Buried Alive               by: Debbie Cybill

 

None of us heard the bomb land. We were all asleep in the basement. Since the air raids began to occur every night we had not bothered to try to sleep upstairs, but it had become routine to sleep down here, even without waiting for the air-raid sirens. Indeed, we didn't even realize that the sirens had sounded; we were pretty much insulated from outside noises down here. No, it was not the bomb itself, but the bread-bin rattling down the cellar steps and landing on Hamish's chest that woke us all.

"Ouch."

"Are you all right, Hamish?"

"What hit me?"

Mother reached for the light switch.

"The electricity's off."

Just then there was an enormous rumble. We all felt the house shake, then the noise of the rubble falling on the floor above us. "Angus, go and check if the gas is turned off properly at the mains."

"Yes, Father. I turned it off before we came to bed."

"Well go and check, anyway. Fire's the worst danger just now ."

I checked in the dark. We had all accustomed ourselves to do these things without lights. "It's off, Father."

"Here's what hit you, Hamish. It was the bread-bin from the top of the cellar steps."

Mother had shone a flash-light around and spotted it at the foot of Hamish's bunk.

"Don't use flash-lights more than we need, Jeannie, we don't know how long they will have to last. There's no water in the taps, not even in the hot water tap, so I suppose the hot water tank has been wrenched away. Is the water can full, Angus?"

"I filled it last night, Father, so we should have five gallons at any rate."

"Good, but check it anyway."

It was full, as I knew it would be.

"I think, Alistair, that you and Angus should see if it is possible to get out through the cellar door before we decide we are trapped. Don't you think it might just be possible that we could? While you do that I shall just inspect Hamish to make sure he is not really hurt."

Mother was taking charge, as she always did.

I held the torch while Father poked at the rubble where the cellar door used to be. Nothing would budge.

"I wonder where the door went. It must have been torn off its hinges before this mess fell. Look, here's a bathroom fixture from upstairs."

"Is there any way out, Alistair?"

"No, nothing will move, Jeannie. It's all locked solid. We're here for some time I fear."

"Hadn't you better inspect the ceiling to see if there is any danger of it's collapsing on us?"

"Right you are, my love."

Father and I inspected the ceiling, or rather the underside of the floor above. In the alcove where we had our bunks everything was sound, but over in the far corner it was bulging.

We had reinforced the bunk alcove some months before with four by four beams, laid both horizontally and vertically, but elsewhere we had used vertical two by fours as braces for the floor above. After building the two double decker bunks out of two by fours and pieces of old carpet we still had a stack of two by fours left that we had kept in the basement for any emergency. Some of them were pressed into service to shore up the bulging floor. The sledge-hammer from the tool chest was used to hammer them into place and to push up the floor, however slightly.

"Perhaps the noise of hammering will attract the attention of the rescue crews. Quiet, everyone, and listen for any signs of activity overhead."

Not a sound.

Bit by bit Father and I explored the cellar, looking for weak points, either to facilitate our escape or else points where the ceiling might fall in on us. Meanwhile Mother and my brother Hamish, who was only nine, five years younger than me, inspected the food resources.

"Why don't you look for the bread, Hamish, and return it to the bread-bin. And you need to find the lid of the bread-bin too. Did anyone note the time when we were awakened?"

"I did, Mother. I looked at my watch and it said 3.03. It's now 4.46."

"Good lad! I suggest we try to sleep for a few more hours, and then in daylight I expect the rescue teams will dig us out."

"Goodnight, everyone."

Despite all our good intentions I for one found myself too wound up to get to sleep easily, but I did eventually manage it.

Despite everything, we slept late that morning. I woke up at a quarter past eight, but Hamish was stirring before me, whimpering a little, perhaps in pain from the blow on his chest five hours before, perhaps in fright. I never did find out. W breakfasted by the light of a single flashlight on cornflakes and milk, pretty much our normal breakfast at that time, but we could not make any tea to wash it down. We had plenty of candles, but did not yet dare to light one for fear of fire.

"Lick your dishes clean, everyone. We can't spare water for washing." Mother turned out the light and we discussed our plans while sitting in darkness. Father summarized his ideas.

