Blitzwalkers

The First of The Many

2012-03-17T13:47:00.008Z

In July 1940, France had fallen and the whole of Europe was under Nazi domination. Britain along with her Empire and Commonwealth stood alone. Across the Atlantic, it was not yet an American war and indeed, there were many within that country that intended things to remain that way. The American Ambassador to Britain, Joseph Kennedy, felt that Britain was finished and reported back to President Roosevelt that "Democracy is finished in England. It may be here." Kennedy's comments, along with his anti-semitic views and his increasing defeatism were viewed with dismay by Roosevelt and he was to be replaced as Ambassador in November 1940.

Kennedy's views were not representative of most Americans and although at this time most were wary of involvement in what was still seen as someone else's war, some did want to join the fray, whether for reasons of anti-Nazism, for the love of freedom or perhaps just for fun. Despite official disapproval and attempts by FBI agents to stop them crossing into Canada or joining trans Atlantic vessels, some Americans managed to avoid these attempts and joined the RAF in ones and twos. An amazing trio who were amongst the first to join up were Pilot Officers Eugene 'Red' Tobin, Vernon 'Shorty' Keough and Andrew Mamedoff (pictured at top of page). They had initially travelled to France with the intention of joining the French Air Force but having arrived there during the death throes of that country, managed to escape to England by the skin of their teeth on the final ship to depart from St Jean de Luz before it fell to the Nazis.

Once in London, the American Embassy, no doubt under the influence of Kennedy's defeatism tried without success to send the trio back to the States but they evaded 'capture' and managed eventually to enlist in the RAF. All three were already accomplished civilian flyers but Keough almost failed his entry medical, because at 4 feet 10 inches, the medical board were not convinced that he would be able to see out of the cockpit of a modern fighter plane. Keough was prepared for this eventuality and proved to the medics that with the aid of two cushions, he could see over the edge of the cockpit, albeit with only his eyes and helmet showing!

All three were accepted into the service and after training on Hurricanes and Spitfires were posted to 609 Squadron based at Warmwell, Somerset in time to participate in the Battle of Britain, with Tobin being credited with two shared 'kills'. By September 1940, there were so many American pilots who had joined the RAF, it was decided to form dedicated 'Eagle Squadrons' formed only from Americans and this trio had the honour of being the first three pilots of 71 Squadron based at Drem in Scotland. Within a year though, all three had been killed in action or in the case of Mamedoff, in a flying accident.

However, the first American to serve with the RAF was Billy Fiske (pictured above), who in other lives was also a film producer, stockbroker and a double Olympic bobsleigh champion. Fiske was an anglophile, who had attended Trinity Hall, Cambridge where he studied Economics and was also married to Rose Bingham, Countess of Warwick. Fiske turned down the opportunity to represent his country again at the 1936 Winter Olympics in Germany on account of his disapproval of Nazism and settled down to work for the New York bankers Dillon, Reed & Co., in their London offices, remaining until recalled to the States in mid 1939. However, in late August 1939, shortly before the outbreak of war he returned to London and enrolled in 601 (County of London) Squadron of the Royal Auxiliary Air Force, also known as the 'Millionaire's Squadron' on account of the many prominent and wealthy society members who formed it's membership.

In order to satisfy US neutrality laws, Fiske had to masquerade as a Canadian but having been admitted into the RAF in March 1940, he wrote in his diary "I believe I can lay claim to being the first US Citizen to join the RAF in England after the outbreak of hostilities."

On 16th August 1940, whilst based at RAF Tangmere, 601 Squadron was vectored to intercept Ju87 Stukas which were heading to attack this important RAF Sector Station. The Hurricanes took a heavy toll of the attacking Stukas, shooting down eight of the lumbering but deadly dive bombers. However, a German gunner firing back managed to put a bullet through the fuel tank of Fiske's Hurricane. Despite serious damage to his aircraft and extensive burns to his hands and ankles, Fiske chose not to bail out but instead nursed his Hurricane back to Tangmere and landed safely. He was extracted from his damaged fighter just before it's fuel tank exploded and taken to the Royal West Sussex Hospital in Chichester but died 48 hours later from surgical shock. Billy Fiske was 29 years old and had the sad honour of being the first American citizen to die during the Second World War.

By July 1941, there were three Eagle Squadrons; 71, 121 and 133 and with the Battle of Britain having ended in November 1940, these squadrons became engaged in Fighter Command's offensive fighter sweeps over German occupied Europe. Following the official entry of the United States into the war in December 1941, the Eagle Squadrons continued within the RAF for the time being but it was clear that many of the American pilots wanted to join the fight against the Japanese.

However, this was not to be and it was not until September 1942 that the Eagle Squadrons were formally transferred to the USAAF and became part of the fledgling Eighth Air Force of the USAAF, becoming the 334th, 335th and 336th Squadrons of the 4th Fighter Group, retaining their Spitfires until they were eventually replaced by American Thunderbolts in 1943. It is a telling statistic of the attrition rate of air warfare at the time to observe that out of the 34 original Eagle Squadron pilots in September 1940, only 4 were still present to witness the transfer to the USAAF. The remainder were either dead or prisoners of war.

The 334th, 335th and 336th live on today, still as part of the 4th Fighter Wing as it is now called, based at the Seymour Johnson Air Force Base in Goldsboro, North Carolina. The wartime Eagle Squadrons are commemorated in London with a memorial located in Grosvenor Square, close to the American Embassy.

Apart from British pilots, 'The Few' was a force comprising many nationalities. As we have seen above, there were Americans present but there were also pilots from Australia, New Zealand, Canada, South African, Rhodesia, Jamaica, Ireland, Poland, Czechoslavakia, Belgium, France and Palestine. We owe them all a huge debt of gratitude.

Published Sources:

Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange: Grub Street 2008
The Most Dangerous Enemy - Stephen Bungay: Aurum Books 2000
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood with Derek Dempster: Tri Service Press 1990

Website and Blog changes

2012-03-16T20:44:00.002Z

The eagle-eyed amongst you may have noted some subtle changes to the design of our main Blitzwalkers website. Our forthcoming walks are now advertised on their own dedicated page under the tab of 'Next Walks', which can be found by clicking either on the appropriately named bomb, or by the separate shortcut at the top of each page.

The dedicated followers of this blog need not despair, as we now have our own embedded page within the website, which is not surprisingly reached by clicking on the bomb entitled 'Blog' or for the large numbers of you that follow via Twitter, we'll still be available via our blogspot in same way as usual.

So to all our followers and walkers both old and new, thanks for your continued support and be sure to keep reading!

George Cross Heroes

2012-02-19T17:19:00.009Z

The George Cross is the highest civilian award for gallantry and is indeed, the civilian equivalent of the Victoria Cross. The George Cross can also be awarded to members of the armed forces for similar acts of bravery when not in the face of the enemy, such as bomb disposal operations. Quite simply, both of these awards are for extraordinary acts of bravery and as such, the award of either of these medals is a rare event worthy of note.

The origins of the George Cross lay at the height of the London Blitz in September 1940. It was felt by many, not least of whom was King George VI, that the many acts of civilian bravery that were occurring could not be rewarded by any of the existing military or civilian awards. So it was then that on 24th September 1940 that the King instituted the new award with the following statement:

"I have decided to create, at once, a new mark of honour for men and women in all walks of civilian life. I propose to give my name to this new distinction, which will consist of the George Cross, which will rank next to the Victoria Cross, and the George Medal for wider distribution."

The Warrant for the medal was published in the London Gazette and described the conditions for it’s award thus:

"The George Cross, which may be awarded posthumously, is granted in recognition of acts of the greatest heroism or of the most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme danger."

The Warrant goes on to state:

"The Cross is intended primarily for civilians and award in Our military services is to be confined to actions for which purely military Honours are not normally granted."

So it can be seen that the George Cross is not awarded lightly and as in the case of the VC it is fair to state that the award is given to ordinary people who have proved themselves capable of extraordinary actions

In the paragraphs that follow, we shall take a look at four such awards to people from different backgrounds and serving in vastly differing roles but united by their extraordinary courage.

The very first George Cross was awarded for an act of bravery that occurred before the Blitz proper started and went to Thomas Alderson, a 37 year old ex Merchant Navy engineer, turned council worker and part time ARP Warden in Bridlington. In August 1940, this coastal town attracted the attention of the Luftwaffe, presenting an easy to find target at a time when London was still strictly out of bounds on Hitler’s direct instructions. On three separate occasions, Alderson led rescue teams into badly damaged buildings and at great personal risk, managed to extract the injured civilians. Alderson’s award was to set the tone for many others to follow.

Sub Lieutenant Francis Brooke-Smith was a Royal Naval Reserve officer who volunteered for Mine Disposal work at the beginning of the war, having been called up from his peacetime Merchant Navy occupation. The Germans had adapted naval mines for use as air burst bombs and due to their maritime provenance, the Royal Navy was called upon to deal with them. By December 1940, Brooke-Smith had already successfully dealt with sixteen mines when he was called to defuse one which had lodged itself on a fireboat, the Firefly, in the Manchester Ship Canal. The mine was lodged firmly alongside a deckhouse and with great difficulty he was able to move it slightly with a rope so as to access the fuse. Then, lying at an awkward angle on the deck, he was able to extract the fuse, staying on the job even when the mechanism started ticking again and completing the task before the mine exploded. For this act of bravery, he was awarded his George Cross and perhaps fearing he had used his allocation of luck, was posted to North Atlantic convoy duty in the ex-American ‘four stack’ destroyer HMS Broadwater. He was still serving in this vessel when she was torpedoed whilst escorting convoy SC48 on 18th October 1941. Brooke-Smith was commended for ensuring the destruction of the destroyer’s confidential books and for helping with the evacuation of the survivors. If ever there was a case of ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’, then this was it. After the war, Brooke-Smith went back to the Merchant Navy and served on trans-Atlantic liners before tragically being killed in a road traffic accident in December 1952, aged 34.

Another Royal Navy mine disposal officer was Lieutenant Ernest Oliver Gidden, known to all as Mick. He had already been awarded a George Medal for his work in defusing a mine which had fallen between two houses in Harlesden, north London in September 1940. On the night of 16th/17th April 1941, London was hit by the heaviest raid so far of the Blitz – an early birthday present for Hitler. A parachute mine had fallen on to Hungerford Bridge, the main railway line crossing the River Thames into Charing Cross Station. The mine had fused itself onto the live rail but by using a hammer and chisel Gidden managed to turn the weapon over and eventually, after six hour’s work, he removed the fuse and made the mine safe. For this extraordinary act, Mick Gidden was awarded the George Cross; one of only eight people awarded both the George Cross and the George Medal.

The Rescue Squads were a curious breed; some of them were no angels and instances of looting often cast a finger of suspicion at these men. They were also had something of a reputation for a rough sense of humour, perhaps understandable given the sometimes grim nature of their work. These men sometimes armed with no more than picks and shovels tunnelled and burrowed their way into ruined buildings in a bid to rescue trapped survivors. Many of these men were ex miners, tunnellers or those otherwise used to working in confined spaces. One such man was Anthony Smith (pictured), a member of the Chatham Heavy Rescue Squad. Tony had served in the Royal Marines during the Great War and had lost three fingers on one hand on the Somme in 1917. A chimney sweep by trade, his injury had precluded him from re-enlisting on the outbreak of war in 1939, so he had joined the Rescue Service in order to ‘do his bit.’ Although the main Blitz on London had ended in May 1941, the ‘Little Blitz’ of late 1943/early 1944 was the Luftwaffe’s last throw of the dice before the introduction of the Terror Weapons. These raids were insignificant in comparison with the Blitz of 1940 but they presented another blow to the war weary city and her inhabitants. On the night of February 23rd 1944, a High Explosive bomb, probably aimed at the Lots Road Power Station on the River Thames, fell instead on a Guinness Trust tenement block in Edith Grove, Chelsea which collapsed with many people trapped inside the buildings. To make matters worse, the basement of the wrecked building began to flood from a burst main, endangering those who had survived the bomb with drowning instead. Tony Smith and his rescue squad arrived and set to work. Smith heard the cries for help from one Sam Mitchell, a baker trapped in the basement and without a thought for his own safety, Smith entered the basement through a hole in the rubble. This hole collapsed behind him, trapping Smith also but he pushed on, found and freed Mitchell and dragged him to safety through the rear of the building where he kicked through a wall to safety. Without pausing, Smith re-entered the ruins and rescued a woman in the now rapidly flooding basement. Smith and his fellow rescue squad workers toiled all night under arc lights to free survivors and recover bodies. Some 76 people died at Edith Grove that night but many survived thanks to the efforts of Anthony Smith and his colleagues. He was deservedly awarded the George Cross on May 30th 1944 and subsequently made a Freeman of the Borough of Chelsea.

In previous articles in this blog, we have looked in more detail at other recipients of the George Cross and in this entry we have scratched the surface of the stories of some more of these brave men. No doubt, we will look at others again in the future, for their stories never fail to inspire, even some seventy years on.

Published Sources:

The Blitz – Constantine Fitzgibbon, Macdonald 1957
Fulham in the Second World War – Leslie Hasker, Fulham & Hammersmith Historical Society 1984
Ordinary Heroes – David Walker, The Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea
The People’s War – Angus Calder, Jonathan Cape 1969

Flight Lieutenant Richard Carew Reynell RAF

2012-02-05T00:22:00.009Z

An early part of the process of researching a Blitz Walk is to go through the relevant local authority Civil Defence, or ARP Incident Log. Only by doing this, can we get an idea of what happened in any given locality, to see if there are any incidents, major or minor, that are likely to yield any personal accounts or photographs, or both, that are so vital in providing a series of 'stands' along the route of our chosen walk that make for what we hope will be an entertaining and informative experience for our walkers.

Sadly, in what today seems a remarkable act of cultural vandalism, some local authorities destroyed their Civil Defence records in the 1960s and 70s, perhaps at a time when Second World War history was of limited interest and when there were still plenty of veterans who could relate their experiences. Fortunately, these boroughs in London were in the minority and today when history is firmly back on the agenda, many of the London Boroughs have excellent archives and heritage centres where one can examine all manner of local history, not least amongst them being records from The Blitz.

One such source of information is the excellent Greenwich Heritage Centre located at the old Woolwich Arsenal site and it was whilst researching the Incident Log and Photo Library for what was to become my first Blitz Walk in my own locality of Blackheath and Greenwich that I first chanced upon the story of Flight Lieutenant Richard Carew Reynell and how he met his end, almost on my doorstep, on Saturday 7th September 1940 - the first day of The Blitz.

There in the archives, I discovered a photograph of Richard - 'Dickie' to his friends and squadron colleagues - and wondered why the archives of a south east London borough contained a photograph of a rather dashing looking RAF Officer. I found the answer to my question almost immediately afterwards with the discovery of a couple of newspaper cuttings which began to give up the first shreds of the story. A few days later, when transcribing the Incident Log, I came upon one of the many entries made on 'Black Saturday', that fine late summer's afternoon that saw Goring's Luftwaffe hitting London hard for the first time. That entry simply reads "7th Sept 1940 - Incident 6A - 3- Kidbrooke Gardens - RAF Parachutist badly injured."

And that was it, no further detail, just a photograph, two newspaper cuttings and a terse entry in an Incident Log written hastily in the heat of battle some 70 years ago. The newspaper cuttings did tell us that Dickie Reynell had been alive when he fell to earth but had sadly died before he could be taken to hospital. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission website, as always provided invaluable information regarding Dickie's squadron, service number and his burial place. Further help came from the superb work of the Aircrew Remembrance Society who were able to furnish the details of the aircraft he was flying and some important background information. They also provided a link to Dickie's original obituary from 'Flight' magazine of October 1940, which told that Dickie was an Australian - apart from Britons, many of 'The Few' were from the Empire and Commonwealth as well as Allied countries conquered by the Nazis. All of a sudden, Dickie Reynell was not just a photograph of any one of the brave men of 'The Few' - he was a real person, undoubtedly brave, with an interesting past, who died doing the job he loved and who perished helping to defend my City and furthermore, defending my local neighbourhood.

Then last week, I was approached by that redoubtable local blogger, The Greenwich Phantom, who in turn had been approached by Andrew Rennie, an author in Dickie's native Australia, who is preparing a biography of the man and who is trying to piece together the final hours of his life. So, without in any way wishing to steal Andrew's thunder - in any case this blog can only scratch at the surface of a story like this - it now seems a fitting time to share with you the story of this brave man, one of some 510 RAF aircrew, British, Commonwealth and Allied, who gave their lives during the Battle of Britain.

Richard Carew Reynell was born in 1912, in Reynella, South Australia, where his family owned a large winery estate. Dick's father was Lieutenant Colonel Carew Reynell, who had been killed at Gallipoli in 1915 whilst serving with the 9th Australian Light Horse. In 1929, Dick came to this country to study at Oxford but soon joined the Oxford University Squadron and having discovered his love of flying, abandoned his studies and joined the RAF in 1931, with whom he served in 43 Squadron at RAF Tangmere. He was a natural flyer and in 1937, joined the Hawker Aircraft Company as a test pilot and thus was involved from an early stage with the Hurricane, one of the new generation of monoplane, eight gun fighters which, along with the Spitfire was to prove the saviour of this country during the Battle of Britain. His obituary in "Flight" Magazine describes how he demonstrated the Hurricane at the Brussels Air Show before the war to a distinguished audience, including General Erhardt Milch, at that time Secretary of the Reich Aviation Ministry, where his display was an amazing demonstration of the Hurricane's capabilities. Dickie was not a 'show off' pilot but was a consummate professional, who believed in doing everything well. He also possessed a great technical knowledge of his aircraft; in short he was the perfect test pilot.

