| GHOST NIGHT |
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| Sometimes you get so used to something that it doesn't seem strange ~ even though it may be VERY strange indeed. I always knew that if I woke up in the middle of the night, I would see a figure near the corner of my room. The figure was a man, dressed in a grey uniform and a capped hat. It looked as though he were sitting, but I couldn't say for sure...because most of the time I would hide my face under the bedclothes and wish the figure gone. After a while, I got used to him being there. He never spoke, he never even moved. Perhaps he didn't know I was there...or perhaps he was just a shadow my imagination had turned into a figure. Time went on and sometimes the figure would look faded when I dared peek at him... but I never thought that he shouldn't be there. I was so used to him just being in the corner that I ceased to pay much attention to him at all. For the most part, he seemed like a three-dimensional black-and-white photograph...unmoving and still. I must have been about 12 years old when my mum overheard a group of my friends talking. We had all gathered round Lucy's (*) house for a sleepover and were telling spooky stories to each other. Lucy's mum, Dawn, had invited my mum (Mary) over for coffee as us girls were settling in for the night. They had crept upstairs to listen to our stories, and were both planning to charge into the bedroom to make us jump! As Mary and Dawn creeped to the top of the stairs, they heard Lucy cajoling me into telling my story. Of course Lucy knew about the figure in my room ~ she was my best friend and we shared everything. It was a boring tale to tell... there was nothing to say except that I saw a figure of a man in my room sometimes. He didn't move, smile, or talk to me ~ there was nothing much to tell at all. Dawn and Mary didn't jump in on us telling our stories to each other ~ instead, they decided to listen in. After I had finished my boring tale, my mum casually walked into the bedroom and asked what we were talking about. When we all just looked at her blankly, she knelt down to me and told me that we would talk about things in the morning. I don't know why I didn't like telling people about the figure I saw. It was as though he belonged to me somehow, and I didn't really want to share. Still, when mum asked questions, I had to answer her truthfully...and so I did. I told her everything... even silly things like how he appeared to be like a picture that had come to life, and that he had badges on his lapels. Sometimes he appeared without his hat and his hair was shiny and slicked back with a parting on the side, and that occassionally he would have his hands crossed on his lap ~ though usually he rested each hand on his legs. Each detail I told my mum seemed to fade it in my head... It was though I was forgetting him as I spoke of him. Even now, I have to think hard about how he looked ~ because speaking of him was stealing him away. |
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| * ALL NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED |
| That night, after telling my mum as much as I felt I could, I lay awake in my bed. Part of me knew that I had to say sorry to the lonesome airman (as I had come to call him). I needed to apologise for letting others know he was there, for breaking his silence and sharing him with others. Sleep drifted over me, and I could not stay awake ~ though I tried to force myself to keep my eyes open. I must have been having a terrible nightmare, because my screaming and calling out had brought my parents rushing up to my room, and they were gently shaking me awake asking what was wrong. I seemed to awake fully all of a sudden, and automatically looked into the corner of the room where my airman should have been. He was there! Faded, and looking more grey than ever... but he was definately there! I couldn't hear mum and dad voicing their concerns, asking me to tell them why I was crying... the room was silent to my ears. Then the figure did something he had never done before...he moved. He turned his head slowly to look at me, and kept his eyes locked to mine as he shook his head softly from side to side. He had tears in his eyes, I'm sure ~ or were they my own tears? I don't rightly know... but as he shook his head he faded to nothing. He just wasn't there any longer. And I knew then I would never see him again. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For as long as I can remember, I called this figure 'the airman', and I thought he was German because of the grey uniform. It took years and years for me to recall (finally!) that this figure was 'like and black and white photograph come to life'...he was grey ALL OVER ~ not just his uniform. This mixed with the lack of light in the room suggests to me that the colour of the uniform was possibly indistnguishable ~ it could have been many different shades of blue or grey, or even beige or tan. The house where I lived at this time was a very new building ~ not much over ten years old at that time. There had been a very few cases of aircraft coming down in the area during World War II which may explain my figure (see below). Though why he was not able to speak or show himself fully ~ or even why he appeared to me in an UPSTAIRS room is something I cannot explain. |
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| ... the strange figure of a man in uniform stands by my bed |
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| The RAF website reports that: On 11th September 1940 "At 1610 hours, at the same time as the attack was being made on London, 75 enemy aircraft came in over Portsmouth and Southampton and flew inland over Hampshire and Sussex. Three Squadrons were sent to intercept and enemy aircraft were shot down." "...at about 1530 hours a large number of aircraft crossed the coasts of Kent and Hampshire and made an attack on Dover, and on the Southampton area where a number of casualties were inflicted. " "...bombs have been dropped during the night in parts of Lancashire, South Wales, Devon and Cornwall, Buckinghamshire and Hampshire, but in no case has the damage been severe or the casualties heavy. " I am fully aware that the 424 is the closest RAF squadron to where I lived at this time. I cannot find details of any casualities of that squadron during WWII. Research continues... |
| ADDED INFORMATION: WHETHER THIS IS RELEVANT OR NOT, I LEAVE FOR THE READER TO DECIDE... A FEW YEARS AFTER THIS INCIDENT, MY (MUCH LOVED) BROTHER DECIDED TO JOIN THE A.T.C (AIR TRAINING CORPS). HE JOINED THE 424 SQUADRON. |
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