"I think the best thing to do is to try to burrow through towards number 34. The noise of our digging may attract the rescue teams, and we certainly can't dig upwards with that mess over our heads. Since there is only about twenty feet between the two houses I don't suppose we shall be lucky enough to be able to dig upwards between them, but we can try."

"I can't think of a better idea, Alistair. The noisiest part will be breaking a hole in the wall. Let's hope that brings the air raid wardens. Do you think we dare light a candle now?"

"Can anyone smell gas? You boys have a better sense of smell than I do. No? Then let's try just one. Come on, Angus."

I found the candles and lit one, which then burnt brightly and steadily. For a moment I was mesmerized by the light and studied the grain of the nearest wooden beam, fascinated by the way it ran.

"Come on laddy. Stop day-dreaming and let's get started."

Picking up the pick-axe Father led the way to the far corner of the cellar and I followed with the sledge-hammer and the candle.

"If we begin fairly high up in this corner we should tunnel in the right direction, and by keeping high there should be little risk of soil caving in on us." Mother had followed us over.

"Don't you think you should shore up the ceiling a little more before you begin, Alistair, just in case?"

"I'll get the wood, Mother, I know where it is." Hamish was excited by the thought of having something to do. He struggled across with a piece almost too big for him and I hammered it in place. He brought another and then a third.

"That's enough, Hamish, or we shan't have space to swing a hammer."

"Everyone quiet, while we listen if the rescuers have heard the hammering."

We all held our breaths and listened.

"I guess not. Let's get on with it. I'll start with the pick-axe, Angus, and then perhaps you can break things a bit with the sledge. Everyone back, where I shan't hit them with the back swing."

The pick-axe just bounced off the concrete and after ten minutes Father stopped to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

"Perhaps you could start a small crack with a hammer and chisel, Alistair, and then enlarge it with the pick-axe."

"That's a good idea, Jeannie. Do you feel up to trying, Angus."

"I'll give it a shot, Father."

I selected a two pound lump hammer and a one-inch chisel and then studied the wall face. Holding the candle up to the wall I thought I could detect a barely perceptible hair-line which might be a weak point and placed the chisel against it. I was right. A dozen blows and the hair-line widened to a crack.

"Find the small crow-bar, Hamish, and let's see if we can pry a chunk out."

No such luck. It took ten minutes more with the chisel and then with the pick-axe before it was possible to insert the crowbar and pry a small chunk loose. We all stopped and listened for the rescue teams. If that noise hadn't attracted their attention nothing would. Still the pick-axe would do nothing but bounce off the concrete. We attacked the surface again with the hammer and chisel and succeeded in starting another crack at an angle to the first. Now Father tried the sledge-hammer. The crack widened enough to insert the crow-bar and we pried out another chunk.

"Time for lunch, everyone."

Had it taken us all morning just for this little bit of excavation? It would be Christmas before we got out at this rate. Lunch consisted of bully beef sandwiches, no butter, and a cup of water, followed by canned peaches. We all went over to inspect the wall.

"It looks to me as if you have done the worst part. It should go much more easily now. But you can't leave the debris lying here in the way. Don't you think you should carry it over to the other corner, where the ceiling is bulging down? If you stack the rubble and soil there it may soon be enough to support the ceiling."

Mother was right. As usual. She was the real planner, while Father was the doer.

"Hamish, why don't you make that your job? Fetch the broom and shovel and carry the rubbish over there."

Hamish scurried away to find the tools for his share of the job. Crow-bar and sledge-hammer proved the most useful tools in enlarging the first hole until it was big enough to accommodate me. I fetched over a wooden crate and stood on it to begin excavating the soil beyond. The soil was surprisingly hard and I had to use the pick-axe to loosen it before shovelling it out for Hamish to cart away. When it was Father's turn to dig he had to enlarge the hole a little first, then began to tunnel obliquely upwards towards the surface. By teatime we had penetrated about four feet and it became necessary to crawl into the hole to move further. 'Tea'--this was the "North Country" where the meals are different from the south of England--at five o'clock, consisted of sardines and bread, a small salad with oil and vinegar and a cup of reconstituted dried milk. No tea. It would be dark outside by now. Back to the tunnel.