Dick continued to serve at Hawker's but in August 1940, had returned to 43 Squadron in order to evaluate the Hurricane's performance in combat conditions and to recommend modifications that could be made in the light of wartime experience. His touch had not left him however and by 7th September he had already been credited with shooting down one enemy aircraft as well as a number of 'probables' to his name. On the 7th September, he was scheduled to return to Hawker's to resume his duties owing to the death of another of the Company's test pilots but in the event, he opted to stay with 43 Squadron until the end of that day's flying.

Saturday 7th September 1940 dawned as a beautiful late summer's day. Some people were working in their wartime jobs, whilst others, seeking a measure of normality attended more traditional pursuits such as football matches in the limited wartime leagues that had recently resumed. A few bombs had fallen on the suburbs of London and on 24th August, some had even fallen on the City and north London as a result of a navigational error by a small number of bombers but until this day, the capital had escaped the worst attentions of the Luftwaffe.

However, this was not to last; as a result of the bombs falling on 24th August, Churchill had ordered a retaliatory raid on Berlin and although the damage caused had been miniscule, the loss of face had caused Hitler to fly into a rage and to pledge that British cities would be wiped from the map. So it was then, at 4.30 p.m. on Saturday 7th September that the air raid sirens sounded their mournful wail over London and the fighter squadrons of the RAF, hitherto used to defending their own airfields and shipping in the Channel, were vectored to intercept the raiders as they crossed the coast and headed towards the sprawling capital.

For this first, daylight phase of the attack, Goring had deployed some 348 bombers escorted by 617 fighters from Luftflottes II and III commanded by Albert Kesselring and Hugo Sperrle respectively. As the sirens sounded, Fighter Command had all of the 21 squadrons within 70 miles of London either in the air or at readiness. The first two RAF squadrons to intercept the raiders were 602 Squadron and Dickie Reynell's 43 Squadron, both from Tangmere. As they broke through the haze at 16,000 feet, somewhere over Beachy Head, the sight that encountered them was something that the RAF pilots had never seen before. A seemingly endless array of bombers and fighters, against which stood some 20 Spitfires and Hurricanes.

After harrying the enemy through to the south-eastern suburbs of London, Dick got into a tangle with a Bf109 and at about 5 p.m., over Blackheath, his Hurricane, serial number V7257 was blown into three pieces; the engine fell through the roof of St Ursula's Convent, starting a fire. The main bulk of the aircraft fell on the area of Blackheath known as Crown Point, whilst Dick himself was blown out of the aircraft and fell, without deploying his parachute at nearby Dartmouth Grove, where terribly injured, he died at the scene. The Incident Log, written in the heat of the moment described the scene of his death wrongly as Kidbrooke Grove, a nearby road and this error was sadly compounded on his Death Certificate.

Thus passed Richard Reynell, like so many casualties of war a victim of circumstances; if he had decided to return to Hawker's that morning he could well have survived the war and gone on to an even more illustrious career as a test pilot. Dick left behind a widow, Enid Marjorie as well as a baby son and his death was part of what proved to be a day of heavy losses for Fighter Command; 18 Hurricanes and 10 Spitfires were lost and more importantly than the machines which could be replaced were the men who could not. Apart from Dick, another of those killed was his close friend and 43 Squadron Commander, Sq/Ldr Caesar Hull of South Africa, who died when his Hurricane was brought down in the grounds of Purley High School.

The daylight raiders wreaked a terrible price on the ground; large swathes of the East End, the Surrey Docks and the Woolwich Arsenal were ablaze with the fires lit acting as a beacon for a further 247 German bombers from Luftlotte III returning in a second wave to stoke the inferno. By dawn, some 400 British civilians were dead. The raids were not without cost to the Luftwaffe - they had lost some 37 aircraft together with their crews killed or captured but considering the size of the attacking force, this was the Luftwaffe's day (and night). Retribution was to follow but for now, the RAF and Londoners had to lick their wounds.

Richard Reynell is buried at Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey, far away from his native Australia but as mentioned earlier, Andrew Rennie is planning a book which will commemorate his life and achievements. If anyone reading this blog has any information on Richard Reynell, either through family recollections or perhaps as an eye witness of his final moments, albeit perhaps as a small child watching on Blackheath, then please get in touch as Andrew is anxious to tie up as many loose ends as possible in tracing the last hours of this brave man.

Watch this blog for an announcement in due course as to when Andrew's book is to be published; this writer, for one will be certain to purchase a copy.

Printed Sources:

Backs To The Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1971
Flight Magazine - October 31st 1940
The Most Dangerous Enemy - Stephen Bungay, Aurum Press 2000
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood with Derek Dempster, Tri Service Press 1990

Internet Sources:

www.thegreenwichphantom.co.uk
www.cwgc.org
www.aircrewrembrancesociety.com

Unpublished Sources:

Metropolitan Borough of Greenwich Civil Defence Incident Log - Greenwich Heritage Centre
Greenwich Heritage Centre Photo Library
Andrew Rennie's (so far) unpublished work

Winston Churchill, the Iron Curtain and St Mary Aldermanbury

2012-01-14T21:13:00.000Z

"From Stettin in the Baltic to Trieste in the Adriatic, an iron curtain has descended across the Continent."

So spoke Winston Churchill at Westminster College, in Fulton, Missouri on March 5th 1946. The wartime Prime Minister, by now out of office, was making his first visit to the United States since losing the Premiership at the General Election of July 1945. Since acceding to the Presidency in March 1945, following Franklin D Roosevelt's death, Truman had become a firm friend and admirer of Churchill. Following his defeat in the 1945 General Election, Churchill was invited by Truman to visit his home state of Missouri and with its British connections, Westminster College seemed the ideal venue for Britain's wartime leader, the consummate parliamentarian, to give his first major post war speech, entitled "Sinews of Peace" in which he would speak of his hopes for the future and to warn the World of the impending Cold War.

Westminster College was founded in 1849 by Presbyterians as Fulton College and given it's present name in 1851. At the time of Churchill's visit, it was not a particularly well known establishment, even within the United States. Churchill's speech expressed his fears that the Soviet Union had designs on Europe that had shattered the ideal of a free, liberated continent. Indeed, a large part of eastern Europe had merely swapped one kind of tyranny for another. Churchill feared another war, and in his speech expressed his hopes for a "fraternal association of the English speaking peoples" to work together in preventing such a war. At the time, the speech was received coolly by some but others, Truman included, embraced Churchill's proposals and within a few short years they were to become accepted American and British policy in the form of the NATO alliance which as well as the English speaking peoples, also embraced all of the non-Communist countries of Europe.

President Truman had predicted that Churchill's speech would place Fulton, Missouri and Westminster College firmly on the map and as the years went by following the speech, senior figures at Westminster College began to think of ways to commemorate both the "Sinews of Peace" speech and also the life of the man who had delivered it. In 1961, the then President of the College, Dr Robert Davidson read an article in Life Magazine about the London Blitz and how large areas of the City of London, including many historic Wren churches, were still derelict and about to be demolished for redevelopment; what Londoners used to call "bomb sites". Soon a plan began to formulate in Davidson's mind to salvage one of these churches and import it to Fulton, stone-by-stone and rebuild it as a suitable memorial to Churchill, who epitomised the spirit of the Blitz and also to the process of renewal, of rising from the ashes of destruction.

The church of St Mary the Virgin, in Aldermanbury in the City of London had been located on this site since 1148. It had been rebuilt in the fifteenth century, destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666 and rebuilt once again, this time by Sir Christopher Wren in 1677. It was one of the great architect's smaller creations; a parish church, one of whose parishioners had been the notorious 'Hanging Judge' Jeffreys, who had achieved infamy during the "Bloody Assizes" of 1685 following Monmouth's rebellion, where he handed out some three hundred death sentences and transported around eight hundred to the West Indies. Captured following the fall of King James II in 1688, he died in custody at the Tower of London and although originally interred there, his body had been moved to St Mary Aldermanbury in 1692 and buried there, as was his right as a parishioner of that church.

The churchyard also contained a memorial to John Heminges and Henry Condell, also parishioners, who were members of the 'King's Men', the company of actors to which William Shakespeare had belonged and who were both editors of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays. The church itself contained an ancient chest and also an altar piece displaying a picture of the Last Supper by Franck, which had been presented to the church in 1777.

On December 29th 1940, this church, along with thirteen other Wren churches, was destroyed in the Luftwaffe's great fire raid on the City of London, which was later dubbed "The Second Great Fire of London." In this raid, the Guildhall was destroyed, as was St Brides Fleet Street, St Lawrence Jewry, St Alban Wood Street, St Stephen Coleman Street, St Vedast alias Foster and many others as the Luftwaffe dropped 10,000 incendiary bombs onto the City and came within an ace of destroying the financial centre of the British Empire. Only bad weather back in France prevented the bombers returning for what would surely have been a devastating second wave.

On this night, the church of St Mary the Virgin was reduced to a shell. The bones of Judge Jeffreys were reduced to ashes; the ancient chest, the font and the altar piece were all destroyed. Practically the only thing to survive unscathed was the memorial to Heminges and Condell in the churchyard which is still extant to this day.

Some of these grievously damaged Wren churches like St Bride's Fleet Street were to be painstakingly rebuilt after the war, whilst others such as St Alban Wood Street and St Augustine Watling Street would survive in truncated form with just the towers surviving. Others like St Stephen Coleman Street would be lost forever, their memory surviving only in pre war photographs.

It looked as if the Church of St Mary the Virgin would join the ranks of those lost, for it lay derelict for some twenty years after the Blitz; four walls and the spire standing seemingly unloved and by the early 1960s slated for demolition, doubtless to be replaced by another faceless office development. It was at this point that Dr Davidson's plan began to come together. The scheme had Churchill's backing and before he died in 1965, he had written to Davidson stating that the plan to remove and re-dedicate the church at Fulton "symbolized the ideals of the Anglo-American association, on which rest now as before, so many of our hopes for peace and for the future of mankind."

It took four years to raise the necessary three million dollars for the project and to make the plans for the removal of the building. The actor Richard Burton was a major promoter and donor and appeared on the NBC "Tonight" show to make a direct appeal for funding. In 1965, the removal process began; some 7,000 stones were carefully numbered, denoting their exact position in the church and were transported across the Atlantic by sea and onto Fulton, Missouri by rail. Once there, they were carefully rebuilt in what was described as the biggest jigsaw puzzle in architecture. Former President Truman had turned the first shovel in the construction works in 1964, in October 1966, some 300 years after the first Great Fire of London, the foundation stone was laid and by March 1967, construction work of the exterior was complete. The interior fit out took a further two years and working from surviving pre-war photographs, a faithful reconstruction of the interior was achieved. The organ was reconstructed by Noel Mander, the noted organ builder who had served as an Auxiliary Fireman during the Blitz and who had watched the church burn on the night of the 29th December. His familiarity with the pre-war church helped ensure complete authenticity in the rebuild. The church was re-dedicated as a place of worship on May 7th 1969, the same day that the Churchill Memorial, located beneath the church was also dedicated.

Sir Winston Churchill himself did not live to see the church rebuilt and transported to its new location but he would surely have been pleased with the result. The Churchill Memorial and Museum, now augmented by "Breakthrough" a statue incorporating eight sections of the former Berlin wall, that tangible symbol of the Iron Curtain, so memorably described by Churchill at Fulton in 1946. Since Churchill's speech, many other World leaders have followed in his footsteps and spoken at Westminster College; Ronald Reagan, Margaret Thatcher and perhaps most notably Mikhail Gorbachev in 1992, when he declared the end of the Cold War, thus adding a neat symmetry to history.

This then, is the odyssey of the Church of St Mary the Virgin. When Harry S Truman predicted to Winston Churchill that his speech would place Fulton, Missouri and Westminster College on the map, it came true in a way that perhaps neither of them could have realised. Likewise, Sir Christopher Wren could never have imagined that one of his churches would be destroyed by fire raining down from the sky delivered by man made machines. Perhaps even more fantastic to him would have been the thought, that once destroyed, his church would rise again having been rebuilt piece by piece in the far off New World.

Today, the footstep of the Church of St Mary the Virgin is a Grade II Listed Building and remains as a delightfully quiet garden in the midst of the City of London, whilst the main fabric of the church fulfils its original purpose in its new location in America.

Published Sources:

Churchill - Roy Jenkins, Macmillan 2001
The Lost Treasures of London - William Kent, Phoenix House 1947
The City Ablaze - David Johnson, William Kimber 1980

Internet Link:

www.churchillmemorial.org

1942; The end of the beginning

2012-01-04T16:52:00.009Z

Seventy years ago, the dawning of 1942 saw British fortunes during the Second World War at their lowest ebb but it was also a year when the tide began to turn, at first almost imperceptibly but by the year’s end, a tide which was flowing inexorably in the Allies’ favour.

Sunday 7th December 1941 had seen the Japanese attack on the American Naval Base at Pearl Harbour, which was quickly followed by attacks on British and Dutch possessions in the Far East. The British Crown Colony of Hong Kong had surrendered on Christmas Day 1941 and the Japanese were moving steadily through Malaya towards Singapore, which was to surrender ignominiously on 15th February 1942.

The attack on Pearl Harbour (pictured) did however, ensure the ultimate entry of the United States into the war, thus ending Britain’s lone stance against the Nazis. President Roosevelt initially held back from declaring war on Germany as well as Japan but Hitler and Mussolini pre-empted him by declaring war on the USA on 11th December, which was reciprocated immediately; so Britain was no longer alone but in almost every theatre of war, the British had their backs to the wall.

At sea, the Battle of the Atlantic was raging fiercely. The German U-Boats were enjoying their second ‘Happy Time’ attacking Allied shipping in the Caribbean and off America’s east coast, as well as taking a heavy toll of the convoys bringing much needed supplies to Great Britain. In the Far East, as we have seen above, the Japanese had begun their attacks on Allied possessions and in addition to Pearl Harbour had also sunk the British capital ships Prince of Wales and Repulse which had been sailing without air cover to intercept a Japanese invasion force but which themselves had become the hunted when they were destroyed by Japanese aircraft. In the Mediterranean, Malta was besieged and could only be re-supplied at heavy cost by battling through naval convoys. The Royal Navy had lost the modern carrier HMS Ark Royal and the battleship HMS Barham to torpedo attacks and had all of its heavy units in that theatre put out of action by the end of the year. For a moment, it looked as if the Royal Navy might lose their superiority in one of their traditional strongholds for the first time in the proud history of the Senior Service. It was not to happen but it was a close run thing.

On land, the Nazis were masters of Europe, whilst in the Mediterranean and North African campaign, Crete had fallen earlier in 1941 and although Rommel had been temporarily repulsed in the Western Desert, worse was to follow in 1942. The British Eighth Army was to be depleted by the need to send urgent reinforcements to fight the Japanese in the Far East and despite the warnings of the Commanding Officer, General Claude Auchinleck that his command was dangerously weakened, these warnings were not heeded and in May 1942, Rommel was to attack again, which was to ultimately lead to another British military disaster; the fall of Tobruk with the capture of 33,000 British and South African troops. A headlong retreat was to follow, with the British falling back to El Alamein, a then little known railway halt only 66 miles west of Alexandria, by July 1942.

In the air, the Royal Air Force, shared with it’s sister services the problem of having too few resources to share around too many theatres of war. Fighter Command, following the successes of the Battle of Britain had followed a disastrous policy of ‘leaning towards the enemy’ during 1941 and had seemingly learned nothing from the experiences of the Germans in 1940. The tried and tested defensive team of Sir Hugh Dowding and Keith Park had been replaced after the Battle of Britain; victims as much as anything of in-service petty jealousies and in-fighting, they had been replaced as Head of Fighter Command and in command of the all-important No. 11 Group by Air Chief Marshal Sir Sholto Douglas and Air Vice Marshal Trafford Leigh-Mallory respectively. The fighter sweeps favoured by these two had frittered away much of Fighter Command’s strength and although it was still a formidable defensive unit, many good men and fine aircraft had been lost needlessly. Within Bomber Command, the first steps had been taken to form a winning team; Air Marshal Sir Arthur ‘Bomber’ Harris was appointed in February 1942. At first, his command too was constrained by having too few aircraft and those that there were being outdated. He immediately set about re-evaluating Bomber Command’s tactics and energetically ensured the procurement of suitable modern aircraft, most notably the four engine Lancaster and Halifax heavy bombers as well as the superbly versatile Mosquito light bomber. Armed with these new weapons, Harris began to put his theories into practice; on 28th March 1942, the historic city of Lubeck was laid waste by a fire-storm started by the massed incendiary bombs dropped by Bomber Command and by 30th May 1942, the city of Cologne was overwhelmed, becoming the victim of the first thousand-bomber raid in history.

At home in Britain, the civilian population had seen no serious bombing since the bombing of Hull and Southampton in July 1941; London and Liverpool, though gravely damaged, had not been ‘Blitzed’ since May 1941 and although there had been ‘tip and run’ raids by lone raiders since this time, the feeling was that perhaps the worst really was over, although the news filtering back from overseas of what was seemingly one British setback after another could only give cause for concern.

However, the bombing of Lubeck was to ensure a resumption of the Blitz; although not on the same scale as what had gone before, this phase was to bring death and destruction to British towns and cities not hitherto affected by the German bombing. Lubeck, although it had some submarine building yards located reasonably close to it, was not a target of real industrial significance. It had been chosen as part of Harris’s new policy of affected the morale of the civil population and as he said himself – “it seemed better to me to destroy an industrial town of moderate importance than to fail to destroy a large industrial city.”

Lubeck was a historic Hanseatic city and in retaliation for it’s destruction, Hitler ordered the resumption of large-scale bombing against Great Britain. Because of Lubeck’s historic significance, the British targets were reputedly selected using the Baedecker’s Tourist Guide. Baron Gustav Braun von Stumm, an official at Goebbels’ Propaganda Ministry was heard to remark “We shall go out and bomb every building in Britain marked with three stars in the Baedecker Guide."

