood. Charred wooden beams protruded. Mountains of debris and rubble towered above the streets. The air was filled with a strange smell.Grandma sought a way through the debris. It took us through the cemetery, which was just like a cratered landscape. Everywhere there were holes from the bombs. In between there were burnt or uprooted trees and shrubs, and grave stones that had been knocked over. Grandma kneeled in front of a hole and prayed. That was probably Auntie Greta's grave. Grandma's oldest daughter, Greta, had died from tuberculosis at the age of 21. I stood there, at some distance, as stiff as a poker. To me it was eerie. The cemetery was covered with such holes. I didn't dare look into a hole. For sure I would see an arm or a leg from a body. Never in my life was anything so horrifying to me. Boy, was I glad when grandma finally moved on.

The route through the mountains of rubble was very arduous. Grandma whined softly, for we were coming nearer and nearer to the house in which we lived. No doubt she feared that something terrible had happened. I was quiet, this uncertainty made me fearful too. But out of the field of rubble, our house stood like a solitary tooth."We are going first just to my place." said grandma, "It is only a few meters." The house in which grandma lived stood at the end of another side of the road. It was a big gray house, a real monstrosity. As if by a miracle, so far it had not been hit. As we approached closer, we saw that only a half of the house still stood. It looked like a big doll's house that had been cut in two. From outside on the street, one could see the single room with the different wallpapers, the remaining furniture, the drapes, and grandma's bed. I found it very interesting. The heavy stove however had fallen into the cellar. Now grandma was bombed-out! She still possessed only that which she was wearing, and the contents of the suitcase which she had with her. All her remaining possessions lay under the giant mountain of rubble, and were irretrievably lost. We went slowly to the house. Grandma now moaned incessantly, with tears.

Mother was very excited when we were finally home. How can you go into the bunker with the child? I have told you a hundred times you should come here into our cellar. That is more safe. I don't understand you. Then you run with the child through the entire city to the bunker. To our place it is only a few steps."Anni, I have been bombed out.", said grandma softly. Mother, shocked, looked at grandma. "I hope you have your papers and good clothes in your suitcase". Unfortunately grandma had brought only a few old things with her. That really set off the fireworks.

Translated from the German by John Milloy ( nimso@aol.com )

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