T'was the night before Christmas

Christmas eve, 1944..I remember it well. The day was frosty. We were sitting in the kitchen in front of the big range, where big pots boiled and burbled and the cat edged closer and closer to pick up some extra heat. "The war will be over very soon now" said my grandfather who had arrived earlier with a big package. " I don't know about that" said my father." An American bomber crashed into Carrintowhill mountain last night. All the lads were killed. God rest their souls and give comfort to their people". This was all very strange talk to me. I had seen fighter planes and bombers rumble along the coast off course and trying to find their way back to base. I never knew that they could crash and all the lads get killed. I felt sorry for them for a little while and went upstairs to find my brother. "What is Santy bringing you?" my brother wanted to know." I want that lorry on McKennas window" I said. "You won't get that , its too dear" he said in a low voice. There had been talk around the house about things getting worse. Sure you couldn't get anything worthwhile in the shops. Mrs McDermott told my mother that the shipment of toys she had ordered for Christmas were on the ship that was torpedoed in Bantry Bay last week.