Thus the Baedecker Raids came to pass; Exeter (pictured), Bath, Norwich and York were all bombed by Luftflotte 3 between the 23rd and 28th April 1942 and following the thousand bomber raid on Cologne, the City of Canterbury was bombed three times on 31st May, 2nd and 6th June. Deal, Bury St Edmunds, Cambridge, Lowestoft, Great Yarmouth and Ipswich were also bombed in this period but on a much smaller scale to the Cathedral cities mentioned previously. Some 1,637 civilians were killed, with a similar number injured; some 50,000 houses were destroyed as were some historic buildings, notably the Guildhall in York and the Assembly Rooms in Bath, but the Cathedrals in all of these cities remained unharmed. The Baedecker Raids were smaller in scale than the First Blitz; the Luftwaffe’s squadrons had been dissipated by their needs on the Russian and North African theatres of war, thus proving that it was not only the British who were suffering from thinly spread resources. The Baedecker Raids petered out after the final raid on Canterbury and the Luftwaffe returned to the tip and run tactics of smaller raids by individual or small groups of aircraft. They were not to return to British shores in significant numbers until the ill-fated Operation Steinbock or as it was known to the British public, Little Blitz or Baby Blitz in late 1943.

For the remainder of 1942, the tide was turning; the British, together with their American allies, set about building a team to win the war. The first American troops arrived in Britain in early 1942, the vanguard of what was to become a vast army based on what was to become the ‘Springboard for invasion’ as these islands were to become known. The first elements of what was to become known as the U.S. Eighth Air Force – “The Mighty Eighth” – which along with RAF Bomber Command would ensure that Germany would be bombed around the clock arrived in England. In the Far East, the Americans began to fight back; first the Doolittle Raid, where a small force of B-25 Bombers were launched from the carrier Hornet to bomb Tokyo, a target thought by the Japanese to be hitherto unreachable by the Americans. Then at Midway, when the Japanese carriers that had bombed Pearl Harbour were themselves destroyed. In the Atlantic, the U-Boats were relentlessly hunted down by the Royal, Royal Canadian and US Navies and although they were to remain a threat for the remainder of the war, never again threatened to cut the supply lines.

The biggest victory of 1942 was one that has remained in the British annals of victory ever since. As related earlier, the British Eighth Army had fallen back onto an unknown railway halt in the Western Desert called El Alamein. In August 1942, Winston Churchill, on a visit to the North African theatre had dismissed the Eighth Army commander, Auchinleck and had replaced him with a figure little known outside the British Army, one Lieutenant General Bernard Montgomery. In three short months, ‘Monty’ as he was to become known, transformed the morale of the Eighth Army to such a point where they believed themselves invincible and won an ultimately crushing victory against an Afrika Korps, which had been weakened by lack of supplies and over extended supply lines. The battle had started on 23rd October 1942 and by 11th November, victory was certain; the Germans were in full retreat and by May 1943, the Eighth Army advancing westwards had linked up with an Anglo-American force advancing eastwards from the ‘Torch’ Landings under an equally then little known American general, a certain Dwight D Eisenhower and had swept the Axis out of North Africa for good.

At home, Churchill ordered that the church bells be rung; until then they had been reserved as an alarm call for an impending German invasion but now they were rung in celebration of a great victory. Speaking at the Lord Mayor’s Banquet, Churchill was to say “Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end, but it is perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

With American help in the form of manpower and their vast industrial strength and vitally with the Russians now sweeping in from the east to squeeze the life out of the Axis, he knew that victory, although not to be gained without more pain, was ultimately assured.

Published Sources:

Alamein - Stephen Bungay, Aurum Press 2002
Alamein: War without hate - John Bierman & Colin Smith, Viking 2002
Bomber Harris: His Life and Times - Henry Probert, Greenhill Books 2003
The Battle of The Atlantic - John Costello & Terry Hughes, Collins 1977
The Storm of War - Andrew Roberts, Allen Lane 2009
War Diaries 1939-1945: Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke - eds. Alex Danchev & Daniel Todman, Wiedenfeld & Nicolson 2001

Thanks for your support in 2011

2011-12-29T21:03:00.004Z

Neil guided our final walk for 2011 earlier today when he took a group of twelve hardy Blitzwalkers around the City of London. Despite the ordinary forecast, the worst of the weather held off until after we had completed our walk and many thanks are due to all those who supported us, not only today, but throughout the past year. Both Neil and I look forward to renewing old friendships during 2012 and to meeting new walkers as well. We have a couple of new walks planned for the New Year, so watch this space for details!

The blog will be updated regularly in the meantime, so you'll be able to keep in touch with us until our walks resume in the Spring of 2012.

1939: The first wartime Christmas, The Phoney War and a victory at sea

2011-12-22T20:43:00.012Z

The winter of 1939 was to prove one of the coldest for many years. In Germany there was thick ice in the Baltic, the Kiel Canal and the Rivers Elbe and Jade which hampered trade almost as much as the British naval blockade, which was beginning to affect the supply of food and essential products into the Reich. In France, the soldiers of the newly arrived British Expeditionary Force found the ferocity of the winter had frozen the ground so hard that they were unable to make much progress in digging the trenches and defensive systems that were seen as essential to the sort of war they were expecting to have to fight. In December 1939, the BEF introduced a forces’ leave service so that at least some of the men who had been in France since the previous September were able to spend Christmas at home with their families.

At home in Britain in December 1939, people were beginning to come to terms with the blackout. In September 1939, the casualty figures for road traffic accidents had increased by almost 100 percent over peacetime figures. This didn’t include people who suffered from other blackout-related mishaps, such as falling from railway platforms, walking into canals or falling down steps. By December, the imposition of more severe petrol rationing forced most private cars from the road, so traffic accidents began to decrease almost by default. A slight relaxation in the blackout also permitted civilians to carry hand torches, albeit masked but sufficient to help in finding one’s way around more safely. The dance halls, cinemas and theatres were packed out once again but the cold weather was beginning to play havoc with the public transport system; some main line express trains from Scotland and the north of England ran over a day late!

Although there had been no actual air raids over British cities by December 1939, there was no shortage of alerts, which showed up the many flaws and deficiencies in the ARP system, some of which were still apparent when the shooting war started in the spring and summer of 1940. This then, was the "Phoney War."

At sea however, this phrase was an anathema to the men of the Royal and Merchant Navies. The first ship to be sunk was the liner Athenia, torpedoed by Fritz Julius Lemp in the U-30 with heavy loss of life on 3rd September, just hours after the declaration of war. The Royal Navy had also suffered an early loss when the aircraft carrier HMS Courageous had been torpedoed by U-29 with the loss of 519 officers and men, including her captain. The Royal Navy had begun to sink U-Boats and was beginning the long and painful battle to overcome this menace but in December 1939, despite these and other high profile sinkings, the U-Boat was not a major threat. There were insufficient numbers of ocean-going submarines and without the French Atlantic coast bases that the Germans were later to capture, those submarines that were in commission did not yet have the direct access to the Atlantic convoys that was later to cause such carnage to Britain’s life lines.

In December 1939, the main threat to Britain’s merchant fleet came from the surface raider. Apart from the converted merchant vessels that tended to prey on vessels sailing alone, the Kriegsmarine had three specialised Panzerschiffen, known to the rest of the World as ‘pocket battleships’, so called because they were not armed quite to the same level as the conventional battleship but still powerfully equipped with six 11 inch guns and a heavy secondary armament. They were powered by diesel engines which gave a speed in excess of most British heavy units and more importantly gave these vessels a tremendous level of endurance, especially when operating in tandem with a supply tanker, meeting at pre-arranged rendezvous points in the open ocean.

One such vessel, the Graf Spee (pictured at top), under the command of Kapitan Hans Langsdorff (pictured below), had sailed from Wilhelmshaven shortly before the outbreak of war, on the 20th August 1939 and had been undetected as she sailed via the Norwegian coast and through the Denmark Strait into the Atlantic and her war station in the South Atlantic. The British only realised that she had sailed on the 31st August, some eleven days after she had departed. By then it was too late; units of the British Home Fleet patrolled the area around Norway and the Shetlands but Graf Spee was long gone and especially in these pre-radar days, finding a ship in the Atlantic that did not want to be discovered was like the proverbial needle in the haystack story.

It was only when British merchant ships began to disappear in the South Atlantic, around the Cape, off the coast of Lourenco Marques and finally off the coast of South America that British suspicions of a raider at large were confirmed. Graf Spee was operating in tandem with her supply vessel, the tanker Altmark and proved to be a formidable and elusive enemy. The Royal Navy immediately mobilised hunting groups of warships to track down the enemy and one of those hunting groups was the South Atlantic Squadron under Commodore (later Admiral Sir Henry) Harwood, flying his broad pennant in the cruiser HMS Ajax with two further cruisers Exeter and the New Zealand manned Achilles. These vessels more than matched the Graf Spee for speed but were vastly outgunned by the German vessel. Nominally Harwood had a fourth cruiser, the Cumberland but she was at Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands undergoing a self-refit, so already Harwood’s force was somewhat depleted. However, Henry Harwood was a shrewd operator and he had been using the intelligence available to him to try and calculate where he could intercept the raider. Many of the British ships sunk by the Graf Spee had bravely transmitted an ‘RRR’ signal together with a position, which indicated that the vessel had been attacked by a surface raider. It was doubly brave to send these warning signals as the Germans threatened dire consequences for any radio officers sending these messages. Fortunately for the British, Kapitan Langsdorff was an honourable man who did not take reprisals against his captives and was scrupulous in his fair and humane treatment of prisoners. The same could not be said of his counterpart, Kapitan Dau of the supply ship Altmark and the British merchant seaman held on board this vessel, whilst not physically harmed, were kept in squalid conditions in one of the ship’s holds. A number of British Merchant Navy officers were transferred to the Graf Spee for her anticipated voyage back to Germany and the difference in the treatment they received on the pocket battleship was notable.

Not all of the vessels intercepted by Graf Spee managed to send an ‘RRR’ report but enough did to allow Harwood to undertake some inspired detective work. Piecing together the reported positions of the sunken vessels, he was convinced that Graf Spee would return to the South Atlantic for one final tilt at the constant stream of British merchantmen heading from the River Plate with much needed meat for the home market.

Having made his dispositions accordingly, Harwood concentrated his three cruisers off the River Plate and waited for Graf Spee to appear. On December 13th 1939, the German pocket battleship obligingly sailed over the horizon. Harwood’s plan for this contingency was to split the enemy’s fire by dividing his own force; the two smaller cruisers Achilles and Ajax formed one division, whilst the more heavily armed Exeter was to fight alone. It was at this early point in the battle that Langsdorff made his first and ultimately fatal error. On approaching the British vessels, Langsdorff wrongly assumed that Exeter was the sole cruiser and that the two smaller vessels were escorting destroyers and closed accordingly to make a quick kill. Once he closed the range and had realised his mistake, it was too late. The three cruisers tore into the pocket battleship and harried her relentlessly. At first Exeter bore the brunt of the raider’s counter attacks and was soon turned into a blazing, sinking shambles with all of her main armament knocked out. At first Captain Bell of the Exeter considered ramming Graf Spee, but he was ordered by Harwood to retire from the battle and was soon heading towards the Falkland Islands which she eventually reached in order to lick her wounds. The remaining two lightly armed cruisers kept up the pressure, closing the range and hitting Graf Spee and hitting hard. Fearing that the two British vessels were leading him onto superior heavy forces, Langsdorff inexplicably turned and ran; heading towards the River Plate, he eventually reached the sanctuary of the River Plate within the territorial waters of the neutral country of Uruguay. She had suffered thirty seven men dead and fifty seven wounded and whilst the ship was in no way mortally wounded, she had been hit over fifty times and had suffered extensive damage. Unknown to the pursuing British forces, there were sixty one British Merchant Navy officers aboard who had fortunately been unhurt in the battle. Once the fighting was over, a different kind of battle was about to begin, involving diplomacy, bluff and counterbluff that was ultimately to cost Langsdorff his life.

Despite the strain he must have been under, Langsdorff once again proved his humanity and sense of honour by releasing his erstwhile prisoners according to international law. Afterwards, these officers to a man had nothing but praise and respect for their former captor.

It was estimated that Graf Spee’s battle damage would take fourteen days and during this time, Langsdorff knew that the British would be mustering reinforcements but what he was not to know was how long it would take for these reinforcements to arrive. It was now the 14th December and the nearest heavy British unit, the battlecruiser Renown and the aircraft carrier Ark Royal could not reach the River Plate until the 19th December but Langsdorff was not to know this. The British ambassador to Uruguary, Eugen Millington-Drake (pictured below with Harwood) and his naval attaché, Captain (later Admiral Sir Henry) McCall, used every trick in the book to conjure up an imaginary British fleet massing just over the horizon. German requests to charter light aircraft to survey this fleet were always rebuffed; no aircraft were ever available. The British also tried their hardest to get Graf Spee interned; Langsdorff must have been in mental turmoil.

Faced with an impossible situation, he decided to scuttle his ship and on the 17th December moved his ship into the shallower waters of the River Plate and after evacuating the remainder of his crew, shortly before 20:00 she blew up; demolition charges had been set by the crew and the Graf Spee was no more.

The watching British on the two remaining cruisers, by now reinforced by the Cumberland, which had made a helter-skelter dash from the Falklands watched with incredulity and relief; they had expected another bloody battle and could not have been certain of the outcome. As it was they had won a great victory, partially through hard fighting and partially through bluff but the Royal Navy had won the first major engagement of the war.

For the crew of the Graf Spee, internment in Argentina was on the agenda but for Langsdorff, and honourable man to the end, there was to be no such escape. On the evening of the 19th December, after addressing his officers and men for one last time, he retired to his hotel room, wrote three letters to his wife, his parents and one to the German Ambassador to Argentina. He then shot himself whilst wrapped in the ensign of the old Imperial Navy, rather than the Nazi flag.

Back home, the victorious ships’ companies marched through London and Winston Churchill, not yet Prime Minister but still at that time First Lord of the Admiralty proclaimed that the victory “in a dark cold winter, it warmed the cockles of the British heart.”

For those at sea, there was no Phoney War; for those at home, the war was still distant but 1940 would see a change that would bring the conflict home to everyone.

Published Sources

BEF Ships before, at and after Dunkirk – John de S Winser, World Ship Society, 1999
London at War 1939-1945 – Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson, 1995
The Battle of the River Plate – Dudley Pope, Secker & Warburg, 1987
The People’s War; Britain 1939-1945 – Angus Calder, Jonathan Cape, 1969
War in a Stringbag – Charles Lamb – Cassell, 1977

What Still Remains

2011-11-26T21:23:00.014Z

As a Blitz historian and part time guide for walks around the bombed areas of our capital city, this writer is often asked what clues of London’s wartime past remain visible. The answer is that perhaps surprisingly, there is still evidence to be seen; not exactly plentiful but certainly still out there if one uses one’s eyes, knows where to look or has the occasional piece of luck. Sometimes, it can be it a tip-off from a friend or occasionally one can blunder across a little gem by accident

Finding these pieces of our wartime heritage using one’s own detective skills is half of the fun, so it would not be right to spill the beans about everything that remains and this writer certainly does not profess to know about everything that still remains but for those that wish to make their walk to work or school, around their local neighbourhood or simply a stroll around a much loved area a little more interesting, here is a guide to the sort of thing that can still be spotted by the discerning eye.

Probably the most striking evidence of London’s bomb strewn past are the “honourable scars” worn by many buildings in the capital caused by bomb fragments, or shrapnel as it is more commonly known. Colonel Henry Shrapnel, whilst still a Lieutenant in the Royal Artillery in 1784, invented on his own initiative, a hollow cannon ball, filled with shot that after firing, burst in mid air, thus spreading the shot over the unfortunate soldiers beneath. This first crude form of anti-personnel weapon, when formally adopted by the British Army in 1803 was immediately christened the Shrapnel Shell and whilst during the Second World War, neither side used this sort of weapon against either civilians or military, any sort of bomb or shell fragments were also given the Colonel’s name.

So it is that many buildings in London still bear scars caused by this terrifying by-product of bombing. Some of the better known examples can be found at St Clement Danes Church in the Strand (pictured), the General Wolfe Statue in Greenwich Park, Waterloo Place in Westminster and perhaps best known, the Victoria & Albert Museum in Exhibition Road, which even has a helpful commemorative plaque explaining what the damage is, how it was caused and why it has been left unrepaired. There are many other examples of this sort of damage to be found right across London and it is probably the most vivid reminder to be seen of our wartime past. It also provides ample food for thought. If pieces of white hot steel, flying through the air at massive speed can cause the sort of damage to solid masonry that remains today, what it could do to the vulnerable human frame does not bear thinking about. If one does think about it, the bravery of the Air Raid Wardens, the Fire Brigade personnel, Police, Ambulance and other Civil Defence workers, both men and women exposed to this lethal barrage, defies belief.

Whilst out walking, look for the tacit signs of damage; the replacement brickwork around windows, the lighter coloured masonry that even after nearly seventy years, still hasn’t quite blended back in with the original, or the most tell-tale sign of all, a terrace of Victorian or Edwardian houses that is abruptly interrupted with a more recent building before resuming its original progression. These are all sure signs of bomb damage, not a dramatic memorial to the Blitz, but a memorial nevertheless. A closer examination of Civil Defence Incident Logs for the area concerned will usually prove one’s suspicions correct and will often reveal that on the site in question, people perished in the own homes. Each piece of repaired damage or replacement building is often therefore a mute memorial to times gone by.

