Suddenly the air-raid sirens screeched into the still night. I sighed, my joyful musings dissipating into thin air. This was all I needed, a night with no sleep. I slid out of bed, dragged on my coat and picked up the small suitcase with my essentials by my door.

‘Mutti,’ I yelled down the hallway. ‘Come on, we have to go.’ I stood at the top of the stairs waiting for her. ‘Mutti!’ I shouted again.

Dropping the suitcase, I strode impatiently to my mother’s bedroom and opened her door. She was still in bed, an eye pillow over her eyes, and hadn’t stirred. I rushed over and shook her. ‘Mutti,’ I called gruffly, removing the blindfold. ‘Come on, there’s an air-raid.’

My mother opened her eyes a crack. ‘What’s wrong? Why have you woken me?’

‘Can’t you hear the sirens?’

She just stared blankly at me and began to close her eyes.

‘Mutti, no, come on!’ I shook her roughly and her eyelids fluttered open.

‘Here, sit up,’ I said, helping her upright, her body like a rag doll’s. ‘Did you take something before bed?’ I glanced at her nightstand and saw a bottle of sleeping tablets. ‘Oh no.’ I swung her legs over the side of the bed and got her sitting. ‘We have to go now.’

‘I can’t sleep when your father’s away,’ she muttered, her blue eyes dull. Mutti’s temper had frayed almost to breaking point when Vati was called to Berlin with his superior.

‘I’ll help you.’ I grabbed her under the arms and helped steady her as I pulled her up.

‘I’m so tired,’ said Mutti, as she shuffled into her slippers.

‘You have to walk now. Can you hear the sirens? We have to go,’ I said urgently, panic beginning to blossom in my belly. I grabbed her coat, draping it over her shoulders and tying it at the waist before helping her to the door. ‘All right now?’

Mutti nodded and grasped the banister to walk down the stairs a little unsteadily while I held her other arm and brought the suitcase.

We were among the last to make it to the air-raid shelter. It was already packed with people and the sour scent hit me like a physical blow. The warden nodded as we made our way past him.

‘Ah, there you are,’ called a neighbour. She patted a spot next to her on the wooden bench. ‘I was beginning to worry what had happened to you.’

Mutti and I sat down next to her. ‘Thank you, Elli,’ said Mutti.

The ominous drone of planes overhead began and a deep thrumming seemed to vibrate in my bones, even here underground. It was silent in the shelter, bodies shuffling as if trying to shrink from the threat in the sky, seeking protection with those next to them, as we waited for what came next. I looked at my mother, her eyes wide, mirroring my concern. The planes were very close. She reached for my hand and I held hers tightly.

I remember looking up at the ceiling, feeling so helpless, wishing I could see through it to what was happening outside. The bare light bulbs above us shone weakly, giving us some security in the darkness, before the whistling of the falling bombs reached our ears. The blast of the detonation followed quickly, and the ground shook around us. The howl of wind that rushed in their wake was enough to conjure up images of hell. We were battered relentlessly, only short periods of sanity between each bombing run when we became aware of the crying, the nervous coughing, the hysterical outbursts. Children were pressed tightly against their mothers, their little faces pale and streaked with tears. Some people rocked where they sat, eyes blank with terror, while others comforted the stricken with arms around shoulders and softly spoken words. The air-raid warden and his committee cast worried looks at the walls and ceiling but they were holding so far.

Time became meaningless. Our existence shrank to a pinpoint of surviving that moment. No other thoughts mattered – that basement became our world. Mutti and I clung to each other. I felt her shudder with each new explosion and, glimpsing the wildness in her eyes, I knew she was close to breaking point. I closed my eyes briefly during a lull to strengthen my resolve and keep my own terror at bay. I was all Mutti had and it wouldn’t do her any good if I fell apart now. I squeezed her hand, glancing across, and she smiled weakly at me. ‘It will be over soon, Mutti,’ I whispered. A new explosion rocked the earth and the lights went out. Screams rent the air before the air warden’s voice called through the commotion, ‘It’s all right. Everyone calm down. We have candles and we will have light in a moment.’

Sure enough, flickering light moved between the rows of seats as the warden’s men handed out candles. As I took a thick candle from gnarled fingers, we heard a whoosh and roaring outside the shelter.

