Tag #123670 - Interview #78061 (tili solomon)

Here's a memory from the war days, in the 1940s. There were private grocery stores on our street. The closest one was about one hundred steps away from our house. One day, I think it was Friday, my father sent me to buy some pies. I remember they were puffy and dipped in sugar a bit and well baked: I can still see them today, so many years later. So I probably went to buy them for breakfast. At that moment I think the air raid sirens went off. When that happened they kicked us out of the grocery store; they wanted to close the door and couldn't have foreigners on the premises. So I had to run all the way from the store to our house, lest the bombing caught me on the street. I entered through the courtyard; my mother and sister were already in the trenches, while my father was waiting for me, because he knew I was away. The house had a porch with two small cupboards. They sort of replaced the refrigerator: in summer food was kept there, because it was cooler. My father and I sat on the floor between those two cupboards and heard the sound of the air raid. The first thing one could hear was the sound of the planes which flew over the city. We stayed there for a while. Then we heard the sirens again: they probably knew when the planes withdrew. And we came out. When we came out, my mother looked very worried, 'Oh my God! Where have you been? Relax, it's over now.