Less widespread, but still visible in places are the painted Air Raid Shelter Signs. The Wartime lead-based paint was surprisingly durable, although with the passage of seventy-odd years, even the hardiest of these signs are starting to look their age now. In some cases, it is the paint used to obliterate the sign which has worn off, thus re-exposing them to public view long after they became obsolete. For some reason, there is a plethora of these Shelter signs in southeast London, with Deptford in particular, being the Shelter Sign Capital of London. Quite why London SE8 has so many of these surviving signs is a bit of a mystery; perhaps it is because (with all due respect to the area) it has escaped serious redevelopment until recently, perhaps it is just good luck. Whatever the reason, we can only hope that with the rediscovered interest in our Wartime past, some or all of these signs can be preserved. Already, one of these southeast London signs, in Jerningham Road, has been lost forever after the wall it was on was recently demolished as part of a housing scheme. Let us hope it is the last to be lost in this way, for these signs deserve to survive and act as a reminder of more troubled times. Apart from Deptford, there are Shelter signs to be found in Westminster, in Poplar and opposite the Oval Tube Station, although this sign has recently been partially covered with a street sign.

From Shelter Signs, we go to the Air Raid Shelters themselves. As has been discussed on this blog in the past, Shelters came in many shapes and sizes, from the corrugated Anderson Shelter in the back garden to the communal ‘Morrison Sandwich’ shelter via the Deep Level Shelters in Central London. Examples of all these and more remain; most Anderson Shelters have long since been uprooted from their original back garden locations but some remain as sheds on allotments in odd parts of the capital. The communal brick and concrete shelters were christened ‘Morrison Sandwiches’ by some laconic Londoners, when some of the early examples of these structures showed a propensity to collapse at the merest hint of a nearby blast. The concrete slab base and roof of these shelters provided the bread and when the poorly keyed in and frankly Jerry-built brickwork was blown out by the blast of a near-miss bomb, the unfortunate occupants of these buildings provided the meat in the sandwich – enough said. Some of these shelters still survive; Fawe Street in Poplar, Battersea Park, Raynes Park and Norbury all possess surviving examples as does the one pictured in the grounds of the National Physical Laboratory in Teddington. The Deep Level Shelters were built from 1941 based on the experiences of the London Underground stations used as shelters; eight were built in total, four north of the Thames at Chancery Lane, Belsize Park, Camden Town and Goodge Street and four south of the River at Clapham North, South and Common as well as at Stockwell. Designed to take 8,000 people each in relative comfort and unrivalled safety, these shelters all survive and the ungainly concrete entrance structures can all still be seen at these locations.

Altogether a rarer specimen of wartime signage is that which signifies the “EWS” or Emergency Water Supply. This usually takes the form of a white or sometimes yellow rectangle with diagonal black stripes painted across it with the letters E W S in the lateral and lower quadrants, with the water capacity shown in the upper. These Emergency Water Supplies were large static water tanks, originally formed from the sealed basements of bombed out building, but later often purpose built tanks designed to augment the Fire Brigades’ supply of water should the regular water mains be damaged by bombing. Few of these signs still survive; Camberwell Church Street has two splendid if slightly faded examples and Copperfield Street in Southwark still sports one. There is another example pictured on Albert Embankment and there are one or two others that remain dotted around London.

Other sundry structures remain; Wardens’ Posts, Pillboxes, Anti-Tank defences, Anti-Aircraft Gun emplacements, rifle loopholes and the like remain across our capital. Putney Bridge Station is the home to a highly visible pillbox, Blackheath is the home to a set of Home Guard rifle loopholes and Epsom Downs is the home to a set of Tank Traps. These defences all formed part of the ‘Stop Lines’ formed to slow down and delay the advance of the advancing Germans in order to buy time for the British defenders to call up reserves. Fortunately, these defences were never put to the test but this fascinating and untried part of our wartime history can still be seen gently crumbling away in many parts of suburban London. Mudchute Park on the Isle of Dogs is the home to an almost complete Anti-Aircraft emplacement (without the guns!) Wardens’ Posts are rarer creatures although one or two others are still extant; Blackheath and Kew Station are the home to two of them but there are others about.

Another evocative piece of wartime London still visible, albeit not being used for its original purpose and in declining numbers, is the once ubiquitous stretcher fencing. Mass produced in steel and wire mesh for the expected vast numbers of civilian casualties caused by German bombing, the ‘ARP’ stretcher was designed to be easily cleaned and re-used in clearing the dead and wounded. Many of these were never used and the war’s end saw hundreds of thousands of these simple pieces of equipment suddenly made redundant. In an early piece of recycling, an ingenious use was made of these stretchers in order to replace the wrought iron railings sacrificed for the war effort. There were also many new estates being built to replace the vast swathes of local authority housing destroyed in the Blitz. The stretchers provided a simple and effective solution and can still be seen in several locations across the London suburbs; Watergate Street in Deptford, Amherst Road in Hackney, the Springfield Estate in Stockwell are but three of the places that these can found.

Apart from these physical reminders, there are of course, an abundance of monuments which commemorate events, people and places connected with the wartime past, not only of this country’s wartime achievements but the Allied cause as a whole. So, across London we find plaques and statues galore commemorating such diverse personalities as the Polish General Sikorski, the Supreme Allied Commander of the Allied invasion at Normandy, Dwight D Eisenhower, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff Viscount Alanbrooke and General De Gaulle as well as many others. Plaques mark the spot of the first V-1 Doodlebug falling in Bow, the V-2 Long Range Rocket in Chiswick as well as the location of the Special Operations Executive, the Headquarters of the Norwegian Merchant Marine. There are also memorials to the fallen; across London there are still springing plaques erected by the charity Firemen Remembered marking the locations where members of the Fire Services fell in the course of performing their duties whilst under fire.

The reminders of our wartime past referred to above merely scratch the surface of what is still out there to be seen. As mentioned earlier, there is much enjoyment to be found in discovery and as always, any comments from the readership are welcomed. If you know of some aspect of London’s wartime heritage that can still be seen, then please feel free to share the information with us.

Remember

2011-11-11T20:19:00.009Z

At this time every year, we remember our war dead from all conflicts, culminating in the traditional ceremony held at The Cenotaph in London on the Sunday nearest to the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, which was Armistice Day of the First World War, the war to end all wars.

This prediction proved to be sadly optimistic, for within twenty one years the World was once again involved in a deadly conflict, and as well as horrendous casualties from the fighting services, this time around it was also the civilian populations of the World that bore the brunt. Whilst the nation’s remembrance commemorations tend to focus upon the fighting services, perhaps we should take time out to remember all who paid the ultimate price during the Second World War.

Remember the 60,000 civilians in Great Britain who died due to enemy air attacks and remember too, the approximately 500,000 German civilians who died in the Allied air attacks on their cities. The majority of these people weren’t Nazis but ordinary men, women and children caught by an accident of birth in the most appalling regime ever created by mankind. Never forget those killed in the bombing of Japanese cities; some 500,000 by conventional bombing alone as well as the 250,000 plus victims at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Remember all those victims of bombing in the ruined cities around the World; Rotterdam, Warsaw, Shanghai, Singapore, Dresden, Coventry and countless others too numerous to mention here.

Remember the airmen who laid down their lives in carrying out these operations and in trying to defend against them; 160,000 Allied airmen died in the European theatre of operations alone and 430,000 from the Luftwaffe.

Remember the men at sea; some 32,000 men of the Merchant Navy and Fishing Fleets died whilst keeping this country supplied with vital foodstuffs and the materials of war, along with approximately 50,000 of the Royal Navy. Of their enemies, out of a total 40,000 German U-Boat personnel, some 30,000 never returned; whatever one thinks of the German motives, their bravery was undeniable.

Remember those of all lands; in excess of 60 million people across the World. Remember Poland, the catalyst that started the inevitable; along with the Soviet Union, they suffered the greatest losses, approaching 14 percent of their pre-war populations, which in the case of the Soviet Union equated to a staggering 23 million dead. Remember the 6 million dead of The Holocaust; murdered because by the perverted standards of the Nazis they were ‘antisocial elements’ – in reality because they were Jewish, or Gypsy, or homosexual, or simply because they did not fit in with the Nazi ideal. Remember those Prisoners of War of the Japanese – British, Australian, Indians, Americans and many other nationalities who endured the most appalling privations in their captivity, many of whom were simply worked to death on the infamous Burma Railway, building airfields or whatever tasks their evil masters had in store for them.

Returning to this country, remember the Civil Defence workers – the Air Raid Wardens, Police, Fire, Ambulance, Rescue Squads, The Women’s Voluntary Service providing refreshments and running the Rest Centres – all of these people and more made the ultimate sacrifice in trying to protect and help the civilian population in their hours of need.

Air Raid Wardens for example; before the bombing started, they were often derided as do nothing busybodies. Nearly all volunteers, at their maximum strength there were some 1.4 million of them across the country, often ladies and gentlemen of a certain age, many of whom had already done their bit in the previous conflict. Despite their age, despite the derision, they joined up because they felt it was the right thing to do and once the bombs started falling showed the public what they were made of.

Remember too, the men and women of the Fire Services. As a result of the 1938 Munich Crisis, the Auxiliary Fire Service, or AFS was formed. Those who volunteered were paid the princely sum of £3 a week and because those who joined were exempt from the call up to the fighting services, in the Phoney War period, they became known as ‘£3 a week Army dodgers.’ This was totally unfair, for like the Wardens, those who joined were doing it simply because they felt it was the right thing to do. Many of those who joined the AFS were conscientious objectors who wanted to save lives rather than take them. When the bombing came, their bravery was never in doubt and they soon proved their worth. The ‘Army Dodging’ image evaporated and the Fire Services were dubbed as the ‘heroes with grimy faces’ by no less than Winston Churchill himself, whilst the Daily Express, which pre-war had been one of their biggest critics, stated that the AFS emblem ‘was a badge of honour, comparable to RAF wings or the cap badge of guardsmen.’ The Fire Services were removed from municipal control and nationalised from August 1941 as the National Fire Service or NFS and when peace returned in 1945, these men and women had overcome the original public ridicule and had taken their places alongside the heroes of the fighting services.

Remember then, the Civil Defence workers; some 2,379 were killed on duty, whilst another 1,750 civilian Fire Watchers, both men and women were killed due to enemy action, usually whilst in their exposed positions on the roofs of buildings during raids.

The Second World War ended in 1945 and since then, although the World has been officially at peace, there has been some sort of conflict involving British servicemen in some part of the World nearly every year since the end of the war. British servicemen continue to pay the ultimate price to this day, most recently in Iraq and Afghanistan. Whatever your views on these conflicts, remember these men too.

Because of its outcome – the destruction of Hitler’s Nazi regime, the toppling of Fascism in Italy and the smashing of Japanese militarism, admittedly partially offset by the rise of Stalinist tyranny in Soviet Russia – the Second World War has often been described as a ‘Good War’ and there is much truth in this theory - the World is undoubtedly a better place without Fascism. However, the price in human lives combined with devastated cities and civilisations was truly horrific.

The last century saw two World conflicts, both of which were described as being the war to end all wars. A third would certainly end all wars, probably along with everything else. Perhaps by remembering the human cost of previous wars, a future global conflict will be avoided.

Remember.

Published Sources for casualty figures:

A Brief History of Civil Defence - editor Tim Essex-Lopresti, Civil Defence Association 2005
Bomber Command 1939-45 - Richard Overy, Harper Collins 1997
Engage the Enemy More Closely - Correlli Barnett, Hodder & Stoughton 1991
Hitler's U-Boat War (two volumes) - Clay Blair, Cassell & Co. 2000
Strength & Casualties of the Armed Forces of the United Kingdom 1939-45 - HMSO 1946

The real heroes of football

2011-10-28T20:31:00.016+01:00

As we have already discussed the nation's summer sport in an earlier post, it only seems fair to take a look at the winter game and how it fared during the dark days of the Second World War.

Firstly, it should be remembered that in many ways, football was a completely different game to the sport we know today. In the 1940s, it was truly the working mans' game and the players and spectators had far more in common with each other in those days than is the case today. For example, it is hard to imagine today's pampered Premiership stars travelling to the game by public transport; indeed, it is highly probable that most of them would get lost inside a tube station and would have no idea as to how to go about catching a bus!

Another thing that is hard to imagine is any of the players of today, giving up the game "for the duration" and donning the uniform of one of the fighting services, not for a cushy job on the sidelines but actually putting their lives on the line. Perhaps this writer is too much of a cynic but cannot help thinking that the agents who represent these players would be furiously trying to extricate their clients from any sort of involvement. We can only hope that such a situation never arises.

Upon the outbreak of war on 3rd September 1939, the 1939/40 football season was just three matches old and on the Saturday before the fateful Sunday which heard Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain broadcast to the nation that "consequently, this country is at war with Germany", the matches seem to have been played in a curiously subdued atmosphere. Indeed, across the country, attendances for these matches were greatly reduced. For example at The Valley, home of Charlton Athletic, which only a year previously had seen a crowd of 75,031 for a cup match against Aston Villa and where the average for the previous season had been over 25,000, a mere 8,608 had bothered to turn up to watch The Addicks play Manchester United. It seemed that minds were already drifting towards the inevitability of war.

On the outbreak of war, the Government immediately banned any form of public assembly, which meant that all forms of public entertainment ceased forthwith. The reasoning behind this was to avoid mass casualties in the air raids which were expected to begin the moment that war was declared. Fortunately, the raids and mass destruction did not materialise and the Government's somewhat panicky restrictions, which had also seen the closure of all theatres and cinemas, as well as sporting venues, were soon eased. Although the Football League programme had been abandoned, it was decided to commence a greatly reduced and regionalised league programme, so as to avoid causing problems for Britain's public transport system, which was also very much on a wartime footing. As it was, football matches had to cease immediately upon the sounding of the Air Raid Alert and our photograph shows a spotter posted at The Valley, home of Charlton Athletic, keeping a sharp look out for enemy raiders.

When football did resume, attendances were greatly reduced; after all the vast majority of football supporters were disappearing into the armed forces and those that did remain were too heavily involved with their wartime jobs to be able to spare the time to travel to away matches in any case. Despite this, it was recognised that football, along with other forms of entertainment, needed to continue in order to provide some form of diversion from the war. Once it was decided to resume playing, the problem for the clubs was one of raising teams.

With the termination of the league season in September 1939, players had been released from their contracts in order to make themselves available for war service and each club made different arrangements for their players. For example, in 1938 at the time of the Munich Crisis, West Ham's players were encouraged to join either the Territorial Army or the Reserve Police, whilst Arsenal's squad nearly all became ARP Wardens. Brentford, at that time a top division club, saw their players become War Reserve Policemen, whilst Liverpool's entire first team squad joined the Territorial Army. It was suggested in some quarters that this mass joining up at these and other clubs was a cynical ploy by club chairman in order to keep their playing squads together. Whilst there may have been some truth in this viewpoint, it quickly backfired when the league season was abandoned and the players had nowhere to play!

When the new regionalised league began in late October 1939, many of these players had already been called up with their new units and in many cases were posted far and wide across the country. With the cancellation of contracts, players were able to guest for clubs in the areas to which they found themselves posted. So it was that Charlton players such as Sam Bartram and 'Sailor' Brown guested for Southeast London arch-rivals Millwall, Stanley Matthews played for Crewe and Sunderland's Raich Carter regularly turned out for Derby County. If you were a supporter, you never quite knew who was going to turn out and if you could play a bit yourself, it was worth taking your boots as there was always a chance that you could end up getting a game yourself!

Just as the players themselves took up war work, many of the stadiums they had previously graced went onto a war footing, with some being immediately requisitioned for wartime purposes. For example, Arsenal's Highbury Stadium became an ARP Wardens' Post and Public Air Raid Shelter, with the adjacent training ground being taken over by the RAF for a barrage balloon unit. Supporters found themselves having to watch their beloved Gunners playing at the White Hart Lane home of their great rivals Tottenham - something that would be unthinkable today. Not surprisingly, Arsenal's ARP Wardens team, which boasted players such as England's Cliff Bastin, who was excused military service due to poor hearing, were usually the winners in matches against local rival ARP Wardens teams!

White Hart Lane, although it remained open for football, was also turned over to war work with part of the ground becoming a gas mask factory, whilst another part of the ground was set aside as a mortuary for air raid victims. Outside London, Preston's Deepdale ground became a Prisoner of War camp, as was part of Doncaster Rovers' ground at Belle Vue.

As well as being lost for war work, many grounds were damaged by bombing. In London, Arsenal's Highbury would have been rendered unusable for football even if they had been able to remain there. In October 1940, the famous old ground was damaged by incendiary bombs which destroyed the roof of the North Bank and in April 1941, a High Explosive bomb hit the training ground, killing two RAF men from the Barrage Balloon unit there and destroying a large part of the North Bank terracing. Millwall's Den ground was badly damaged, and elsewhere in London, Stamford Bridge, The Valley, Upton Park and Brentford's Griffin Park all suffered varying degrees of damage. When peace finally returned in 1945, many clubs found themselves returning to grounds that were in an extremely dilapidated state.

Grounds could always be repaired, so more importantly, let us look at what happened to those players who found themselves in the front line and in many cases made the supreme sacrifice. Raich Carter, who was mentioned earlier, was in the Fire Service and regularly put his life on the line during the Blitz on Sunderland. Two Queens Park Rangers players found themselves in German POW camps; Johnny Barr was captured in North Africa and found himself working in a German cement factory, whilst goalkeeper Reg Allen was captured in North Africa in 1942 whilst serving as a commando and after an unsuccessful escape spent the remainder of the war in an Austrian POW Camp. Charlton's Arthur Turner was the only survivor when his Coastal Command aircraft came down in the Bay of Biscay and he spent several hours in the sea prior to being picked up. Crystal Palace's Howard Girling recovered from wounds received in Germany whilst serving with the Army to play 27 times for Palace before being transferred to Brentford in 1947.

