Attack on Newfoundland!

German torpedoes hit Bell Island

November 2, 1942, Bell Island, Newfoundland

“You know mum’s going to kill us, right?” Greg called to his sister. No reply — she was too far ahead of him on the narrow cliff-top. He turned to his twin brother, Harry. “If we start back now, we can be in bed before she knows we’re gone.” “And let Lilian call us cowards forever?” Harry replied. “Not a chance.” Greg sighed and walked a little faster. Why did he and Harry always let their big sister talk them into these things? It had sounded exciting when she suggested it — sneaking out after bedtime to the guns keeping watch over the harbour — but now that they were out, it was just dark and damp and chilly. Besides, everything looked different at night. They’d seen the familiar low concrete platforms with the guns on top dozens of times in the daylight, but now it all seemed downright eerie. “Shhh!” Lilian whispered fiercely, looming up out of the darkness. “Do you want the Canadians to shoot you?” Seeing her brothers’ worried faces, she grinned. “You’re a pair of ninnies. Are you ready to play spies or what?” The boys shrugged uneasily. Their sister was fun to play with, even if her games often got everyone into trouble. “We’re here now, aren’t we?” Harry whispered. “I’ll be the Newfoundland militia, and you be the Canadians,” Greg whispered back. He held a piece of pipe up to his eye. “I’ll keep a lookout for the enemy.” “If you think I’m going to be the Germans, you can think again,” Lilian growled. “Tell you what — let’s pretend we’re in France, being spies behind enemy lines.” But Greg wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even whispering. In fact, he was jumping and pointing and yelling. “Something’s moving down there! I think it’s a U-boat!” Harry looked back and forth between the others. “Are you starting the game or what? Because I want to be a spy, too!”

Just then it seemed like the whole island shook. A giant boom knocked them to the ground. “Are you okay?” asked Lilian in a shaky voice. The twins just nodded, their eyes wide. What had happened? Did it have something to do with the rippling water Greg had spotted? Was the harbour full of enemy submarines? Were their friends and neighbours hurt? Without saying another word, the three of them scrambled down the hill for home. When they got to the blue house with the white trim, they saw their mother running toward them. They braced for her anger but instead she swept them up in one big hug. “Oh, my darlings! I thought for sure something had happened to you!” She was almost sobbing, joy and relief mixed in her voice. “Where’s Dad?” Harry asked. “And what happened to the windows?” Every pane of glass in their neat home had been shattered by the blast. “Your father went down to help the wounded,” their mother said. “The Germans sank two ships in the harbour. “The Rose Castle and that French ship, I mean, they’re just …” Her voice trailed off. “I keep thinking of all the men on board and their families …” She hugged the children tighter. “I bet the Germans fired torpedoes at Bell Island because they know how tough Newfoundlanders are!” Lilian declared. “They know our iron ore will build the ships that are going to beat them someday soon!” Her mother gave a half-smile. “Word is that they just plainly missed with one of their shots. And don’t you worry — you’re safe. Our family is all safe. Let’s be grateful for that.”

She turned her attention back to the three kids. “Now you get back to the house. You can sweep up while I make some tea and biscuits for the rescue workers. It’s going to be a long night.” Harry, Greg and Lilian silently found a broom and dustpan and started to clean up. The war had come to Bell Island, but suddenly it was no longer exciting.