"I don't think we need to shore anything up here, Angus. Nothing seems at all loose and we are pretty near the surface anyway. There's no real point in going up any higher so near the house, and it's dark outside anyway, so we shouldn't see anything if we did break through. Let's see if we can't do another five feet before bed. I'll take the first stint."

It was moving much faster now. Father got right inside the tunnel and passed back the dirt between his feet, where I threw it out to Hamish. There was no longer room to swing the sledge and most of the work was done with the crow-bar backed up by the lump hammer and chisel. Father simply scrabbled away the loosened dirt with his gloved hands. After half an hour we swapped places. We were now advancing at the rate of about two feet an hour, so that by the time we called it a day and stopped for supper we had a tunnel about ten feet long, or about half way to the next house, number 34.

We could not wash for supper, but simply brushed off the dirt as best we could and discarded our gloves. Over supper, consisting of more reconstituted milk, canned peas and carrots, we discussed our progress.

"We're about half way to the Williams's house now. I guess that's the point where we have the best chance of finding ground free of fallen debris. I think we should try to break through to the surface first thing in the morning. Don't we have any real milk left, Jeannie, instead of this dreadful stuff?"

"I was keeping it for breakfast to go with the cornflakes. We have just enough. Clean your plates and cups everyone and then let's sing Christmas carols for an hour before we get a good night's sleep."

Hamish immediately started singing "Once in Royal David's city," in which the first verse is usually sung by a solo treble voice. His clear treble--he was in the church choir--rang out sweet and clear. For the second verse we all joined in in unison, even me with my unsure light baritone, still with the adolescent's crack in it. In the third verse first Father and then Mother began to harmonize. For an hour we sang like this, generally in four part harmony, "In the bleak midwinter", "The holly and the ivy". We guyed "Good King Wenceslas" by adding stylized gestures and nearly broke down in a fit of giggles. We did not sing "Tannenbaum" for that had become identified with the Hitler Youth Movement, though we did sing other German carols, such as "Silent Night", with which we finished.

"Goodnight everyone. Let's hope it really is a silent night tonight."

Next morning I was the first awake, at seven o'clock, according to my luminous watch dial, and lay for a moment feeling all the aches and pains from the previous days unaccustomed tunnelling. I climbed off my bunk and made my way over to the drain in the cellar floor, which was all we had in the way of a toilet. Mother stirred and Father groaned. He too was suffering from stiff muscles from the tunnelling. We breakfasted on cornflakes and the last of the milk with a little water to wash it down.

"No, you can't have a second cup, Alistair. We must conserve what we have."

"Let's get on with it then, laddies. You take the first stint, Angus and I'll pass the dirt back to Hamish."

"I think I'd better help Hamish to cart the dirt away. He can get in the tunnel behind you and pass it out to me," said Mother. "I think we should try to tunnel vertically up to the surface and see if we can get out. We are about halfway between the houses now."

"That's what I thought too; it's why I wanted Angus to start. He will fit in the space better than I can."

It was more than a mite uncomfortable hacking at the roof of the tunnel with the dirt falling on my head, but I only had to go up about two feet before I came across the rubble that had fallen between the houses, wooden beams, bricks, which I thought at first threatened to fall on my head, and an iron pipe. The whole thing was locked solid. I thought I saw a hint of light between all this, and there was certainly a waft of air. An hour's effort wasted. Father took over from me and we continued the forward progress, a little faster now that we had the hang of it. We had tunnelled another four feet before Mother called a halt for lunch.

"I don't suppose we should try again to go upwards?" Father sounded dispirited.

"No, you should continue to the Williams's house, Alistair. It will be easier to break through their wall into the cellar, since there will be no packed earth backing the wall. It should give much more easily."

"I guess you're right, Jeannie."

"With any luck, Alistair, we should be able to get out from their cellar, and if worse comes to the worst and they are trapped too we can combine forces to start the next tunnel to number 32. With Jamie Williams helping the tunnelling could go faster."

"You're right as usual, Jeannie."

I was only fifteen minutes into my stint when I felt a great thump on my back as the roof caved in behind me, pinning my lower body to the floor of the tunnel and extinguishing the candle. Only my head and my left hand were free. The pressure seemed intolerable at first and then numbness set in. The worst part was the complete and absolute darkness: not a glimmer of light. I could not even feel Father's efforts as he struggled to free me., but finally he succeeded and dragged me back into the cellar. I was not badly hurt, just somewhat shocked; I had not even panicked.

