8 May 1945

On VE Day we were still living in London
When I saw for the first time folks having fun
Shouting and clapping, waving flags on high
As an eight year old didn’t fully know why
But I joined in dancing nearly all night long
Crying and laughing between every song.
Prisoners of war joined us round the fire singing
Their deep, rich voices blending and bringing
Wonderful harmony that enhanced the praises
And brought even more joy to everyone’s faces
For at long last we have the victory
After so many years of tragic misery
Life would return to us all once more
To how our lives were before the war
But normal life as it had been long ago
Was delayed for sorting things out was slow
Rationing of food still very much here
And lots of bombed sites they had to clear.

My family left London to live by the sea
But playing on the beach was not to be
For barbed wire was stretched along the prom
Fear too that there might perhaps be a bomb
So although victory was declared in forty-five
And we were all glad to be alive
It would be many years before things were right
And children stopped having bad dreams at night
Months before we would all have release
Of hearts and minds that could rest in peace.

Ruth Jessup

A Wartime Childhood

Memories long forgotten
Flood back into my mind
Thoughts and feelings from long ago
That I thought I’d left behind.

The damp, earthy smell of the shelter
Even in summer there was a chill
The hardness of the wooden bench
I can feel those thin slats still.

Wrapped in threadbare blankets
Worn thinner year after year
The nights were very long and cold
Interspersed with dread and fear.

For even in the depths of the shelter
We could hear the siren sound
Then the throb of low-flying bombers
As they dropped their bombs to the ground.

We silently lay in the darkness
Everyone holding their breathe
Would this be the night when we took a hit?
Destruction. Injury. Death!

Sometimes the raids would last a long time
And everyone awoke
The parents would cuddle their children
But hardly anyone spoke.

We all just sat listening and waiting
Longing for the welcome ‘All Clear’
We’ve managed to survive another night
The new day was nearly here.

As early dawn-light crept through the cracks
Of the long-closed wooden door
Dust from the devastation outside
Formed patterns across the floor.

We picked up our meagre belongings
And blinking moved into the day
Only to find our homes were blitzed
We’re alive but have nowhere to stay.

Ruth Jessup

War Symphony

The wailing of sirens
The throbbing of engines
The crashing of bombs
Falling of rubble
The symphony of war.

The horror of the air raid
Death in the blackout
Devastation of buildings
Destruction of homes
The symphony of war.

The whistling of fire bombs
The smell of burning
The roaring of flames
Screaming of engines
The symphony of war.

The crying of babies
The sobbing of children
The silence of women
Beating of fearing hearts
The symphony of war.

FINALE
The rejoicing of victors
The hugging of friends
The surging of spirits
Exhilaration of freedom
The symphony of war ends.

Ruth Jessup

Centenary Thoughts Of War

They tell me
Birds sang in the trees
Swaying fields of barley
Red poppy- strewn
Gently swayed
In the gentle breeze.
Beautiful butterflies
Fluttered
Along the banks
Of the River Somme.

On the first of July, 1916
This tranquil landscape of splendour
Became desecrated for all time.
Thousands of young men
Victims of a war
Intended to end all wars
Fell.
Died.
Soaked the land with their blood.

Today
The undulating fields remain
Yet changed for ever.
Only white standing stones
Bear witness to the massacre
Their whiteness denying the blackness
Of that horrific time.
Birds still sing
Butterflies sip nectar again
The river continues to flow
But my grandfather
My paternal grandfather
Lies for ever buried
Soil-covered in a foreign land.

I wonder.
I ponder.
Is this why France
Is so dear to my heart?

Ruth Jessup

Postwar

Standing at the edge of the land
Gulping down fresh sea air
Holding tightly to my father’s hand
I stare in awe at the ocean there.

I am eight years old but have never seen
Or smelt such purity
As much of my time has been spent underground
With no sense of futurity.

Now London and dark war thoughts are gone
Although barbed-wire reminders are here
We cannot yet go on the beach and have fun
For there are still many mines to clear.

I listen to the gentle waves
Lapping the shingle shore
During the war I had never heard
Such a soothing sound before.

My eyes sweep over the water
I am trying to think it through
“Does the sea stop when it reaches the sky
Where the green touches the blue?”

“No my child that’s the horizon
The sea flows much further away.
I was totally overawed by this thought
Mindful eyes were opened that day.

The horrors of war were left behind
The weeping and fear were past
I looked. I listened. I understood.
I was free! I was free at last!

Ruth Jessup