‘Firebombing,’ the old man muttered in disgust before walking rapidly back to the warden.

Mutti was trembling and whimpering softly. The shadows from the flickering flame made her face seem sunken, the odd angles garish and enhancing the nightmarish atmosphere that surrounded us.

‘Be strong, Mutti,’ I whispered in her ear. ‘Be strong for Vati and me.’

She nodded and the whimpering stopped. I kissed the top of her frizzy head and we waited until the sound of bombs exploding disappeared, replaced with the distant crashing of what must have been buildings collapsing from the fire. Dread filled my heart as I wondered what we would find when we were allowed to leave.

Finally, after the all-clear was given, we plodded out of the shelter to find the city on fire. The night sky was blood red, the air filled with smoke. We stood rooted to the spot at the sight of fires raging only a few blocks away. Burning embers floating through the air fell on exposed skin, the cries and yelps breaking us from the spell. People began coughing as the smoke reached their lungs.

‘Cover your mouth and nose and go to your homes,’ ordered the warden. ‘It will be safer there.’

Mutti and I, along with our neighbours, stumbled back to our apartments, relieved the building was still intact but apprehensive of facing the new day, which would show us the extent of the damage.

The air-raids continued for about a week. Heinrich and his family were unscathed, their home intact, and he came to visit every day to make sure Mutti and I were safe. Hilde didn’t return to work – her daughter had been killed in the bombings and her grandchildren were orphans and needed her care. They left the city with the streams of evacuees to the relative safety of the countryside. Herr Schmitt also came back to us unscathed, much to our relief, and Heinrich’s too. He didn’t like us alone while Vati was away.

The city was in chaos. Every day, I heard more reports of traffic diversions, trams out of action, and electricity, gas and water being cut off in parts of the city. Walking to and from work, which had, thank God in Heaven, sustained no damage, I skirted around bomb craters and stepped over rubble on the footpaths next to once beautiful buildings in ruins, horrified by the blackened, twisted shells and the shards of broken glass crunching underfoot. There was dust everywhere. It was eerie and surreal.

Teams of workers, many in striped prison uniforms, moved from site to site clearing the debris, repairing essential services and shoring up buildings where they could. Bulldozers came in to demolish what was unsafe. I often found my cheeks wet with tears, and became weak at the knees at the sight of the dead, dug from the ruins and laid out for identification.

Volunteers from the National Socialist People’s Welfare congregated in the worst affected districts, setting up soup kitchens and centres offering emergency first aid and accommodation. The vacant expression of shock on many faces as they wandered around lost and the hysterical tears of those who had endured more grief than they could bear clenched my heart with overwhelming sorrow. How could the dignified citizens of München be reduced to this? Why weren’t we protecting our people better? Why weren’t we fighting off these attacks?

I thought of the oberinspektor’s words more often. Our hard work seemed to be having little impact on German life and yet we couldn’t just give in to defeat and loss. We would find a way to continue, to live our lives and survive whatever the Allies threw at us. Maybe the tide of the war had turned against us but we would do everything in our power to turn it to our favour once again. We would fight for our survival.

We worked long hours to cover for those who were needed at home, and one day, the oberinspektor sent me home early to get some rest.

I found strangers in our parlour.

‘What are you doing here?’ asked an old woman, grey hair poking through her headscarf.

‘I live here,’ I retorted. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I live here too,’ replied the woman, scowling.

‘What are you talking about?’

The woman thrust her chin in the air. ‘My family has the right to be here. We were bombed out and my daughter was killed. The city officials have given us this place to live in. This is our home now.’

I stared at the woman as if I had been slapped across the face. ‘Is my mother here?’

The woman shrugged and turned away.

In a daze, I moved from room to room, looking for my mother. Other families were squatting in the living areas, our furniture covered in their meagre belongings and pushed to one side to accommodate bedding. Even Herr Schmitt’s room was occupied.

‘Get out,’ growled a heavily pregnant girl in a state of undress.

‘You’re trespassing,’ hissed another shrunken figure.

Some just stared at me, as shocked as I was at their situation, their eyes blank and movements automatic. I stumbled away, bewildered and unable to believe that I was being made to feel like I didn’t belong in my own home.