Bolton Wanderers' entire squad had joined the 53rd Field Regiment of the Royal Artillery and served at El Alamein and later in Italy, where their famous pre-war captain, Harry Goslin was killed in action. Goslin was only one of many well known players who made the ultimate sacrifice and whilst only a few can be mentioned here, all of those players who laid down their lives are remembered with honour.

Jackie Pritchard had been a promising goalkeeper with Cardiff City who was serving with the 77th Heavy Anti Aircraft Artillery and had been onboard a troopship heading for the Middle East when the Japanese invaded Malaya. His part of the convoy was diverted to Singapore and arrived two weeks before the colony surrendered in Britain's greatest military defeat of all time. Pritchard found himself as a POW in appalling conditions, as were all of those taken by the Japanese who showed a callous disregard for human life. He was then used as a slave labourer building airfields and was being moved on an unmarked ship when it was torpedoed by an American submarine north of Bali. Pritchard and his fellow prisoners had been worked almost to the point of death and in the eyes of their captors were expendable. Hundreds of these men were in the water but all hopes of rescue were dashed when the commander of a Japanese minesweeper, having picked up the Japanese survivors, then machine gunned the Allied survivors whilst they were floundering in the water. Jackie Pritchard had been the victim of a war crime.

Arsenal FC were worst affected by the war, losing no fewer than 11 players during the conflict; Cyril Tooze was killed by a sniper in Italy in 1944, Sid Pugh was killed in 1944 whilst serving with the RAF and Bill Dean, who admittedly had only appeared once for the club, was drowned when the cruiser HMS Naiad was torpedoed in the Mediterranean. Bobby Daniel was killed on Christmas Eve 1943 whilst serving with RAF Bomber Command on a raid to Prague and William Parr was also serving with the RAF, this time with Coastal Command, when he was shot down in 1942. Leslie Lack was also with the RAF, this time as a Spitfire pilot with 118 Squadron and lost his life over Holland in 1943. Hugh Glass, Albert Woolcock, Harry Cook, Herbie Roberts and Jack Lambert completed this sad list but nearly every club was affected in some way or another. As well as players, some clubs lost long serving officials; Lieutenant Colonel John Murray "Ivan" Cobbold, chairman of Ipswich Town, died whilst serving with the Welsh Guards. He died not on a foreign battlefield but whilst attending a church service in the Guards Chapel in Birdcage Walk, London, which was struck by a V-1 flying bomb on 18th June 1944. He was one of 122 fatalities in what was to prove the worst single V-1 incident of the war.

Overall, nearly 100 professional footballers lost their lives during the Second World War. Football was just one of the many aspects of British life that had been changed forever by the devastating experiences of wartime and we must sincerely hope that we never again have to see our sporting heroes donning their wartime uniforms.

Published Sources:

Gas Masks for Goal Posts - Anton Rippon, Sutton Publishing 2005
Home & Away with Charlton Athletic - Colin Cameron, Privately Published 1992
London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
Soccer at War - Jack Rollin, Willow Books 1985

Some sad news..........

2011-10-20T20:11:00.002+01:00

My fellow Blitzwalker and business partner Neil Bright has written with the following sad news:

"It is my sad duty to report the passing of my good friend, Andy Pepper. Andy was very helpful in the researching of my walks and book. He was a keen student of both military and local history and had also been the editor of the Metropolitan Police Military History Society's magazine.

My deepest sympathy goes to Ruth and his family."

I am certain that we would all echo Neil's sentiments and express our sincere condolences to Andy's family at this sad time.

A nation of organisers

2011-10-15T18:20:00.015+01:00

It is an often quoted 'fact' that Britain was totally unprepared for war with Germany in 1939. As is often the case with many 'facts' this is not strictly accurate, although this has not stopped it being wheeled out many times over the past sixty six years since the end of the war.

To this writer at least, the inference of this total unpreparedness would have meant that those in power were completely unaware of even the slightest chance of war occurring, which surely even the most die-hard appeasers in the government must have admitted as being a distinct possibility.

The truth is that Britain had begun a tentative programme of re-armament in 1936 when the then Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin appointed Sir Thomas Inskip as Minister for Co-ordination of Defence. This programme was begun in the nick of time, because projects such as designing and building new warships and aircraft inevitably take time - for example, HMS King George V , nameship of a new class of battleship which was laid down in 1937, did not commission into the Royal Navy until December 194o, over a year into the war. Another aspect of Britain's re-armament was the re-organisation and doubling in size of the Territorial Army to some 440,000 men, on top of a regular Army strength of 224,000 plus 170,000 reservists - i.e. recently retired regulars who were now in civilian life. Of course, the speed of this re-armament was not to everyone's liking, notably Winston Churchill, who had been earmarked for the job now held by Inskip but who had not been appointed for fear of sending the wrong message to foreign powers intent on war!

It was against this background that Britain began to lurch towards the invitability of war but in one aspect at least, Britain was more prepared than in many other areas and that was in the aspect of Civil Defence, or Air Raid Precautions, as it was known until 1941.

It was Stanley Baldwin himself who had famously said "The bomber will always get through" and perhaps it was because of this and against the background of the Spanish Civil War, that the Air Raid Precautions system or ARP was established in 1938. The whole Civil Defence network divided the country into twelve Civil Defence regions, each under the control of a Civil Regional Commissioner, reporting directly to the Ministry of Home Security. For the purposes of this exercise, we shall concentrate upon London, which was Region 5, with it's subterranean headquarters located beneath the junction of Exhibition Road and Cromwell Road adjacent to the Natural History Museum. This bunker was ready for occupation by June 1939 and was another sign of British preparedness for war.

The Commissioner for London was Admiral Sir Edward Evans - a post which he held for the duration of the war. Evans presided over a complex operation, for as Commissioner he was responsible not just for Air Raid Precautions but for a whole range of operations such as but not limited to shelters, wardens, bomb disposal, the fire services and fire guards, rescue squads, mortuaries, salvage and much more as shown on the accompanying chart, which incidentally is set for the old Metropolitan Borough of Greenwich. London itself was sub-divided into thirteen groups; Groups 1 - 4 covered the inner London boroughs, whilst Groups 6A to 9B comprising a further eight groups covered the outer London and suburban Kent, Essex, Surrey and Middlesex boroughs as also shown on an accompanying chart. The level of organisation was truly staggering and nothing was left to chance.

Of course, mistakes were made and for example, the initial decision not to allow the London tube stations to be used as air raid shelters for fear of fostering a trogladyte mentality amongst the civil population, can only be described as a mistake. However, mistakes were recognised and lessons were quickly learned; in the case of the tube stations a mixture of bowing to public pressure and simple common sense soon ensured that 79 stations were quickly and brilliantly adapted into effective deep-level shelters. Sometimes the mistakes were simple over estimations as to what would ensue from the onset of German bombing. For example, the government had factored casualty figures based on experiences from Zeppelin raids on London during the Great War and also from the experiences of the Spanish Civil War. So it was that the government had ordered a million coffins to deal with the expected casualties. It had been forecast by the Air Ministry that there would be 65,000 civilian casualties per week and a million casualties in the first month of any sustained bombing campaign. In the event, during the whole of the war the total number of civilian war deaths caused by enemy air attack numbered some 60,000 with approximately half of this number in London; bad enough but nowhere near as doom laden as had been predicted. To this day, the evidence of this over estimation of casualty figures can be seen in London, albeit in dwindling number; so many steel and mesh ARP stretchers had been ordered that hundreds of thousands of these were left unused at the war's end. They were to find use as replacement fences around the council estates that were built to replace the Blitz ravaged housing in many parts of London and the photograph shows an example still extant in Watergate Street, Deptford.

Of course, within all of this organisation, there were plenty of occasions when improvisation was the name of the game but for a period in our history when we were supposed to be masters of muddling through, in reality was a masterpiece of organisation.

For further background reading on the London Civil Defence Headquarters bunker, please follow the link to the excellent Subterranea Britannica website http://subbrit.org.uk/sb-sites/sites/l/london_war_room/index.shtml

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1974
London at War - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
Westminster at War - William Sansom, Faber & Faber 1947

A P Herbert, the Water Gipsy and the Royal Naval Auxiliary Patrol

2011-10-01T18:51:00.008+01:00

Sir Alan Herbert, better known as A P Herbert or sometimes just "APH" would today be known as a 'maverick' - born in Ashtead, Surrey in 1890, he was also a man of many parts; he was a humorist, novelist, playwright, law reform activist and for fifteen years an Independent Member of Parliament for the Oxford University constituency as well as serving in the Royal Navy during two World Wars.

He was no stranger to war, his Royal Navy service during the Great War saw him earn a Mention in Dispatches at Gallipoli and despite becoming an M P in 1935, he had no hesitation in offering his services to the Navy once again upon the outbreak of war in 1939. Perhaps uniquely for a Member of Parliament, his service in the Royal Navy was not as an officer - he served as Petty Officer A P Herbert throughout the Second World War. He also tragically lost two younger brothers, one in each war, in 1914 and 1941.

Herbert loved the River Thames, lived alongside it at Hammersmith and was a member of the Thames Conservancy Board as well as being a Freeman of the Company of Watermen and Lightermen, so it was no real surprise when Herbert became a part of the newly formed Royal Naval Auxiliary Patrol in 1939.

Despite being the largest in the World in 1939, the Royal Navy had been rarely seen in the Thames during peacetime; the Dockyards at Deptford and Woolwich had been closed during Victorian times and apart from a small victualling yard that remained in Deptford, that produced amongst other things, the infamous ships' biscuits, the Navy was surprisingly absent from the capital's tideway.

All this was to change in 1939; naval control of shipping and the convoy system meant that the Navy would need to maintain a considerable profile on the Thames and they set themselves up alongside the Port of London Authority within their prestigious offices at Tower Hill. With a nod towards their location, the Navy, never without a sense of humour named this 'Stone Frigate' HMS Yeoman. Apart from the organisation of convoys, another important aspect of the Navy's work was the Minesweeping Service and it was in the Thames Estuary that Lieutenant Commanders J D G Ouvry and R C Lewis of HMS Vernon, the Navy's school of mines and torpedoes, each earned a deserved George Cross for defusing the first magnetic mine, and thus discovering it's secrets when these weapons had come close to paralysing shipping movements into and out of the Port of London. Because of their work an effective countermeasure, in the form of degaussing - in other words, reducing the magnetic signatures of ships - was quickly introduced.

However, perhaps the most famous section of the Royal Navy on London River, was certainly the one with the highest profile and one which saw the White Ensign flying proudly along the length of the River Thames, was the Royal Naval Auxiliary Patrol, a kind of naval version of the Home Guard which saw gentlemen of a certain age mixing with younger recruits aboard requisitioned patrol boats performing a variety of tasks. At first glance, it perhaps may have looked like a waterbourne 'Dad's Army' pottering about on the river but in reality they performed many vital duties and were often in harm's way. Amongst other things, the small patrol boats towed barges out of danger during the Blitz and provided invaluable assistance to the Fire Brigade and ARP services with their fire watching duties. They also provided some sixty mine watching barges along the river which provided important information in spotting the location of mines which had been dropped into the Thames, sometimes as far upstream as Hammersmith. There were also many downed airmen, both British and German who had reason to be grateful to the RNAP who were rescued by them having parachuted into the river from their shot-down aircraft. One of the more mundane duties, although no less important, was the delivery and collection service from merchant vessels entering or leaving the Port of London.

It was natural that A P Herbert should join the RNAP, as it was the type of organisation that might have been created for him. His own motor launch, the Water Gipsy, named after one of his earlier novels became HMS Water Gipsy and was arguably the heaviest armed vessel of her size in the Navy, having been armed with several additional machine guns 'acquired' by Herbert through his various contacts. She once opened fire on German bombers directly over the Palace of Westminster and Herbert later claimed that this was the only occasion that one of HM Ships had opened fire in direct defence of the 'Mother of Parliaments.'

Despite suffering numerous casualties in both men and vessels, including an occasion when their base at Tower Pier received a direct hit from a high explosive bomb in 1940, at the end of the War, these brave men were denied the 1939-45 Star because it was deemed by the Admiralty that they had only operated in "sheltered waters." Sir Alan Herbert, as he had become in 1945 in Churchill's resignation Honours List, took up the battle in Parliament.

"From whom were these vessels sheltered?" he demanded to know. "They were not sheltered against bombs above or mines below and during the material times, these vessels were patrolling night and day, ready to repel invasion. So that what they were sheltered against, we do not know."

Despite this impeccable argument, this was a battle that Sir Alan was destined not to win, as the Admiralty remain unmoved and the medals remained unawarded.

Despite this, perhaps Herbert did manage to have the last laugh against Their Lordships, when with the war safely over, all members of the service were obliged to complete a questionnaire regarding their pre-war employment. In answer to the first question which was "How were you employed before the war?" he answered succinctly "Gainfully." And to a question about the character of his work, he replied "Good!"

If ever a man had the Thames in his blood, it was A P Herbert. After the war, he remained as Independent Member of Parliament for Oxford University until the seat was abolished in 1950 and continued writing, both novels and humorous works for publications such as Punch as well as his autobiography entitled simply "APH: His Life and Times" which appeared in 1970, one year before his death, which occurred on 11th November 1971.

Published Sources:

London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
London's Docks - John Pudney, Thames & Hudson 1975
The Thames on Fire - L M Bates, Terence Dalton 1985
The People's War - Angus Calder, Jonathan Cape 1969

It's That Man Again

2011-09-16T21:24:00.006+01:00

Although the BBC had begun embryonic television broadcasts from Alexandra Palace in 1936, these transmissions were received by only the relative handful of people who could afford a television set. However, on the outbreak of war in September 1939, the BBC's television broadcasts ceased 'for the duration' and for the time being at least, this new medium was consigned to the back burner.

However, BBC Radio had been broadcasting since 1922 and although like television, the initial audiences had been small, they had been steadily growing until by 1939, the vast majority of the British public were avid listeners to some degree or another. On the outbreak of war, all public places of entertainment were closed and although this short sighted piece of government legislation was soon reversed, even upon the re-opening of the theatres and cinemas, not everyone was able to regularly visit them, especially those who lived away from the larger towns and cities.

One aspect of the BBC's radio broadcasts that quickly became invaluable to the populace were the regular news bulletins. These broadcasts, although within the restraints of wartime censorship, were widely felt to be as unbiased as the circumstances allowed and the British public (as well as the many listening illegally in occupied Europe) soon appreciated that they were being told the news pretty much the way it was, which was far from the case in Nazi Germany.

Soon BBC correspondents like Frank Gillard, Wynford Vaughan-Thomas and Richard Dimbleby became household names for their unbiased reporting and bravery in broadcasting from the thick of the action and like their American counterpart Edward R Murrow, reported from Lancaster bombers over Berlin on more than one occasion. The broadcast that Dimbleby made from Belsen Concentration Camp towards the end of the war in Europe was a memorable if chilling piece of war reportage that brought home to the British public just what atrocities the Nazis had been capable of.

There was much more to the BBC than news broadcasts and the entertainment of the listening public was always a major part of the BBC's wartime agenda. Shows such as Desert Island Discs (yes, it was running in 1942), Workers' Playtime and Childrens' Hour were all popular shows. By far the most popular was ITMA, which was an abbreviation for It's That Man Again. This had been a popular newspaper headline in pre war stories about Adolf Hitler and was now transferred to refer to the man around whom the show was written, Tommy Handley (pictured above.)

Written by Ted Kavanagh, ITMA was first broadcast in July 1939 and quickly settled down into a fast paced, sometimes surreal show which was very popular with the listening public. The show was an ensemble piece and apart from Handley, the show starred Jack Train, a brilliant 'voice man' whose creation of Colonel Chinstrap was based on a buffoonish retired Indian Army officer to whom he had been introduced by BBC announcer John Snagge shortly before the show was first broadcast. The real life colonel had remarked proudly to Snagge that "I have purchased a new water heater on ten years hire purchase but what the gas company doesn't know is that I am drinking myself to death!" Train quickly recognised that he could base his new character firmly around the Indian Army man and soon his line "I don't mind if I do" in answer to any question became one of the many oft-repeated catchphrases from the show to pass into general usage by the public at large. Some nine years later, Jack Train received a telegram from Snagge which read "THE COLONEL BEAT THE GAS COMPANY BY SEVEN MONTHS."

Other stars of the show who would become well known after the war were Deryck Guyler, Joan Harben, who played a character called Mona Lott and Hattie Jacques, whose character Sophie Tuckshop was the first of many played by Hattie that was directly related to her real life physical size.

The show soon assumed cult status and was widely attributed as being a great morale booster on the Home Front and ran throughout the war. In fact the show ran for over three hundred editions until 1949 and only stopped because of the untimely death of Tommy Handley shortly after recording what proved to be his last show. The series was immediately cancelled as it was rightly felt that Handley was irreplaceable.

The show's influence was not lost - amongst the many disciples that the show had gathered over the years, were four young men - Michael Bentine, Spike Milligan, Harry Secombe and Peter Sellers - who of course were later to star in a radio comedy just as popular and even more surreal than ITMA - The Goon Show.

Television was to resume in 1946 and although radio was to remain in the ascendency for most of the 1950s, television was to gradually take over as the new mass media.

Two Way Traffic

2011-09-09T19:56:00.008+01:00

Although Saturday September 7th 1940 marked the beginning of the Night Blitz on London and was the start of 57 consecutive nights when the capital received the attention of the Luftwaffe, this first raid actually began at about 4.30 on this sunny late summer afternoon and marked the first and last time that the German air force attempted a large scale mass attack on London in daylight. Although they did attempt daylight raids subsequently, notably on September 15th, the losses they suffered at the hands of RAF Fighter Command were too heavy and the strategy soon settled down to one of night bombing. At night, although the British radar still picked up the approaching raiders, the RAF at this stage of the war, lacked an effective night fighter and it was not until the entry into service of the Bristol Beaufighter in early 1941, coupled with Airborne Intercept radar sets that the Luftwaffe began to find the night skies over the British Isles seriously contested for the first time.

