WW2 GAS MASKS FOR BABIES: A POEM...

Floss And The Gas Masks For Babies…

Mrs Muggins next door to us,

Floss, she liked to be called,

Had triplets, all born within two hours.

The nurses were quite appalled.

All three were ugly, just like their mum

And loud, their cries were like shouts;

The boy grew up smelling like cabbage,

The girls both reeked of sprouts.

Once, when they were just two years of age

Floss set off to the store

To claim her rations and stand in a queue,

But her pram sagged close to the floor.

A bag, an umbrella and three baby gas-masks

Hung from the contraption on wheels;

The triplets bobbed their heads up and down

Like three identical seals.

A siren sounded: Gas Attack!

And Floss was forced into action,

She pulled on her own mask terribly quickly

Improving her looks just a fraction.

She panicked and looked at the bawling brats,

The smell of soiled nappies was acute;

She grabbed one of their masks and then her Tommy

And shoved in the wailing young brute.

She strapped him in and belted him up

Then forced in six pumps of air;

She repeated the process with Bertha and young Floss,

All done with the minimum of care.

The triplets were bellowing, taking minimal breaths,

Their nappies were gradually filling;

She hung the masks on the sides of her pram

And prayed she’d get home, “God willing…”

Big Floss unlocked her door and unclipped the babes

Then carried them into the hall;

The masks came off, they had all survived,

Despite the rather close call.

The tears still flowed but the masks lay silent,

They had done their jobs well, no doubts,

Yet when Floss removed hers there was the unmistakeable odour

Of faeces, cabbage and sprouts.

Pete Ray

The problems associated with babies’ gas masks during World War 2 on the Home Front…

Probably fortunate that they were never actually needed…

The images are from my WW2 teaching sessions in Birmingham Museum...