We played Germans and British,
We played in bunkers
Those concrete edifices built to last forever
With the thick rusting wires and heavy doors.
We had three within spitting distance of each other.
All within the parameters of our play.
One, filled with water, one, to us merely a tunnel to run the gauntlet
The third, a rite of passage.
For the first our challenges were few.
The construction itself was all but invisible,
Sunken down into the earth and covered in grass.
Save for steps leading down into it,
You wouldn’t have guessed it was there.
The game, to run across the roof, leap from it
Over the lip and gap onto the grass verge beside the road
Avoiding the abyss of the descending concrete steps.
Scary the first few times, but I was a tomboy
As good as my brother and his mates.
Run hard, run fast heart pounding and leap for life
Land victorious, easy.
Soon it was so easy anyone could do it
If you knew where to jump from.
Kevin didn’t, he jumped scared in the wrong place
And fell onto the steps, his leg twisted and broken beneath him.
The second, like the first was sunken down into the earth
Covered though, in thick bracken and brambles.
As explorers we were triumphant in our discovery.
It was bleak, and damp, we pushed our way in
Discovering the dark, narrow passage
Running the bunker width at the back.
We dared each other not to run but
To step one by one into the treacle black
To tread slowly the gauntlet of ghosts and skeletons
German helmets, guns and grenades
The passage so narrow and the floor littered
With all this debris, all invisible save in our imaginations.
The third, atop a rise in the vinery that gave vista
To a swathe of the sea and rocky coastline.
Was accessible, visible and we had permission to play in it.
The boys brought wood and in one of the small bare rooms
Constructed a platform to be our ‘bed’
We would sleep in it!
Gathered together later with blankets and the odd candle stub
We ate up the air with our whispering
We spent the night in the airless cube, hot and scared.
I did not kiss Martyn or maybe I did kiss Martyn
Because this was the bunker of transition from kids
To pre-teens where games required more
Than leaping into space
Or walking through the dark when you just wanted to run and run and run.
We played Germans and British
We played in bunkers
Those concrete monstrosities built to last forever.
Trudie Shannon
"Bunkers" is currently on display in the Guernsey Market Building as part of the "Reflections On Occupation" exhibition.