What is perhaps less widely known, is that the start of the heavy raids on London was brought about by a series of navigational errors, subsequent escalations and 'tit for tat' retaliatory raids. This escalation began on the night of August 24th 1940 when part of a force of 170 German bombers tasked with bombing the Thameshaven oil refineries in the Thames Estuary and also the town of Rochester in Kent, became disoriented and thinking that they were jettisoning their bomb load over open countryside in Hertfordshire, actually dropped their deadly cargo over the London Wall area of the City of London as well as Islington, Finsbury, Millwall, Stepney, East Ham, Leyton and Bethnal Green, in a grim foretaste of much worse to come.

As a result of this raid, the following night saw a curious two way traffic develop over the North Sea, for while the Luftwaffe reverted to attacking their then normal targets of RAF airfields, Channel convoys and sporadic attacks on towns along the south coast, some 81 Hampden and Wellington bombers of RAF Bomber Command were heading in the opposite direction, for Churchill had ordered a raid against Berlin in retaliation for the previous night's attack on London. Although this and a subsequent larger raid on September 23rd were ineffectual in terms of actual damage done, they were to have far reaching effects on future German strategy. Ironically, the switching of the Luftwaffe's attacks from the RAF's airfields to London and other major British cities, took the pressure off Fighter Command and allowed them to concentrate on attacking the intruders in daylight without having to continually worry about attacks on their own airfields, thus ensuring continued British air superiority and the ultimate defeat of the Luftwaffe.

The RAF's raids on Berlin caused outrage amongst the German leadership. After all, Hermann Goering had boasted that no enemy aircraft would ever fly over Reich Territory; Hitler flew into a rage and insisted that in retaliation for the bombing of Berlin (which itself was a reprisal raid), then London would be erased from the map.

This threat, like so many of Hitler's others, soon proved to be empty. Although the damage to British cities was grievous and the casualties heavy, the British people were not easily cowed. Also, unlike previous targets of the Luftwaffe such as Warsaw and Rotterdam, the defending air force had not been destroyed on the ground; the RAF was tenacious, well led, well organised and manned by men of the highest calibre. They also had the edge with technology, both in terms of radar and it's utilisation and also with the fighting hardware. Although the Spitfire was closely matched to the German Bf109, the British defenders had the great advantage of fighting over home territory; if a British pilot was shot down and survived, he was landing in a friendly area. If a German pilot was shot down over Britain, whatever his fate, he would take no further part in the war - it was to put it brutally, a case of death or captivity.

This was a lesson that the RAF was to learn later in 1941 and 1942, when they went on the offensive. The tactic was known as 'leaning towards the enemy' but Fighter Command was to lose many of the 'aces' of the Battle of Britain, such as Douglas Bader and Bob Stanford-Tuck, who were shot down over enemy occupied France whilst taking part in 'Rhubarbs' as these massive fighter sweeps were known. These men and many others were to spend the rest of the war in captivity and it was only the superior numbers of the British and the newly arrived Americans, together with the continual dilution of the Luftwaffe's resources in the Russian campaign that ensured that the Allies would continue to enjoy air superiority and eventual air supremacy by the time of the invasion of Europe in June of 1944.

By this time, RAF Bomber Command had grown in strength hugely from the early raids of August and September 1940. Berlin, far from being the distant object of raids by medium bombers such as the Wellington, Hampden and Whitley, had become 'The Big City' attracting the nightly attention of the RAF's Lancasters and Halifaxes and although it was a battle of attrition, it was a battle that the Germans could never win. One by one, every major city in Germany was reduced systematically to ruins. As well as Berlin, cities such as Cologne, Essen, Hannover, Kassel and worst of all, Hamburg and Dresden 'reaped the whirlwind' sewn by the Luftwaffe in the early days of the war.

The tentative two way traffic across the North Sea had by the spring of 1944, become for the Germans a very monotonous one way affair and it was only the coming of peace in May 1945 that saw the ruined cities of Europe gain much needed respite and eventual rebuilding both of ruined buildings and lives.

As a footnote to this article, many of the ruined cities in West Germany as the free half of this divided country had become post war, were rebuilt far more quickly and thoroughly than London and many other British cities. Perhaps this was one advantage of starting with a blank canvas; for the destruction had been more total in Germany than almost anywhere else. Bomb sites could still be found in London well into the 1970s and generally speaking it seemed to take London a long time to recover completly from the scars of wartime. Conversely, a visit to Communist East Berlin in the mid 1980s by this writer, discovered a drab city with many still wrecked buildings extant and with vast areas of central Berlin still laid waste. The fall of East Germany in 1990 presented this now re-unified city as a property developer's paradise and the centre of Berlin is unrecognisable from those dark days of communist control.

All this is incidental and we would do well to remember the reasons behind the bomb sites. Never forget, never again.

Published Sources:

Bomber Boys, Patrick Bishop - Harper Press 2007
Bomber Command 1939-45, Richard Overy - Harper Collins 1997
The Narrow Margin, Derek Wood with Derek Dempster - Arrow Books 1969

Looting is nothing new

2011-08-19T20:03:00.007+01:00

Pretty well everybody in the United Kingdom and many people around the World will have witnessed the awful scenes of riot and looting last week in our cities last week and felt rightly angered at those who perpetrated these crimes.

In the aftermath, there is now a public debate as to whether the sentences being handed out are too harsh, too light or whether public boiling should be re-introduced!

These arguments are brought into perspective when we journey back in time to the Second World War and consider Emergency Powers (Defence) Act of 1939, which was brought in to regulate almost every aspect of home life in this country. Under this legislation, the death penalty was readily available in punishment of the offence of looting. Looters could, in fact, have been shot on sight, although there are no recorded instances of this ever happening, or indeed of the death penalty being imposed for this crime.

Theft of any sort is a pretty despicable sort of crime and looting, especially in wartime of properties damaged and laid open by bombing was just about the lowest of the low. The photograph shows a bomb damaged house in Greenwich, southeast London with the pathetic remnants of the owner's property laid outside the ruined home. In the upstairs window is the ominous warning that looters face death.

Despite this warning, looting still occurred; at the scene of the wrecked Cafe de Paris in Coventry Street, looters prowled the floor of the destroyed nightclub, tearing open handbags and removing rings from the hands of the dead and dying. Looting reached epidemic proportions during the Blitz and the Metropolitan Police, already hard pressed, had to set up a special squad to deal with the problem. Much of the looting was organised by gangs, who would send out spotters during a raid to highlight 'promising' incidents, report these to their bosses, who would send out teams of looters to the spot before the emergency services could reach the scene. More often than not though, the looting was a casual affair, with young boys being particulary susceptible to the temptation of stealing from bombed houses. Philip Ziegler, in his excellent book "London at War" reported that four boys, aged ten and eleven were sentenced to be birched for stealing from a bombed house in the capital.

Sadly, some of the looters were people who should have known better; the rescue and demolition squads seemed to have more than their fair share of thieves amongst them. Perhaps the temptation of seeing trinket boxes and other valuable items such as gas and electricity meters laying amongst the ruins was too much for some of them. Nearly half of the arrests made by the Metropolitan Police for the offence of looting came from members of the Civil Defence services. Then as now, there were calls for harsher sentences to be served on offenders. Six month sentences were commonplace in 1940 but by the time the Blitz ended in May of 1941, sentences of five years imprisonment were becoming commonplace. Sometimes the police took matters into their own hands and handed out beatings to those that they caught red handed.

The end of the Blitz not only gave Londoners a respite from bombing but also from the epidemic of theft that had been seemingly unstoppable. The Little Blitz and Terror Weapons of 1944/45 started it all again but on a much higher scale. By this time, four years plus of war had left serious shortages of pretty well all day to day items. In early 1944 for example, a radio and electrical shop in West Hampstead had it's entire stock looted within twenty minutes of it's being bombed and once again the courts were handing out exemplary sentences of five years or longer but still nobody was ever hanged for the offence. Perhaps even the authorities realised that although looting, stealing from the dead was a despicable crime, they understood that Londoners had had a hard time of it and apart from the organised gangs, most of this theft was by opportunists.

Whatever the reason, nobody was ever hanged for looting and even the harsher sentences didn't seem to stem the tide of theft.

Perhaps we would do well to remember today that sadly looting is nothing new; the threat of harsher sentences did not always act as a deterrent, although it did remove the perpetrators from circulation for the period of the sentence. Seventy years ago a five year sentence meant exactly what it said and prison conditions were considerably harsher than those of today. In 1945, the answer was peace and the gradual return to normality and the respect of other people, their property and the rule of law and order.

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall, Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1974
London at War 1939-45, Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995

Sidney Alfred Holder, The Wall and the Unknown Soldier

2011-08-12T21:08:00.008+01:00

Earlier this week, this writer was lucky enough to be invited to the unveiling ceremony of the latest memorial plaque to be erected by the charity 'Firemen Remembered' which does so much excellent work in preserving and honouring the memory of the firefighters of the Second World War, those 'Heroes with Grimy Faces' as they were memorably described by Winston Churchill.

This particular plaque is located at Shoe Lane, London EC4 and honours an incident that was immortalised on canvas by the artist Leonard Rosoman R.A., a firefighter in the Auxilary Fire Service who witnessed the event at first hand and although traumatised by what he had seen, created a powerful image, which Rosoman himself at first thought was too raw for public consumption, showing as it did, the imminent deaths of two firefighters and colleagues but which is today recognised as one of the iconic pieces of the war artists' work that it truly is. The image entitled 'A House Collapsing on two Firemen, Shoe Lane, London EC4' is reproduced below, courtesy of the Imperial War Museum, which is today the home of the original painting.

This incident occurred during the great fire raid on the City of London on the night of 29th/30th December 1940, which is sometimes known as The Second Great Fire of London, such was the intensity of the fires started by the German incendiaries and the vast swathes of the Square Mile that were laid waste.

As part of the ceremony, the redoubtable Stephanie Maltman, one of the leading figures behind the charity, explained what to the best of our knowledge today, had happened on this night in Shoe Lane and how Auxiliary Fireman Sidney Alfred Holder and a now unknown helper who had simply been passing by had come to perish beneath fifteen feet of white hot bricks and masonry.

Sidney Holder, Leonard Rosoman and the future writer and novelist William Sansom were part of an AFS squad detailed to fight a major fire in Shoe Lane, just off Fleet Street. Rosoman, Sansom and Holder were controlling a branch directing water onto the blazing building and although it looked a hopeless task, stuck bravely at their task. Amazingly, but not uncommonly during a major raid, there were still passers by going about their business and the firefighters were joined by an off duty soldier and an RAF aircraftsman, who offered to help. Again, this was not an uncommon occurence. During the course of their toils, a more senior AFS Officer appeared on the scene and instructed Rosoman to leave the branch to the others and accompany him on a recce from an adjacent building to see if they could find another spot from which to direct their branches at the by now out of control fire. As they surveyed the scene, Rosoman heard the ominous crack of the wall crumbling under the heat and collapsing onto the men below, one of whom was Rosoman's close friend, William Sansom.

Incredibly, Sansom and the Aircraftsman survived the incident by dint of good fortune; the wall had collapsed almost as a solid slab of masonry and they had the luck to be standing more or less on the spot where a window frame hit the ground and although showered with masonry, they were not seriously buried and were quickly able to free themselves and rushed to where Holder and the soldier had been directing their branch. The two men tore at the white hot bricks with their bare hands, severely burning themselves at the same time. They were quickly relieved by a Rescue Squad and it was only when they were taken aside, that Sansom and his colleague realised the extent of the injuries to their hands.

The rescuers eventually reached the two buried men; the soldier was dead when they found him. His steel helmet had been crushed almost flat. Although the details are sketchy, history tells us that Sidney Alfred Holder was alive when pulled from the rubble; the Commonwealth War Graves Commission tells us that he died 'near to St Bartholomew's Hospital' which suggests that he died in an ambulance on his way to that place.

Sidney Alfred Holder was 49 years old at the time of his death and came from Hendon in North London. Despite fairly extensive research by Stephanie and her colleagues at Firemen Remembered, the identity of the soldier who heroically offered to help on that fateful night has never been established and he remains 'known unto God' but to us mere mortals, one of the many 'unknown soldiers.'

It is thanks to the likes of Sidney Alfred Holder, his colleagues in the Fire Service and Civil Defence Services and the now anonymous helpers like the unknown soldier, that the London we know and love today still stands, with 'honourable scars' but unbowed by tyranny.

Published Sources:

Fireman Flower - William Sansom, Hogarth Press 1944
The London Blitz: A Fireman's Tale - Cyril Demarne OBE, After The Battle 1991

It wasn't just London

2011-08-07T19:15:00.003+01:00

Since this blog started some 18 months ago, we make no apologies for the majority of the writing being somewhat biased towards events in London. After all, the Blitzwalkers do concentrate on walks around various areas of our capital that were affected by the events of 70 years and longer ago. However, although London was the place that the Luftwaffe always returned to, we are the first to recognise that there were plenty of other places outside the capital that drew the attention of Hitler's finest.

Liverpool, Manchester, Belfast, Glasgow, Coventry, Portsmouth, Southampton, Belfast, Birmingham, Sheffield, Hull, Plymouth and Exeter amongst other places all suffered at the hands of the Luftwaffe and having just returned from a short holiday in Devon, it is this county upon which we shall concentrate today.

The county of Devon, with its rich agricultural traditions, at first choice seems an odd choice of target for Goering's bombers but with a little thought, the logic of this choice of target becomes apparent. The City of Plymouth is the home to Devonport Dockyard, the largest naval base in Western Europe and then as now, one of the homes of the Royal Navy. Hitler and his cronies were quick to recognise that if Devonport could be crippled, then the capabilities of the Royal Navy could be similarly hampered. The photograph shows the city centre the morning after a heavy raid in March 1941.

The first bombs fell on the city as early as 6th July 1940, when the suburb of Swilly was attacked with the death of three people. Much worse was to follow in early to mid 1941, when five heavy raids reduced large parts of the city to rubble. As elsewhere, the Plymouth Blitz brought tales of tragedy, heroism and defiance. Amongst the former, March 21st 1941 saw the Childrens' Ward at the City Hospital take a direct hit, when four nurses and nineteen children, the youngest barely a week old, were killed. Tragedy came again on 22nd April 1941, when a public air raid shelter located in Portland Square received a direct hit which resulted in the deaths of 72 shelterers. As always, the heroes were the firefighters, rescue workers and wardens, who toiled without a thought for their own safety. The defiance came in many simple ways; people continued to go to work, the Western Morning News, the local newspaper continued to appear every day despite the damage to their own offices and perhaps most poignantly of all was a wooden sign fixed over the door of the ruined parish church of St Andrew by a local headmistress, which read simply "Resurgam" which translated means "I shall rise again."

Neither was Plymouth the only part of Devon to be bombed; in 1940 and later during the so called Baedecker Raids of early to mid 1942 saw Exeter bombed with much of the historic City Centre being flattened. Newton Abbot railway station was bombed on 20th August 1940 when three enemy aircraft deliberately attacked the large railway station and yards resulting in the deaths of fourteen people and extensive damage and disruption to the main line to and from London.

Even seemingly sleepy backwaters such as the Regency seaside town of Sidmouth were not immune; in November 1941 a German bomber, probably on it's way back from a raid on Exeter shed it's load over the town, fortunately without loss of life but causing some material damage to properties and also causing the attention of a large number of curious locals who came to see the bomb craters the next day!

Devon, of course was the destination of large numbers of evacuees from the big cities, particulary from London. This writer knows of one friend who was evacuated from Greenford in Middlesex to Newton Abbot as a small boy. The reaction of his parents when they heard of the bombing of this part of Devon must have been one of extreme consternation, although for the most part, the evacuees sent to this part of the world must have found rural Devon a world apart from London and the other big cities.

Devon, in common with pretty well the whole of the south of England, was the home to many thousands of Allied servicemen in the build up to D-Day and many friendships were forged between American servicemen in particular and the local populace, whom they grew to like and to admire. In 1944, these servicemen were to leave for what General Eisenhower described as "The Great Crusade" to rid Europe and the World of Nazi tyranny. Many of these young men would never return, but they left behind a Devon, which like the remainder of the country, would never be quite the same again, so deep were the scars left behind.

Published Sources:

The Newton Abbot Blitz - AR Kingdom, Oxford Publishing Company 1979
Sidmouth, The War Years 1939-45 - John Ankins, privately published 2001
The Blitz of Plymouth - Arthur C Clamp - PDS Printers 1981

The Pen is Mightier........

2011-07-15T20:20:00.011+01:00

A blog of this nature, although we try to be comprehensive and accurate in the subjects covered, cannot compete with the depth of knowledge and sheer detail that goes into many of the books written on the Second World War.

Such books began to appear immediately the war was over and continue to be written to this day. As someone who guides Blitz-related walks around London and as a Blitz-related blogger and writer, I am often asked what books I would recommend to someone starting a wartime library or to someone who has even a passing interest in the subject. Both Neil and I are very careful to add a ‘Published Sources’ footnote to our blog and whilst our articles are by no means a ‘cut and paste’ job, we are always very aware of the work that goes into producing any piece of writing and are happy (and proud) to acknowledge our sources and inspirations.

Therefore, in answer to the oft asked question, here are my thoughts on the very best of Second World War writing. By its very nature, such a list is subjective and I would welcome the comments of our readers as to their favourites.

As can be imagined, many books were written once the Blitz was over and in the immediate aftermath. These books are still of tremendous value, although some of them are written in the style of their time which can sometimes be seen as politically incorrect and were also written at a time when some of the secrets of the war were still to be revealed.

