The city streets were cold, those who had arrived in Dresden too late found no warm welcome. Instead they lined the streets, most had nowhere to go and the city was overwhelmed.

‘Adam, Brigitte is freezing, we need to get inside.’ Following her husband as best she could through freezing streets, Frieda held onto the precious bundle wrapping itself around her torso.

‘I know love, my cousin’s apartment shouldn’t be much be further. Dresden’s a big place.’ Glancing back at the small bundle clinging to his wife Adam gave a wan smile. ‘Frieda, do you remember last winter when the car broke down on the way to your mother’s house?’

‘And we had to pay that man to tow us the rest of the way?’ Glancing through her blonde hair, she smiled. ‘We were lucky he came along, otherwise we would have been in the same mess.’ As she finished speaking, a long mournful whine echoed through the evening streets. Taking Frieda’s hand Adam began to weave through the crowds towards a pair of police officers who had just arrived via vehicle, opening a large set of double doors.

‘Excuse me.’ Fretting like an old woman, Adam waved as he approached the officers. ‘Listen, my wife and I only just got the city this morning, why are the sirens going off?’

‘I don’t think it’s an air raid if that’s what you’re asking. Probably just recon.’ Pulling the doors wide open, he began the slow process of herding civilians into the building. ‘From what I can tell the planes are on the western approach, so it’s not the Reds.’

‘The British and Americans won’t bomb Dresden?’

‘The Luftwaffe didn’t bomb Oxford.’ Shrugging, the man waved both Adam and Frieda down into the communal shelter below.

It was dark inside, the only source of light being a few small oil lamps hanging on the walls over the disused shelter. As the deep rumble of B1’s roared overhead, a few children whimpered.

‘Papa, when are we going to see uncle?’

‘Soon sweetie, just try to stay calm, okay.’ Hand looped protectively round is daughter’s shoulders, Adam surveyed the room from where he sat. Some four dozen people from the surrounding neighbourhood who didn’t have their own shelters beneath their houses crouched in the grim darkness. Wondering if their homes would still be there when the bombing stopped. Somewhere across the room a young child began to wail as a particularly close explosion shook dust free from the ceiling. Minutes passed as each explosion shook the foundations of the building until the sound of plane engines faded and the people cowering in the dark seemed to wake from a trance. Timid as mice bedraggled men and women, many of whom with children emerged into the cool evening air.

‘Do you think they’ll come back?’ Stumbling over the cracked bricks that once belonged to apartment blocks, Frieda led Brigitte by the hand across the torn terrain.

‘Remember what the policemen said? There’s only really the train station here anyway.’ Weighed down by their heavy winter clothing and slowed by the torn terrain, the road was difficult. As they passed by a still fizzling marker flare, a distant rumble came from across the city. Looking back briefly at the marker, Adam’s attention was quickly by a great lash of orange light in the distance.

‘Dear lord.’ Snatching up Brigitte a now shrieking Brigitte, he cast around desperately. The entire street had been hit by blockbusters, nothing left but husks of buildings and craters. ‘The buildings, now.’ Climbing over haphazardly strewn rubble and through a ruined window, the trio found themselves hurled into a crater and under the remains of the buildings foundation. The evening sky now blood red with flames and wind, the sound of British planes penetrating the thick smoke. Peeking out from the hole that was their only shelter, Adam could see the beginnings of an unnatural twister. Burning objects and people lashed by unquenchable fires pulled into the air by the manmade hurricane.

‘Adam, what is it?’ Eyes wide, face blackened by the ash filtering down from above.