It took a few seconds for me to absorb that it was over and I could finally stop squeezing Dottie’s and Viv’s hands.
The old lady in the tattered coat was the first one near us to stand up. She handed back the helmet that had been loaned to her, brushed herself off, and walked away.
Other British civilians in the station followed suit. With looks on their faces like they were mildly embarrassed about the trouble, they dusted off their knees, said calming words to their children, and left the station to go about the rest of their day in their battered city.
Most of us who had just arrived from the US weren’t holding up quite so well. The complexions of many of the young soldiers nearby had turned ashen in the aftermath of the bombing. One soldier crouched with his knees to his chest, his helmet covering his entire face as he stifled a sob.
Blanche had pulled out a cigarette and was trying to light it, but her hand was shaking so much she couldn’t quite get the flame near enough to catch. Martha leaned over and tried cupping her hands around the lighter to help, but hers were shaking too, so it was hopeless. My heart was racing, and for the first time I considered taking up smoking. Anything to calm the jumpiness. I was sure I was wearing the same shocked expression as Viv and Dottie.
Only Frankie Cullen seemed completely composed, studying the scene around us like she was taking mental notes. She jumped up and started gathering her gear with an efficiency and earnestness I found annoying.
“Those buzz bomb jitters you’re feeling?” Judith Chambers said, projecting her voice for all the Red Cross girls that were remotely within earshot. “It’s normal—happens to everyone the first couple of times. I promise that will stop after a while.”
She stood up and took off her helmet. “You won’t even think about them after a few days. Come on now, make sure you have all of your things. It’s time to head over to Park Street and get you all settled.”
We all came out of our hiding spots, picking up our gear and once again heading out of the station. Weighed down by our gas masks, helmets, and everything else we were carrying, we looked like a bunch of droopy chicks, shocked and exhausted, as we followed Miss Chambers, our mother hen. I couldn’t even speak for several minutes; the rest of the girls were silent too. It was our first up-close encounter with a war that we’d previously only known from the newspapers and radio.
“I need a drink,” Viv said, breaking the silence as she chewed on her thumbnail. It was something she did only when she was nervous, a rarity for her.
Blanche laughed, put her arm around Viv’s shoulder, and said, “Oh, sweetheart, we’re all getting a drink after this baloney.”
As we walked, I kept looking back toward the other side of the station, where the glass had shattered from the bomb’s impact beyond it. Our train had arrived on one of the tracks on that side just an hour before. It was sheer luck that we hadn’t been pulling into the station when the bomb struck. I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and realized my hands were shaking too.
“Well, that would have been a hell of a way to go,” Viv said, as if reading my thoughts. “Get all the way over here and then bite the dust on the first day?”
“No kidding,” I said. “I still can’t believe that just happened. You okay over there, Dots?” She was walking next to us with her head down.
“Yes, I was just thinking about what my parents would say,” she said, her voice a whisper. “You remember how furious they were. They were so against me doing this with my brother already in the Pacific. This is not something I’m going to write home about.”
This time, when we walked outside under the enormous arches of Euston Station, the London air smelled acrid, and an ominous-looking tower of dark smoke billowed from the other side of the building. We all looked up at the sky as we walked, listening for the siren to start up again.
Seeing that most of us were still traumatized, Miss Chambers kept talking as we went, raising her voice so that most of the group could hear her.
“Buzz bombs are V-1s. Pilotless bombs with motors,” she said, in a matter-of-fact way that was unnerving. “The Germans launch them from the coast of France. They resemble small airplanes, and the tail end burns a steady bright light. When the motor cuts off, the bomb either falls straight down and explodes or drifts on awhile before falling and blowing up. One thing you learn quickly is that you’re safe as long as you can hear the motor. The good news is, a buzz bomb destroys the object it hits, but not much around it.”
“My neighbor told me about the buzz bombs in one of his last letters to me; he called them doodlebugs,” Martha said. “People have been leaving the city in droves because of them. Be happy that we’re only going to be in London for eight days.”
“That feels like an awful long time if there are going to be bombs constantly dropping,” Dottie said, looking like she was on the verge of tears again.
“Miss Chambers?” I said, raising my voice as we were walking several feet behind her. “How frequently do the buzz bombs strike?”
“They’ve been coming in increasing numbers this summer for sure, which is why so many women and children have been evacuated to the countryside,” she said in a no-nonsense tone. “They usually come at night, though. Starting tomorrow night, after you’ve unpacked and settled in, you’ll work in shifts of two girls at a time, watching for V-1s from the rooftop so you can warn everyone else to take cover if one is incoming.”
“Seriously?” Blanche piped up. She and Viv were both on their second, shaky cigarette. “That’s how we’re going to know they’re coming? A couple of us staring at the sky?”
“Seriously,” said Miss Chambers, looking Blanche in the eye to make sure she knew she meant it. “As I said, all this will become routine to you soon. Ah, good, the trucks are all here. Climb in, ladies; let’s get you registered at the club so you can get some sleep. I know you’re all exhausted and hungry.”
“Miss Chambers, I’ll take the first shift,” Frankie Cullen said, sitting next to me as we settled in for the ride. “I don’t need that much sleep anyway. Hey, Fiona, why don’t you join me tomorrow night?” She elbowed me.
“Um, sure,” I said, my voice flat and on the edge of sarcasm. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I bit my tongue.
“Perfect, that settles it,” Miss Chambers said with a nod. “Thank you, Frankie, Fiona.”
Aside from Frankie, the rest of our crew was sullen and famished now that our long journey had concluded with a bomb scare. I felt physically ill from all of it, but perhaps still mostly because we weren’t going to the Continent after all. I needed sleep so that I could think clearly again. And I needed a new plan now that we were going to be stuck in the UK.
I looked out the window at the streets of London, haunted by a war it had endured for four long years. As we drove, we saw gray buildings with boarded-up windows and piles of bricks stacked beside dusty bomb sites. Due to years of rationing, vegetable gardens were growing all around the Tower of London and St. James’s Square. Most of the people on the streets, if they weren’t in some kind of military uniform, were wearing mismatched, shabby clothes and shoes long worn through. The Londoners looked just as beaten down as the city itself.
A couple of the girls gasped as the driver took us by St. Paul’s Cathedral, still standing majestically, though the buildings around it had been completely destroyed. Something about that cathedral among the ruins made me blink back tears.
“Imagine,” I said to Viv and Dottie as we all gaped out the windows, “living under war conditions like this in Boston? For years? I don’t know how they’ve managed it.”
“You’d be amazed what the human spirit can endure, can adapt to. I know you’re still in shock from the bombing, but I meant what I said: you’ll all adjust to this new world in time,” Miss Chambers said, looking around at us, her tone curt, calm, and professional. “And the English are as tough as they come . . .”
I thought of the Londoners at the station right after the bombing, going about their business as if a bomb dropping were just a huge inconvenience like a thunderstorm or a late train. How long had it taken them to get used to the air raid sirens and bombings as their new normal? How long would it take us?
Chapter Four
Dear Danny,