"We've nothing to shore it up with, but we must carry on somehow, Jeannie. I must try to do all the excavating myself."

"Nonsense, Alistair, we just have to take more care, that's all. The boy's not hurt. If we can't shore up the roof we'll just have to cut the roof away up to the surface and the accumulated rubble up there, which won't fall. Or if it does, then we have a way out. Angus can rest for an hour while you and I start on that task."

Mother crawled into the tunnel and started attacking the roof with a crowbar. All the way along the tunnel she found rubble, beams of wood, tangled plumbing parts, bricks, but no more chance of a cave in. By teatime they had succeeded in clearing the tunnel roof without finding anywhere they could cut up through the rubble to get out. After tea I took another shift at extending the tunnel towards the Williams's and by supper time we had cleared the concrete face of their cellar wall ready to try to break through the next day. We hammered on the wall but could hear no sound in reply.

"Let's hope that's a good sign, that they were able to get out and there's a passage for us too."

"I fervently hope so. Let' have an hour of carols and then turn in."

Once more we began with "Once in Royal David's city," letting Hamish sing his solo, before running through our repertoire of carols.

"We'll be able to go out carol singing in the streets after all this practice and raise some cash!"

"Don't be silly, Alistair. Sleep well everyone. Goodnight, Hamish; goodnight, Angus. Come on, Alistair, let's turn in too."

Hamish woke soon after five, and no-one could get to sleep again after that. We had an early breakfast, reconstituted dried milk with our cereal this morning, and then, despite our aching muscles started to try and break down the wall. After ten minutes with the hammer and chisel I thought I felt the concrete giving under my blows, but it took another fifteen minutes before the chisel broke through.

"Gas! I smell gas."

Father blew out the candle and yelled to Mother to blow out the other one and find the flash-light. The smell of gas was strong and we backed out of the tunnel.

"Let's hope it escapes through the rubble over the tunnel. But how can the cellar be full of gas? Go and check our gas-line, Jeannie, and see if it is still giving gas from the main."

Mother turned the gas key. The needle did not move.

"No, there's nothing coming through here. The authorities must have turned off the gas at the mains an hour or two after the bomb."

"If their gas pipe was broken by the bomb, Alistair, an hour or two would have been enough to fill the cellar. Oh, those poor people. If they were there they must have been killed by the gas. And the cellar must be well sealed for the gas still to be lingering."

"What do we do now?"

"I think we should give it an hour for the gas to disperse and then continue. You had better be the one to break through the wall, Alistair. I don't want Angus to be the one to find dead bodies. Let him work for an hour until he has enlarged the hole somewhat and then you take over to make the final penetration."

We gave up tunnelling to make our morning ablutions, such as they were. Mother had designated a far corner of the cellar as our toilet, with a bucket of soil kept handy to cover everything up, so there was little smell. After we had all made ourselves comfortable I crept into the tunnel and started once again on the wall, this time by torch-light. The smell of gas was much less now, but there was a somewhat sweet, sickly smell in its place, the smell of death as I afterwards discovered. After 45 minutes I exchanged places with Father, who soon enlarged the hole enough to climb through.

"Angus, go back and ask Mother to come to the wall, please."

"It's as you feared, Jeannie. Jamie and Mairi Williams are dead, and already bloated and stinking." He threw up.

"We all have to be strong, Alistair. Help me through. I want to find something to cover them with before we continue our digging."

Mother drew their bedding up and covered them where they lay, and then called for me to come through. Father was still sick and shaking and I was feeling very nervous.

"It looks as if they never heard the bomb and died in their sleep, Alistair. Go back and keep Hamish company until you can pull yourself together. I don't want him left alone. Angus and I will explore this cellar and see if there is any way out."

Mother and I went up the cellar steps and found an immovable tangle of debris. Then we inspected the floor overhead, which was not bulging anywhere, even though the Williamss had not braced it like we had.

"It looks as if the fall is less bad here than in our house. Where's their coal store, Angus?"

