The Blitz Kids

By Alan John Bytheway

The bombs are beginning to fall over Britain but four young children, Boss, Brains, Muncher and Pip, are enjoying their freedom to play. The setting is Coventry, 1940. Little do the children know that before the year is out, they will be hoping to escape with their lives as they shelter from the blitz of November 1940. The children’s loyalty and togetherness is ever evident. One for all and all for each other. Pip is an absolute joy, Muncher is easy-going and a follower, Brains is just Brains, quick-thinking but prone to cause trouble. Boss is the leader of the group and is the central character around whom events unfold. Often in trouble but ever cheerful despite numerous health and school problems, he remained true to his friends and they to him. Read The Blitz Kids and you will experience a touch of sadness but also fun and joy, with children happy in each other’s company.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781786296238

Alan John Bytheway

Living in retirement in Addingham, West Yorkshire, the author is a former teacher and lecturer. As an eight-year-old child living in Coventry throughout 1940, he experienced the blitz first-hand. Without the vividness of his recollections, this book could not have been written.

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Eighteen

About the Author

Living in retirement in Addingham, West Yorkshire, the author is a former teacher and lecturer. As an eight-year-old child living in Coventry throughout 1940, he experienced the blitz first-hand. Without the vividness of his recollections, this book could not have been written.

Copyright Information ©

Alan John Bytheway (2021)

The right of Alan John Bytheway to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398400818 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781786296238 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

I thank my wife, Barbara, for her constant support and encouragement in the writing of this book. I also acknowledge my debt to Helen Edmondson for typing my manuscript. Despite numerous modifications and changes, she remained patient and helpful.

Chapter One

Paul Martin sat on the bonnet of a rusty, derelict car and looked around him with pleasure. He loved the pit. It was another world of thrills and surprises. Once a clay quarry, it was now a vast, unsightly dump. Where the quarry had been at its deepest, a deep pool of water had formed, dirty, brown, threatening. On three sides, treacherous red banks of clay dropped sharply downwards to the water’s edge. Fall in and there would be no escape!

The water always brought fear into Paul’s heart: only when amongst the rubbish did he feel truly secure. From cars to bedsteads, from factory waste to household junk, there was always something to hold his attention, to require investigation. Of the resident tramp there was no sign.

Ten years of age, Paul was a natural leader and his close friends called him Boss. Behind him he could hear Brains making racing car noises as he turned the car’s steering wheel from side to side. At the back of the car Muncher was busy trying to remove its badly rusted spare wheel, minus its tyre. Brains and Muncher were in the same class at primary school as Boss. At holiday time and at weekends the three boys were constant companions.

‘It’s a Singer Roadster,’ said Brains knowingly, having had a quick look at the radiator grille. ‘Must ’ave been a fast ’un before it got dumped.’

For general knowledge Boss couldn’t compete with Brains but occasionally he came up with odd bits of useless information, ‘Me dad says the City started off as the Singers factory team. Now they play at Highfield Road.’

Brains continued to imagine he was winning a road race. In his frustration at his failure to remove the spare wheel, Muncher was now aiming kicks at the rusting body shell. ‘You won’t find anything behind the wheel, if that’s what you’re looking for,’ Boss shouted, ‘And if you don’t watch out, you’ll get your foot stuck.’

Muncher hesitated, not having thought of either possibility. He then aimed another kick, this time at the wheel itself.

‘Temper, temper,’ said Brains, giving the steering wheel one last twirl. ‘Let me have a try.’

Brains was Jim Corner. To all his friends he was known as Brains because he always seemed to know more than anyone else. Muncher was Peter Mutch, known for eating quickly and sometimes noisily. Only Boss and Brains called him Muncher.

Boss slid from the bonnet. He wasn’t going to be left out of the wheel removing operation.

‘You need a wrench,’ advised Brains, ‘Me dad’s got one.’

‘That’s a lot of help,’ snorted Boss scornfully. ‘Let’s find a piece of iron.’

‘What’s a wrench?’ asked Muncher, looking puzzled.

His question was ignored as Boss and Brains began searching the surrounding rubbish for something more helpful than Muncher’s right foot.

‘This will do,’ said Boss, picking up a long sliver of rusting metal. Jamming it beneath the wheel, he levered hard. Promptly the wheel gave way. Falling to the ground it took with it a large piece of badly rusted bodywork, opening up a gap through which shot a large brown rat, vicious and angry.

Brains leapt to one side, finishing up spread-eagled on top of a badly torn mattress, sending thousands of feathers floating gently in the breeze. His glasses, stuck to his ears with tape, remained firmly in place. Muncher turned, started to run, but didn’t have Brains’ luck. Tripping over a length of rotting wood, he was thrown headfirst into a mass of oily springs from which he emerged looking like a motor mechanic in need of a good wash. Boss came out best. After jerking back with shock, he then remained motionless, too frightened to move. Afterwards he thought how brave he must have looked.

‘I know how that rat got in there,’ said Brains, looking wise. ‘Rusty holes underneath. I’ll bet he thought he was onto a good thing until Muncher began kickin’ away.’

‘It could’ve bitten me,’ complained Muncher, ‘and rat bites are dangerous. My dad says so.’

‘I don’t see what all the fuss is about,’ declared Boss. ‘Just stare ’em in the face and they’ll turn and run.’

Brains felt Boss was pretending to be brave. ‘Come off it, Boss. Muncher’s right. They can poison you and there’s another big ’un crawlin’ right up behind you!’

Boss whirled round as if a flesh-eating dinosaur was reaching out to him, realising too late that Brains was leg-pulling.

‘Rats can’t be completely bad,’ said Muncher, ‘because I’ve read of starving people eating them.’

‘That reminds me Brains. The fish and chip shop’s open, and it’s your turn to pay!’ said Boss, re-establishing his authority.

Leaving the pit, he paused to study the Coventry skyline. Proudly, he looked at a chimney which he’d been told was the highest in England. It was at the factory where his dad worked. Briefly, the chip shop visit was delayed so that Muncher could call at his home for a face wash. Muncher lived in the area’s one posh road, St Hilda’s. His dad even had his own garage and car! Two streets away lay East Street where Boss and his sister Pip lived. On the same street lived Brains.

Ten minutes later Brains was ordering three lots of chips with plenty of scratchings. Counting out his pennies, his mind was already on the next day. Bikes would be needed. Boss had said that they would be meeting at the bottom end of East Street, opposite the motor cycle showroom. Train spotting lay ahead. Their destination would be a main railway line within cycling distance. Packed lunches were not to be forgotten.

Tomorrow would be September the third, 1939, the last day of the school holidays. They would have to make the most of it.

***

Boss, cycling at speed, sped down East Street followed by Pip. Muncher and Brains were already waiting at the meeting point. Brains had propped his cycle against the kerb and was looking at a couple of gleaming silver and black motorbikes on showroom display.

Boss knew that Muncher wouldn’t be too pleased to see Pip. Boss thought he knew the problem. Muncher was jealous. Although she was a year younger, Phillipa Martin could run and cycle faster than Muncher and was a far superior swimmer. She also made Muncher cross when she pulled faces at him, something at which she was expert.

Train watching had been Mr Mutch’s idea. ‘Just collect the names and numbers of trains,’ he had suggested to his son, ‘and find out what you can about the different types.’ Muncher already had a long list of train names. Boss and Brains were trying to catch up. Pip was a first-time collector.

With roads almost deserted, strong pedalling against a light breeze took them to the LMS London to Glasgow