Of books written whilst the war was still in progress, Front Line 1940-41, published by HMSO in 1942 is a remarkable pictorial study of the Blitz which was issued as a tribute to Britain’s Civil Defence services. Probably the best of the contemporary histories is Carry on London! written in 1941 by Ritchie Calder, who wrote for the now defunct newspaper The Daily Herald and later became Science Editor of the also long disappeared News Chronicle. He was also the father of the author and historian Angus Calder, of whom more later. As might be expected, it is written in a journalistic style and concentrates on the trials, tribulations and triumphs of the ordinary people.

Of the books written in the immediate aftermath of the war, easily the best written in my opinion is Westminster in War by William Sansom and published in 1947. During the war, Sansom was a full time London firefighter, serving initially in the Auxiliary Fire Service and later the National Fire Service, who had several close calls, especially on 29th December 1940, when he narrowly avoided being buried by falling masonry on the night the City of London was firebombed. Well qualified to write on his subject, Sansom became a full time novelist, short story and travel writer post-war and this book stands up well to this day.

Specific raids have also been well covered; The City That Wouldn’t Die by Richard Collier, published in 1959 concentrates on the last night of the Blitz – 10th/11th May 1941 – and is written in a compelling style as befits a journalist with the Daily Mail amongst other publications. Collier skilfully selects various participants, both on the British and German sides and follows their stories through this night of nights. Blitz, by M J Gaskin, is a much more recent addition to the ranks of the publications, not appearing until 2005 and covers the night of 29th December 1940, the great fire raid on the City of London and is written in a similar style to Collier’s book, concentrating on the stories of many of those involved during this raid, cleverly interweaving their stories. Margaret Gaskin wrote this book because she was initially puzzled why so much of the history of the City of London was seemingly punctuated by the recurring date of 29th December 1940 and simply wanted to get to the bottom of the story, which she has done supremely well.

Of general histories of the Blitz, there are several that stand out; Backs to the Wall by Leonard Mosley published in 1971 deals with the general subject pretty well and uses the by now tried and tested methods of concentrating on specific people who were involved and following their stories through the war. This is a fine book but suffers, in this writer’s opinion due to the author’s political viewpoint clouding his judgement occasionally. For example, he accuses Lord Alanbrooke, Chief of the Imperial General Staff, of being out of touch with the situation in London. This is patently incorrect; Alanbrooke was based in London throughout the war and although his job dictated periodic absences, he was well aware as to what was going on and suffered losses amongst his own friends and family during the war. Out of touch he wasn’t! London at War 1939-45 by Philip Ziegler and published in 1995 is a masterful study of life in London not only during the Blitz, but during the war in general and as such grasps the atmosphere of London during this period very well.

However, in this writer’s opinion the best of these ‘general’ histories is The Blitz by Constantine FitzGibbon, first published in 1957 and which remains a magisterial piece of work. FitzGibbon was a well known novelist and historian who had previously written an account of the attempt on Hitler’s life, so was well qualified to write this history. It is supremely well-written and contains some of the best personal accounts of various incidents, known and lesser known. The illustrations by Henry Moore also add a touch of class to this wonderful book.

Another general history, this time of the Battle of Britain, The Narrow Margin by Derek Wood with Derek Dempster and first published in 1961, remains a valuable chronicle of the Battle of Britain. The Battle is viewed on a day-by-day basis, detailing the actions, participants and captures well the cut and thrust of the battle for the survival of this island. The organisational detail of both RAF Fighter Command and the Luftwaffe, together with the stories of the personalities and equipment used makes this a fascinating publication. An updated and illustrated version of this book was released in 1990 which takes into account many of the 'Ultra' secrets which could not be mentioned when this book was first published.

Many social histories of the ‘Home Front’ have been written. In this writer’s opinion, Angus Calder, son of the aforementioned Ritchie is the writer of two of the best books on the subject, The People’s War published in 1969 and The Myth of the Blitz published in 1990. Don’t be put off by the title of this latter book; this is in no way a revisionist work and Angus Calder is not a debunker. As he explains in his own introduction, he doesn’t use the word ‘myth’ as if exposing lies, as does one particularly forgettable book on the subject (that Calder refers to but which I will not do the honour of advertising) but rather re-examines already known facts and looks at the whole event in a rational manner, whilst at the same time reminding us that the Blitz wasn’t just about cheeky, salt-of-the-earth cockneys taking Hitler’s worst on the chin (which they actually did surprisingly often) but was also about looting, road accidents, official incompetence and the general effect on the British people, as well as how this period is portrayed in films, for example. As for The Myth itself, as Calder himself points out, it still holds true as London did survive as did the majority of Londoners without becoming gibbering wrecks.

Many companies and organisations published war histories and some of these are surprisingly interesting and well-written, mainly because the bigger organisations were able to commission first rate authors to write these histories. War on the Line published in 1946 and written by Bernard Darwin is a history of the Southern Railway during the war and although the Southern covered a vast area of Southern England from Dover to Padstow, London features prominently within its pages and includes some fascinating personal accounts from railwaymen and women of the time. London Transport at War, originally published in 1946 as London Transport Carried On and written by Charles Graves covers the story of London’s buses, trams and tubes through the wartime years and again, contains some very good personal accounts as well as being very well illustrated. It slightly glosses over the initial difficulties caused by the tubes not being originally made available as shelters but since the book is an official history written just after the war, perhaps this can be forgiven.

There have been many biographies have been written about the personalities involved during the Blitz and the Battle of Britain. Vincent Orange has written two excellent biographies of the leading RAF protagonists of the Battle of Britain; Dowding of Fighter Command is an honest and well written account of the ‘Father of Fighter Command’ whilst the simply titled Park is a biography of Sir Keith Park, the head of 11 Group, Fighter Command during the Battle of Britain and the man who was aptly christened ‘The Defender of London’ by the Germans of all people. It tells the story well of the jealousies and in-fighting within the RAF that was to lead to the dismissal of this wonderful man shortly after the Battle's conclusion but who was later to mastermind similar victories in Malta and later in the Far Eastern theatre against the Japanese.

So many books have been written about Winston Churchill, it is impossible to mention them all here. In my opinion, the best of them for sheer depth of research is Martin Gilbert’s voluminous biography Winston S Churchill of which Volume Six: Finest Hour 1939-41 published in 1989 extensively covers the Blitz period. An altogether easier to handle work on the great man is Churchill by Roy Jenkins published in 2001. This book covers the whole of Churchill’s life but there is a lengthy chapter on his Premiership during the Second World War.

There is one other book which does not really fit any of the above categories, such as they are and which goes to prove that Blitz Walking is nothing new. This book is called simply The Lost Treasures of London and was written by William Kent in 1947 when the Blitz was still very fresh in people's minds. It is a wonderful little book which consists of a series of walks through London linking those buildings, the treasures of the title, which were destroyed during the Second World War. William Kent's narrative vividly describes what was lost and when this occurred. It is beautifully illustrated and gives a startling insight into the London that might still have been had it not been for the intervention of Hitler and his Luftwaffe.

As has been mentioned earlier, this selection of books is very subjective and is certainly not exhaustive; when one has a library of over 200 books on the subject of the Second World War, of which a large proportion cover the Battle of Britain and Blitz periods, it is difficult if not impossible to mention all of them, save for presenting them in an uninspiring list but hopefully the above will give a good idea as to what to look out for. Some of the older books are now quite rare but given a bit of detective work and trawling of the internet, it is usually still possible to pick up most, if not all of the books referred to without costing a King’s Ransom.

There are many, many other fine pieces of writing, both old and new on the subject which have not been mentioned here due to the constraints of space but as mentioned earlier, I'd love to know your favourites on the subject.

Books referred to above:

Front Line 1940-41 - HMSO 1942
Carry on London! - Ritchie Calder, The English Universities Press 1941
Westminster in War - William Sansom, Faber & Faber 1947
The City that Wouldn't Die - Richard Collier, Collins 1959
Blitz - MJ Gaskin, Faber & Faber 2005
Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1971
London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
The Blitz - Constantine FitzGibbon, Macdonald 1957
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood with Derek Dempster, Tri-Service Press 1990
The People's War - Angus Calder, Jonathan Cape 1969
The Myth of The Blitz - Angus Calder, Jonathan Cape 1991
War on The Line - Bernard Darwin, Southern Railway 1946
London Transport at War - Charles Graves, Almark Publishing 1974
Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange, Grub Street 2008
Park - Vincent Orange, Methuen 1984
Winston S Churchill, Volume 6 Finest Hour 1940-41 - Martin Gilbert, Heinemann 1989
Churchill - Roy Jenkins, Macmillan 2001
The Lost Treasures of London - William Kent, Phoenix House 1947

Dr Carrot, Potato Pete and Making do and Mending

2011-07-08T19:44:00.010+01:00

Today, in 2011 after 66 years of peacetime and with fewer and fewer survivors of the wartime years to tell us about it first-hand, it is easy for us to look back upon those times with a certain amount of bewilderment at the way things were done in wartime London and the manner in which Londoners conducted themselves and to make comparisons with today's capital city.

For example, with an almost complete lack of private motoring, the general public were far more reliant on public transport than today; bus services especially, were hard pressed and could be few and far between, even in central London. Despite all this, Londoners queued patiently for their bus and woe betide anyone who tried to barge their way to the front. Compare this behaviour with the rugby scrums that pass for bus queues today!

In 2011, recycling is back in fashion. Quite rightly, people are being urged to save their waste paper, glass, tin cans and all manner of other refuse for re-use. Despite post war complacency, when society became increasingly 'throw away' in it's outlook, we are becoming all too aware of the finite resources of our planet and the urgent need to recycle and re-use our precious raw materials. In 1941, this need to recycle and re-use was even more urgent but for somewhat different reasons. Then, as now, we were a nation dependent on international trade but in 1941 shipping shortages were becoming acute due to the German U-Boat menace; raw materials could not be relied upon to be imported in sufficient amounts for use other than in war production, so 'Make-do and Mend' became one of the catch phrases of the day. Waste of anything could not and would not be tolerated. Everything, but everything was re-used, whether it be waste paper, glass, timber, rags, metals and even waste food which was 'recycled' for use in feeding pigs. Today, the recycling message hasn't hit home with everyone yet, although things are improving. Once again, we have a long way to catch up with our counterparts of 70 years ago.

Which brings us to rationing. We will explore rationing, not just of food but of petrol, clothing and much else, in a future blog entry but rationing was brought in during wartime as a means for providing fairness in ensuring that what supplies were available could go around to all who needed them. The coupon system worked surprisingly well and although there were cheats who tried to buck the system, the vast majority of the populace saw the common sense and fairness of the system and patiently waited their turn in the queues for food. Some foodstuffs, like eggs, became incredibly rare whilst others, such as bananas and lemons became almost non-existent. What rationing did encourage however, was the need to become as self-sufficient in food as possible. Everyone with a garden or with access to an allotment grew vegetables. Every scrap of land was converted to food growing - even prestigious open spaces such as Hyde Park had large areas given over to food production and the upshot of this campaign to 'Dig for Victory' was that by the end of the war, this country had halved the figure of 55 million tons of food that had previously been imported annually prior to the outbreak of war.

As can be imagined, 70 years ago, there was nothing like the variety of foods available that we are accustomed to today. Foods were seasonal and people were encouraged to make the best of what was available. Lord Woolton was appointed the Minister of Food and in a series of brilliant campaigns, encouraged the British people to use what they had and even had a vegetable based pie named after him. Characters such as 'Potato Pete' and 'Dr Carrot' made frequent appearances in various advertising campaigns extolling the values of these and other vegetables, which could be grown cheaply and easily.

As mentioned previously, there was a 'Black Market' and certain goods could always be purchased 'under the counter' if one had sufficient money or knew someone 'in the know.' Even 70 years on, this writer finds it hard to hide his disdain for people who cheated the system and not only did this but were proud of it. When one thinks of the huge dangers that British and Allied merchant seamen faced in bringing their cargoes through U-Boat infested waters, it is doubly hard not to feel utter contempt for those who cheated the system. The novelist and former Royal Navy officer Nicholas Monsarrat perhaps described it best:

"Petrol-wanglers, like traitors, merit a special hell. Probably enough has been written about the hazards of bringing an oil tanker across the Atlantic, and the fate of the ones who don't make it, to establish the background and impress it on the dullest mind. None of it has been exaggerated: tankers are dynamite, and their crews are heroes of a special quality.

What then, is one to make of people who licence their private cars as taxis, in order to get extra petrol coupons; who obtain additional petrol to go to church on Sunday and then don't go: who drive hundreds of miles to a race meeting already served by special trains: who treat petrol as if could be got from a tap? What sort of men are they? Stupid? Incurably selfish? Traitorous? Do they feel clever when they've got their extra whack? Does it give them a sense of power to know that men, foolishly valorous, have fought and perished in hundreds, just to keep their cars ticking over sweetly? Once again, ten such men are not worth the skin of one of the man who dies for them."

Even 68 years after these words were written, it is hard to disagree with them, especially when one knows that the author saw the sacrifices made by the merchant seamen and their naval escorts first-hand.

Some readers of these writings over the past year or so might think that this writer harbours a secret desire to have lived in the London of 70 years ago. Perhaps surprisingly, this is not so; I am happy to live in the present day and enjoy our rebuilt, vibrant city and to enjoy a rationing free life but perhaps if we could adopt some of the values and courtesies of those Londoners of 70 years ago and combine them with the fruits of their victory that we enjoy today, then maybe London would be a more pleasant place in which to live.

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1971
East Coast Corvette - Nicholas Monsarrat, Cassell 1943
London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
London Transport at War - Charles Graves, Almark Publishing 1974

An Unlikely Hero

2011-07-03T17:42:00.010+01:00

As we have discovered already in previous entries to this blog, heroism and heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Just occasionally, somebody emerges that fits the image of the classic, square jawed 'Boys Own' hero but more often than not, heroes look just like ordinary people - for that is the what heroism essentially is all about - ordinary people performing extraordinary deeds.

Stanley Barlow (pictured above) was just such a man. In May 1941, he was a 35 year old newly qualified accountant who was Post Warden of Air Raid Warden's Post D2 in the Borough of St Marylebone in London. This post was located in the basement of the Royal Institute of British Architects' Building in Weymouth Street, just off Portland Place. Barlow had already demonstrated considerable moral courage, when he had taken on a Nigerian law student by the name of 'Sam' Ekpenyon at a time when the attitude of some Londoners towards black people were very different to the accepted norm of today. Sam was the son of a Nigerian chieftain whose story is one worth telling in it's own right and we shall hear more of him later.

To return to Stanley Barlow, it is fair to say that both amongst his subordinate wardens and in his working life, he was respected rather than liked and indeed, his wardens had nicknamed him 'The Fuhrer' behind his back. This would not particularly have bothered Barlow as he wanted results rather than popularity. What his wardens did not know and which possibly would have changed their attitude towards him, was that Barlow beneath his seemingly calm exterior, was a nervous wreck. He had supervised rescue work in New Cavendish Street on 'The Wednesday', April 16th 1941 and as a result of the grisly scenes he had encountered, even the banging of a shutter in the wind on an otherwise silent night had sent him rushing for cover and digging his fingernails into his palms to stop him from screaming out. Today, it is clear that Barlow was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress but in 1941, people were expected to pull themselves together and get on with it, which is just what he did.

In the early evening of 10th May 1941, Barlow was on duty and was engaged in checking the members of a new shift on duty; Sam Ekpenyon was one, Winnie Dorow, a young Jewish tailoress, Annie Hill, who worked at a clothes wholesaler, Charlie Lee, a mechanic, Joan Watson, a hairdresser and full time wardens Jim Grey and Eileen Sloane, as well as many others. The differing backgrounds and occupations of the wardens was reflected right across London and indeed the whole country. It was the task of people like Stanley Barlow to mould these diverse groups of people into effective teams.

When an air raid was not in progress or an alert hadn't been sounded, the wardens had to settle down and play the waiting game. Some would play darts and others card games but there were other mundane tasks to complete as well. For Barlow on this night, it meant checking one of the local shelters where some bunks had been damaged and also to check out a report by a local woman that her Austrian maid had been sending smoke signals to the Germans!

There was also the task of performing the nightly census; this basically meant checking the neighbourhood to see who was sleeping where and to know which properties were occupied in the event of a raid and whether the Rescue Squads would be required to attend in the event of a direct hit on a building in the area. Barlow himself led by example - even on a non-raid night, he would be out on his rounds on and off until dawn, He would check and double check each street, road and mews in his area and being an accountant, he would keep notes and knew exactly who was in which building; something which would stand him in good stead later that night.

Fate would decree that this night would not be a non-raid night; at 11 p.m., the sirens sounded the alert. A big raid was building and had been tracked for some time as the bomber force built up and crossed the Channel coast. The Knickebein guidance beams were fixed on London, so there was no doubt as to where the raid was heading. There was also a full moon - the so called 'Bomber's Moon', so as the sirens wailed most Londoners stoically headed for the shelters and braced themselves for another night in which they and their city would face the worst that Hitler could throw at them.

For Stanley Barlow and his wardens, along with countless other Civil Defence workers across London, taking shelter was not an option; in fact this was where all the training paid off and where all the hours of waiting for something to happen became worthwhile. At the sound of the sirens, Barlow hurried back to Wardens Post D2 and passed two of his wardens, Charlie Lee and Winnie Dorow leaving the Bay Moulton pub in Great Portland Street; he had promised to meet them for a quick one but had forgotten all about it. As he returned to the post, he called out to them that he would make good tomorrow.

In the meantime, the night of May 10th/11th 1941 was proving to be a big raid. The trend recently had been for the raids to get heavier and less localised and tonight was no exception. This raid was affecting the whole of London, already the docks had been hit yet again and the area around the Elephant & Castle was starting to be deluged with incendiary bombs, the intensity of which had never been seen before. It was soon to reach Wardens Post D2.