We went over to the other side of the house from where we had entered and found the coal. I looked at the coal chute, where the coal was delivered.

"Do you think we could get out that way, Mother?"

"Why don't you try to get up there and squeeze through? Here, let me help you up."

"It's no good like this. I'll have to find a crate to stand on."

I dragged a packing case over and this time found I could reach to draw back the bolt on the coal-hole cover. It opened outwards and I pushed hard against it. It seemed to move slightly, but I knew that I was pushing against fallen debris. Just then Father and Hamish came through the tunnel, giving the covered bodies a wide berth.

"I'm trying to move the coal door. It gives slightly, but it opens outwards and I can't move it far."

"Is it hinged at the top like ours?"

"Yes it is."

"Then let's try to remove the hinges, then we might manage something."

"Why didn't we try our own coal-hole cover?"

"It's in the part of the cellar where the ceiling was bulging worst, so there had to be lots of debris on top, and besides we might have brought everything down on top of us just there. I thought about it, Jeannie, but there seemed no future in that approach."

"I guess you're right, Alistair, but how about here."

"Angus's right; it does give a little."

Father was still pale but seemed to have collected himself. He was able to knock the pins out of the hinges and then to slide the door partly to one side.

"I can see daylight."

He took the crow-bar and pried at the tangle of debris. Bit by bit he was able to remove pieces of iron pipe, an old shoe, parts of a kitchen table, bricks, plaster and lath.

"Here, Angus, you have a try."

I pried out more bricks and suddenly could see the sky.

"Can you hear anything out there, Angus?"

"Not a thing, Mother. There doesn't seem to be anyone about."

"Well, it's still early in the day. I expect the rescue teams will resume work soon."

I went back to prying at the debris and soon had an opening through which I could crawl.

"Shall I try to get out and work at it from outside?"

"Yes, but be careful, Angus. If it's safe we can send Hamish up after you."

I threaded my way through the hole, scraping my side on one bit of iron, but I was finally through. Not a person in sight, no traffic, just a scene of devastation. I could not see a single complete house standing, but ours seemed to be the worst.

"Send Hamish up, Mother. There's no-one about and nothing seems about to fall."

It did not take the two of us long to enlarge the hole enough for Mother to climb through and then Father. We clambered over the debris to the road and looked around.

"What are you folks doing here? Don't you know it's off limits? Thinking of looting are you?"

The voice startled us. We all spun around.

"Who the devil do you think you are to talk to us like that? From your shoulder flashes you are supposed to be rescue workers, I see. If you had done your jobs properly we should not be here. This is the third day since the bomb buried us in our cellar over there and we have taken all this time to dig ourselves out. Ourselves, not you, you set of incompetents." Mother paused for breath. It was the only time I ever heard her use an expletive.

"Where do you live?"

"Just over there at number 36. We had to burrow through to number 34 to get out and it took us almost three days. And another thing, the people in 34 are all dead. They died in their sleep, of gas. If you had turned off the gas as soon as the bomb hit they would still be alive."

"We didn't think anyone could still be alive in 36. Just look. It's the worst damaged house of the lot. We've been working on other houses where there seemed more chance of finding living souls. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He seemed on the verge of tears.

"I'm exhausted, and I've already seen 27 dead bodies from this one land-mine. Now you tell me there are more, but at least you are alive. Charlie here will take you to the reception centre where you can stay until you find somewhere to go."

It was not until two days later that we found out that all my uncles, my cousin Jessica and all my remaining male cousins--those that had not died earlier in the Battle of Britain--had been killed that night. Another piece of news that meant relatively little to us at the time, but was of crucial importance, was, "The Japs have bombed some Yankee base in the Pacific" a few hours after the Germans had almost destroyed my family.

Apart from the three of us, my paternal grandfather was the only male relative I had who survived that night. Pearl Harbour, the death of the Williams's--the only deaths I had seen until then--and the devastation of my family became inextricably entwined in my memory. And ever since I have preferred to sleep with a night-light. I am not exactly terrified of the dark, but absolute blackness makes me uneasy.

 

This story is offered in tribute to those who were buried on September 11, 2001 and were not so lucky as to survive.

 

 

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© 2001 by Debbie Cybill. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.