This week’s 100 Word Challenge is inspired by our visit to the Cabinet War Rooms, hidden beneath the streets of Whitehall. We’ve written in role as Churchill this week, but what would it have been like for a member of his staff?
Or how else will this prompt inspire you?
I can’t wait to read them!
Miss T
Beneath the Streets
Beneath the streets I lay,
Beneath the streets I stay,
In the Churchill war rooms,
Hoping against hope.
The sign said windy,
I started to feel chilly,
I felt myself shake,
Hoping against hope.
I lay in my chamber,
Specifically in my bed,
My face was as white as a sheet,
Hoping against hope.
I knew this may be my last day on Earth,
But I tried to think nothing of it,
“The war rooms were safe,” I said to myself,
Hoping against hope.
A click of the sign,
All was fine,
I cried with relief,
Always hoping.
The station
I was sleeping peacefully when I heard an awful screeching noise. Air raid sirens. I wasn’t ready for this! I’d been functioning for years and now this, what would the other stations say? Especially me being the youngest. Suddenly, I felt a familiar pounding through my body, only this time it was much harder. I had been dreading this moment for so long and now it was happening. Hundreds of people started descending into my core centre with frightened faces. With small thuds, one by one they all sat down, their future in my hands. We were doomed.
I went beneath the streets, during a bombing raid. I heard the familiar screech of Luftwaffe planes and the droning of air raid sirens, followed by screaming, crying and explosions. Everyone was frantically trying to find shelter; I sprinted into the nearest tube station and waited, hoping upon hope that we would survive. Everything after that was a blur, I remember parts of the station, flying left right and center, and then I remember a searing pain in my head, and then nothing. Many hours later I, along with many others, was taken out of the station on a stretcher.
Beneath the Streets
I just want to go to sleep. No, I have to keep working for my country! But can’t I do it tomorrow? Churchill will kill me if he catches me slacking. Being a secretary is so tiring, even if I do get my own room. It’s also annoying that he hates noise,so you have to be quiet, he doesn’t need large amounts of sleep (unlike the rest of us), and if you heard the ominous tap tap from the air vent, you had to be completely silent. I love my job at the Churchill War rooms.
Warning. May not be historically accurate.
I am new to this job I am starting down in the Cabinet War Rooms. I have been told to not tell anyone about anything you do here uncase German spies come and here what’s going on. I have only seen Winston Churchill once before and now I’m going to be seeing him daily as his servant. I am excited but nervous, people say he can be very mean and childish. I’m walking down the corridor right now looking for Winston Churchill’s third room. I hope he likes me, and then I knocked on the door, and it opened, there he was smocking a cigar on his chair.
Beneath the streets
Beneath the streets
In the heart of London
lay a secret base only few knew of.
a secret base, many bed rooms, meeting rooms and more, an under cover spy room, the room that won or lost the war. Many vast corridors and openings
Thick walls, long rooms
They thought they were safe…were they?
The planes flew overhead, bombs dropped, Luftwaffe came. Green telephone, paper work, big maps.
Busy minds and working brains. Churchill wearing a bowtie and a hat. His friend grinning back.
Many encouraging speeches and talks
‘We shall fight them on the beaches!’
By Elodie
Dear diary ,
I worked underground. And yes it sounds rather strange but I play a very important role for our beloved prime minister , mister winston Churchill him self! I am his secretary , and I tell it is a very secretive job working in the war rooms I tell you ! It seems safe being underground as if it is impossible for us to get bombed but really it is just a layer of concrete over our heads. However my beloved husband Is in great danger , because we know every single ship that is out there . Recently a number of ships have got bombed . Including my husband . I hope he okay and how I want to write to him about everything , but I must keep this secret if I don’t I don’t know what will happen .
Sorry I repeated I tell you and it is also over 100 🙁
When I was told that I would be working here I was excited until they told me that I would be sleeping in the dock. That night I didn’t sleep. I listened to the sound of Churchill shouting angrily and the rats scurrying underneath my feet.
I had to wake up early. I sat down at my desk, knowing I would be here for a long time. I have to connect the phones to different places and spy on people’s conversations.
I have been thinking about my family a lot now the Blitz has started. I hope they are ok.
Beneath the streets I lay,
Thinking nothing of a fateful day,
Until I saw, windy on the sign,
I had thought, everything was fine,
In the docks I lay,
Worrying this was my last day,
Telling myself that I was safe,
Alas, London was getting strafed,
A simple want for a typist job,
For my friends and family my heart throbs,
Felling the heat of the flames,
The Luftwaffe came,
Destroying everything we knew,
Leaving us in certain doom,
Yet still I got myself into bed,
Knowing my loved ones could be dead,
Beneath the streets I lay,
Waiting, Hoping.
Beneath the streets,
where no one goes,
no one sees,
or even knows.
Beneath the streets,
where the rats run free,
the sewers flow,
it’s home to me.
Beneath the streets,
I scramble and dash,
where rain flows,
quick as a flash.
Beneath the streets,
where it’s dark and grubby,
I’d better stop eating,
I’m getting chubby.
Beneath the streets,
that is home to muck,
something’s coming towards me,
I’d better duck.
Beneath the streets,
we hear the bombs,
they drop on us,
Gong, Gong, Gong
But beneath the streets are where decisions are made, by Churchill and his war parade.
I slipped through the cracks of dirt, my slimy segments penetrating my vast home. I felt a shocking detonation above, quaking my fragile form. The taste of terror seeped through my mouth, sending waves of quivers down my spineless body. A violent vibration consumed me, pushing the air closer and closer. I rocketed to the surface, gasping for oxygen. The dazzling light made me shrivel. Beings all shapes and sizes scattered around, with leathery boots and crimson skin. Some ran, some lay, their pale faces staring into a void. Suddenly, pain struck. Was this the end or a new beginning?
If it got hit
Beneath the streets is where we sat,
I was still wearing my pink fluffy hat,
That my beloved one gave me,
Before he got sent of to the navy,
Beneath the ground I am safe.
I got a call from the R.A.F this morning,
We were going to attack this evening,
I told the man himself at once,
He said I was not a dunce,
Beneath the ground I am safe.
But word got out to the Germans,
I said we would not hurt them,
But they were feisty and fought back,
That was the end of my life,
Beneath the ground I’m not safe.
Sorry a bit over 100.
Beneath the Streets
^^^^^^^^^^^^^
May 19th 1940, Auschwitz,
I couldn’t see what my crime was! I had helped a toddler run away from Hitler! She hadn’t done anything! She wasn’t Jewish! She was Polish!
May 20th 1940, Berlin
If the soldiers found this, I would be put to death! I climbed down the drain earlier, and now I am beneath the streets of Berlin.
May 27th 1940, Dunkirk
The past week has been hectic, what with the British soldiers finding me! I am now writing this in terror, as the Nazis are advancing! How did this happen?!
June 4th, Dover
Safely in England! Finally!
Sorry may not be exactly accurate or 100 words! ????
Today was a difficult one. As Churchill’s secretary, it was my job to type up all of his famous speeches. I had wandered down, awaiting his arrival in the typing room, and stopped too have a hearty talk to a fellow worker. But alas, we had been to loud. Churchill himself walked out, angry and red in the face. he ‘shut us up’ and retreated back to his bedroom, and didn’t make that speech the public were hoping for. It was all my fault, oh dear!