Earliest Memories - Part 8 - The First Bombing Raid

The First Bombing Raid

Apparently some lines of supplies to the army at the border were being routed through the road in front of the little boy’s house as one among many.

He remembered: The road started to get very busy during the night and early morning hours. Long convoys of army trucks, supplies, troops and all kinds of strange looking vehicles started to pass through. The trenches in front the house were dug and ready. The soil dug out was sometimes packed around or taken away. The space available for vehicles and pedestrians was limited. Every evening the normally busy road would empty out just before the army convoys started to pass through. The little boy’s parents told him not to peep through the windows or curtains when the army vehicles passed. There was very little honking of horns, just the roar of the engines. The little boy’s family’s air-raid spot was changed from the stone bench to the trench just outside their gate. They had rolled mats, cardboard sheets, some blankets and sheets to line the trench floor and sides to keep it dry and warm while they were there. The soil did stick to one side. After the first practice drills in the trenches, the mats, cardboard and sheets were packed under the bench for quick access, if they had the time, else they were to simply rush in. The children were dressed in two layers of clothing and everyone slept in the living room, close to the front door.

One early morning the air-raid sirens went off and everyone sleepily, emerged out of their homes and proceeded to their shelters and trenches. The little boy and his sister, who were supposed to be wake up their mother, slept soundly, they dreamt of sirens in their sleep and could not tell if they were real or not. The mother shook them awake, helped them up and they straggled out, still half-asleep.  The sister and brother remembered half to ‘help’ their mother by holding her hand and leading her! The little boy slipped on the soft edge of the trench and fell down halfway with this roll of mat in one hand, holding on to his sister and mother. They barely had time to roll out their mats and blankets and cover themselves when the sound of anti-aircraft fire sounded. Then soon a roar of planes came from the Pakistan side of the border. They were told not to look up but down and pray hard. The planes sounded higher than the Indian jets that had come a few days ago. The sirens kept sounding and gunfire seemed to echo from a distance and from many directions. There were a few dull thuds and explosive noises. It was all a confusing blur for about an hour. The children huddled in prayer, with a long towel covering their heads. The mother squatted in between, hugging her children on either side, with their heads on her lap. They remained huddled, praying aloud and were cramping by the time the all-clear blew just as daylight broke. A lot of people emerged dirty, muddy, grimy and with dirty, muddy and grimy clothes and sheets from the trenches.  Some carried books in their hands – prayer books! They got back into the houses. The cleaning and cooking began. A lot of groans, moans, coughing and strained breathing was heard from the older folks. A loud cheer and thanks to the Almighty God, went up as people came back out from the shelters.

Harpreet  and his group had been up on the roof of his building looking down over the area for anything unusual. They went about on to the rooftops of most buildings nearby and tried to spot any saboteurs or signals. They could see the tracer anti-aircraft gunfire that was fired from some places to tell other gunners where to aim for the bombers. Harpreet had kept an eye over the trench that he could see in the backyard of the house. While it was dark, he could not see clearly into it, but only in the direction. When daylight came as the all-clear blew, he was heartened and glad to see the blue ‘Chunni’ flutter and move in the distance. He knew she was safe. He thanked the lord above for seeing such a good beginning to this day – “Lord grant that I see that every day that I live!” he besought silently.

The radio soon carried news of the bombing raid and listed the damage. Apparently most of the city was spared any serious damage. A few bombs had landed on fields near the edge of the town and exploded. One had hit an old factory and caused a fire. A couple of bombs had apparently landed in the lake around the Golden Temple and had not exploded at all. Many were quick to attribute divine grace and power to this rather than some mechanical defect due to human failure. For a long time afterwards, it was an urban myth that the bombs were still there in the lake, safe as long as they were not disturbed and hence left there for ever. One bomber had apparently been shot and damaged even as it managed to fly back to safety across the border, its wings still on fire. No bombs had landed anywhere near the little boy’s house or neighbourhood. The bombers had not flown over them.

All in all, the little boy and his sister got a good, scrub with soap and water for their daily bath and a good rough wipe down with the towel to make their skin glow red and almost raw, in getting out all the mud and grime. The water supply in the house for washing, cooking and drinking was running out quickly. The family elders quickly made up a plan to do all the clothes washing for different households together in one place – the clothes washing basin, next to the washing stone (on which the rolled wet clothes were struck to get out the grime) in the backyard. Water was heated in large metal pans and poured into buckets to be used on a whole set of clothes. The mothers and girls of the family made sure that once, washed the clothes belonging to each family was sorted out correctly. Some confusion and mix-up ensued.

Drinking water was stored separately in many containers in all houses and rationed out for each family. Some of the poor and homeless in the streets came begging for some water and food. Every household set aside some little portion for them. It is a sin in the Indian culture to refuse to give someone water if they are thirsty and ask for it. One has to share whatever little one has. This principle has been glorified in folklores, myths and stories over thousands of years, all over India!

He remembered: He and his sister began to have second thoughts about this air-raid thing. They liked all the huddling, creeping, praying, but started to fear the thorough scrubbing bath to be expected afterwards!

To Be Continued..


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