It was 12.25 a.m. on the morning of May 11th and despite the rumble of bombs and anti-aircraft gunfire towards the east, St Marylebone itself was still untroubled by bombs. Barlow had sent his wardens out on another patrol and Sam Ekpenyon was performing his usual 'lucky charm' act by looking in on shelterers in his area - some of them reckoned his dark skin lucky and wouldn't settle down for sleep until he had looked in on them. Barlow himself was about to set off on his own rounds to check on the Shelter Marshalls when at 12.36 the whole Wardens Post shook as if by an earthquake. Seconds later, Warden Johnnie Noble came sprinting into the Post to impart the terrible news that Great Titchfield Street, the Bay Moulton pub and the Rest Centre next door to it had been hit. Barlow ran to the scene to find it looking like a battlefield and thought of Wardens Lee and Dorow who he had last seen leaving the pub for the Rest Centre. Barlow felt that they must have had no chance so was pleasantly surprised to find Charlie Lee at a First Aid Post receiving treatment. His pleasure was short lived as he also spotted Winnie Dorow lying still in the street, almost as if sleeping. Barlow knew better and gently placed a blanket over her.

As he walked back to Post D2, Barlow began to experience his old fears - would his nerves allow him to get through the night, or would he crack? Barlow drove himself on and soon after 1 a.m. went out on another patrol with Annie Hill, who was one of the few who knew of Barlow's fears and admired this man who fought his fear. As they left the Wardens Post and rounded the corner into Hallam Street, Barlow saw what he thought was a light shining at the top of the tower of the Central Synagogue which straddled the block between Hallam Street and Great Portland Street. Perhaps a careless individual had left a light burning - there would be hell to pay for them if this were the case but as he drew closer, he realised that the roof was on fire and that the incendiary bombs had ignited a gas pipe. Barlow knew from his meticulous notes that fourteen people would be sheltering in the basement and leaving Hill to deal with a shocked and hysterical woman that they had encountered, ran alone to the synagogue.

Across the road in Yalding House, a tenement block with a basement shelter, Sam Ekpenyon had also seen the fire in the Synagogue and sent a report back to Post D2. He had stayed put and as the shelterers felt the blast from another nearby bomb and began to bolt towards the exit, this giant of a man blocked their way and refused to let them out. His calm, assured presence did the trick and the shelterers not only stayed put but began to join in community singing led by Ekpenyon himself.

Meanwhile, Barlow reached the entrance to the synagogue basement only to find it blocked by a huge fall of rubble. Using his tin hat as a makeshift shovel, he clawed away at the rubble to eventually break through and crawl into the basement. He found the shelterers, amongst them Mr and Mrs Roth, the caretakers and began to lead them out through an alternative exit that led into Great Portland Street. He led the men out first, as they were coherent and responded to his instructions. Mrs Roth was almost paralysed with fear and he had decided to return for her and lead her out alone so as not to hold up the rest of the group. As he got the men out, he went straight back into the now blazing building, found Mrs Roth again and began to lead her out. Just as they were nearing the exit, a large part of the roof fell in on them. By this time another warden saw all this happen and felt sure that Barlow must have perished. Nonetheless, this un-named warden sprinted back to Post D2 and called for help.

Inside the synagogue, Barlow was very much alive and shortly after the warden had rushed off to report his probable demise, Barlow had in fact broken through into the street, somewhat singed but still with Mrs Roth firmly in his grasp. He found another warden, Arthur Fayers and sent the party off in Fayers' charge to another shelter for medical attention. Incredibly, Barlow himself went back into the burning building to see if anyone else remained inside. Now though, shortly after re-entering the building for the third time at 1.45 a.m., the whole of the roof fell in on him. Amazingly, he survived this too and scrambled out through a side exit further down the road. Barlow saw rescue workers milling about the entrance but it didn't occur to him that they were in fact, looking for him. Meanwhile, he noticed that 143-149 Great Portland Street, a car showroom, was also ablaze and his memory told him that there were fire watchers stationed here.

He charged down the stairs into the basement and found that the three men were in a badly shocked state and had also been cut by flying glass. To make matters worse, the cars stored here were on fire and Barlow had to lead the first two men through this deadly obstacle course to get the men safely out into the street. Once again Barlow returned inside and eventually led the third man to safety, although by this time Barlow felt a strange sensation in his ankles. It later transpired that his rubber boots had begun to melt and fused his woollen socks into a sticky mess. This party of stunned and terrified survivors were ushered to a nearby First Aid Post. Back in the street again, Barlow saw yet another building, Hallam House on fire and once again instantly knew how many people were inside. This time there were fifteen; fortunately thirteen of them had managed to escape by themselves but Barlow went inside the rubble strewn building and using his tin hat once again to scrape a way through, managed to free the remaining two survivors inside twenty minutes.

For the next two hours, Barlow organised a bucket chain of wardens and fire watchers to keep the walls of the buildings adjoining the blazing synagogue cool. His energy was amazing - this quiet man had performed extraordinary deeds; even more extraordinary considering that some of his colleagues thought that he was dead!

Back at Wardens Post D2, Eileen Sloane, who had been left in charge by Barlow, was in despair. Some four hours previously she had received a report that he was buried inside the synagogue and had heard nothing since. The next thing she was aware of was the image of Barlow, who was covered from head to foot in white dust. Sloane was one of Barlow's few close friends and their friendship had been the talk of the post. Upon seeing him, she broke down and cried.

At 5.52 a.m. on Sunday 11th May 1941, the 'All Clear' had sounded. London was a city licking it's wounds, which were grievous indeed. This raid had been the heaviest of the entire Blitz but mercifully, although Londoners were not to know this right now, it was also to prove the last as Hitler, despite the entreaties of his Luftwaffe commanders, decided to turn his attentions eastwards, towards Russia and the promise of lebensraum for the German volk. Despite this, Goering and Sperrle wanted to continue to attack London. Two thirds of the Luftwaffe was to remain in the western theatre but Hitler was having none of it. Unwittingly, and not for the first or the last time, the incompetent 'military genius' that was Adolf Hitler had done his enemies a huge favour.

If he were to have known the havoc wrought in London, he may have had second thoughts. Fourteen hospitals had been hit, fifty percent of London's telephone circuits were broken, twenty Fire and Ambulance Stations were out of action, the Port of London was down to a quarter of it's capacity, 605 water mains were broken, 71 key war production factories were knocked out, 8,000 roads were rendered impassable with rubble and every main line railway station was out of action as were all through rail routes across the capital. In addition, some 155,000 people were without water, gas or electricity on this grim Sunday morning. This was destruction on a scale that London had never seen before, or thankfully, since. The value of the damaged caused was £ 20,000,000 at 1941 values but even this staggering sum cannot cover the human cost. A series of raids on this level would have had serious repercussions indeed and Churchill ordered the emergency services to draw up plans accordingly. The general opinion was that two more raids of this intensity would leave London at a standstill.

It never happened. Apart from conquering his own demons, Stanley Barlow deservedly was awarded the George Medal for his incredible acts of bravery on this night of nights. Amongst the public, the attitudes of Londoners towards their German counterparts hardened noticeably after this raid. When the RAF began plastering German cities later in 1941 and early in 1942, the general feeling was one of wreaking revenge - a revenge which was to be terrible in it's intensity.

Today, thanks to a remarkable find of home movie footage donated to Westminster City Council's archives, we can see Stanley Barlow, Sam Ekpenyon and the other wardens of Post D2 in colour footage. Check out this link http://westendatwar.org.uk/page_id__124_path__0p27p.aspx to see this evocative footage.

Published Sources:

The City that Wouldn't Die - Richard Collier, Collins 1959
Westminster at War - William Sansom, Faber & Faber 1947

More shameless self-publicity

2011-06-18T18:32:00.008+01:00

Those of you who are regular readers of this blog will know that the Blitzwalkers are shy, self effacing types who usually follow the example of the Royal Navy in being the 'Silent Service'. Just occasionally though we break this rule in order to keep our readers informed as to what we have been getting up to recently and also to thank some of our faithful walkers.

The first photograph shows Spanish Blitz Walker Luis Garcia Guzman Garcia, who is proudly holding a copy of Clive Harris and Neil Bright's book 'A Wander Through Wartime London' which he purchased in Waterstone's Hampstead Heath branch after he and his partner came along on the ever-popular 'Old Southwark in the Blitz' walk in May during their holiday in London.

During the middle of May, we also had the pleasure of hosting a large group from the U.S.A. in the form of The Touring Club of New Bern, North Carolina during the London portion of their 'Blitz to Bayeux' tour that took in London, Chartwell, Hastings, Guernsey, Normandy and Paris. Neil and I guided the group on two walks through Westminster and then the City of London and the second photograph shows yours truly under the portico of St Martin in the Fields Church in Trafalgar Square with some of the group whilst we were listening to one of Edward R Murrow's famous wartime broadcasts made from that very spot nearly 71 years ago.

The group were an absolute pleasure to guide and thanks are due to Libbie Griffin for choosing the Blitzwalkers and for the group as a whole in being such good company.

In addition to our 'public' walks advertised on this blog, we have a continuing busy schedule of private walks coming up , so we will be hoping for an improvement in the weather, at least without rain to hinder us!

We always welcome enquiries for private walks as well as our public walks and can be contacted on info@blitzwalkers.co.uk or through the 'contact us' facility on our main website.

Doodlebugs, Buzz Bombs and Robots

2011-06-12T17:17:00.010+01:00

13th June 1944: The Allies had been ashore in Normandy for six days; the invasion of Europe was under way and the Germans were being inexorably pushed back yard by yard out of the territory they had invaded some four years previously and although the Allies were not to know it at the time, the European war had less than a year to run its course.

London at this time was a city licking its wounds. The great raids of 1940/41 were now but a memory but large swathes of the capital were still in ruins and would remain in this state for many years to come – in some cases until the 1960s and 70s and although the raids of the ‘Baby Blitz’ had been nowhere near as intense, they too had rendered large areas of the city uninhabitable. So the news of the invasion had been greeted with cautious optimism by Londoners, perhaps the end was in sight and perhaps there would be no more bombs.

It was not to be; at 04:25 the Grove Road railway bridge at Bow, in London’s East End was struck by a large explosion. The bridge and the railway track were badly damaged, several houses were badly damaged and six people were killed. Moments before the explosion, eyewitnesses had heard what vaguely sounded like a crashing aircraft and had found remnants of what looked like a small aeroplane amongst the wreckage but could find no trace of a pilot. There was no pilot, for what had caused the explosion had been the first of Hitler’s Vergeltungswaffe or Vengeance Weapons. Officially known as the Fieseler Fi103, these weapons were effectively the first form of cruise missile and were launched from fixed ramp sites in the Pas de Calais area of France and had been developed by the Luftwaffe at the Peenemunde site where the second of the Vengeance Weapons, the terrifying V-2 rocket was also under development. Thanks to the bravery of agents on the ground and also the actions of the RAF’s reconnaissance pilots, the site had been bombed by the RAF and the programme set back by six months or so but the bomb that fell on Grove Road was amongst five launched that night; in fact the first one had landed in Kent shortly before the one that fell in Bow but after this first wave of attacks, nothing happened for two more days, as if these first bombs were finding the range.

The Civil Defence records for these first incidents describe them as ‘PAC’ or Pilotless Aircraft, soon afterwards the description changes to ‘FLY’ for Fly-Bomb and this is what the majority of Londoners called them – Flying Bomb, although the media soon christened them ‘Buzz Bombs’ or ‘Doodlebugs’, whilst some ruder citizens called them Farting Furies due to the distinctive rasping sound made by the pulse jet engine.

The V-1 was a sophisticated piece of engineering, which was powered by a pulse jet engine capable of giving a speed of 400 mph and was guided by a gyrocompass autopilot system and designed to ensure that the engine would cut out when it reached its target – usually London – by an odometer which was powered by a small anemometer in the nose. Londoners would soon learn to rush for cover when the engine cut out and the brief eerie silence which followed was the only chance people on the ground had to avoid death at the hands of the 850 kg Amatol warhead in the ‘Robots’, which was another popular name in the media for the new weapons.

Despite what in 1944, was the futuristic nature of the V-1, they could be defended against. The capital’s anti-aircraft guns were quickly redeployed from the parks and open spaces in and around London to the south coast of England and the Thames Estuary, so as to intercept them as they crossed the coast. The new proximity shells and the radar guidance of the guns were extremely effective in bringing down the robots – on average, one shell in every hundred fired brought down a buzz bomb. The defences were arranged in layers; for any V-1s that evaded the guns, the next layer was the balloon barrage, which had also been moved from London. These large balloons were tethered with thick steel cables which could tear the wings from a low flying aircraft but in the case of the V-1s were largely ineffective; the leading edges of the wings of the doodlebugs had been fitted with cable cutters and fewer than three hundred were thought to have been brought down this way. The next line of defence was the aircraft of RAF Fighter Command. The later marks of Spitfire, the new Hawker Tempest and the even newer Gloster Meteor jet fighters were more than capable of keeping up with the V-1s, although it took considerable nerve to fly behind a flying bomb with a near one tonne warhead and then to pump cannon shells into it for the resulting explosion could quite easily take the attacker with it as well. Some pilots preferred to fly alongside the V-1 and disrupt the air flow beneath the wings by placing the wing of the fighter beneath the wing of the robot without touching it, thus throwing the gyro stabilizer into confusion and causing the weapon to pancake into the ground. This manoeuvre also required considerable skill and courage but the ‘anti-diver’ patrols, combined with the anti-aircraft guns and balloons, as well as the false information about the fall of the missiles fed to Germany by double agents, most notably Juan Pujol, aka Garbo, all managed to ensure that about 7,500 of the almost 10,000 launched at London never reached their target.

Despite all these counter measure, bombs still got through and the worst incident was to occur on the first weekend of the attacks. It was Sunday June 18th and the regular service in the Guards Chapel in Birdcage Walk was under way and at 11:20 Colonel Edward Hay was reading the lesson at the lectern when at that instant, the chapel was obliterated in a massive explosion. A V-1 had struck with a direct hit and Hay, along with 121 others was killed instantly. The Guards Chapel was in ruins; in places the rubble was ten feet thick and it took two days to dig out all of the victims; 141 others were seriously injured but miraculously, the Bishop of Maidstone who had been conducting the service was totally unhurt. The portico of the ruined chapel which had sheltered the bishop and which was the only part of the building to survive, forms part of today’s rebuilt Guards Chapel which contains a Book of Remembrance for those lost in the disaster. Another shocking incident in Central London came a few days later on the 30th June, when Adastral House, home of the Air Ministry in the Aldwych suffered a V-1 strike; 48 people were killed, mainly office workers and the photograph of the immediate aftermath, shown above, shows an ominous mushroom cloud rising above Fleet Street as Londoners hurry about their business.

Incident after incident followed with depressing regularity and it became imperative for the invading armies in France to overrun the Pas de Calais in order to bring the attacks to an end. By the end of September 1944, this had been achieved and the last of the regular V-1 attacks was over. Over 6,000 civilians had been killed in London alone with a further 17,000 injured. Although the fixed launch sites had been overrun, V-1s were still launched from converted Heinkel 111 bombers, mainly at Antwerp, which was hit by a further 2,448 missiles between October 1944 and March 1945. The V-1s had finished with London but worse, much worse was to come in the form of the V-2 rockets, the first of which was to fall in Chiswick on 8th September 1944.

Although these rockets were to fall on England until late March 1945, the final enemy activity of the Second World War on British soil occurred from an air launched V-1, which fell harmlessly in open countryside in Datchworth, Hertfordshire on 29th March 1945, barely six weeks before the end of the war in Europe.

Published Sources:

The Doodlebugs - Norman Longmate, Hutchinson 1981
War Diaries 1939-45 Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke - ed Alex Danchev & Daniel Todman, Wiedenfeld & Nicolson 2001
Westminster in War - William Sansom, Faber & Faber 1957

For God & Country

2011-06-03T21:44:00.011+01:00

This week we have a guest blogger in the shape of Dave O’Malley from Vintage Wings of Canada, which is an aviation museum and charitable organisation based at Gatineau Ottawa Airport, Quebec dedicated to the preservation, restoration and maintenance of classic aircraft from the early history of powered flight. Dave also produces an excellent blog called 'Vintage News' at www.vintagewings.ca and when in Canada, a visit to this wonderful museum is a must.

No one has ever accused me of being a religious man. Not in the last four decades anyway. Perhaps it was all those years as an altar boy trudging to church through ice pellets and snow squalls at 5 a.m. during a black-as-night Canadian winter morning, my heavy boots squeaking on the hard snow. Perhaps it was the hundreds of masses I served in an overheated church where I knelt, rang hand bells, yawned and teetered on the edge of sleep while Monsignor Costello droned on in Latin for the benefit of one lonely lady and the Organ Master.

On two occasions in those days, I was stopped in the frozen, black, suburban void of Elmvale Acres two hours before sun-up by the single cherry-red light of a prowling police cruiser. What, in God's name, I was asked, was a freckle faced 12-year old kid in duffel coat, ear muffs and Second World War flight boots doing in a world that belonged to sidewalk sanders, milkmen and officers of the law?

One day about 40 years ago, much to the silent displeasure of my father, I stopped going to church alltogether, and I have never entered a church since that day with the intention of praying or finding solace and contemplation. I have never since that day felt a spirit dwelling in any church that I have visited for weddings or funerals. Perhaps there was a spirit, but I have not been able to feel it.

That all changed last fall when visiting London on Vintage Wings of Canada business. One of the places I was hoping to visit on my down time was a small (by Westminster standards) church buried deep in one of the most historic sectors of London. The Church of St Clement Danes first came to my attention while watching a video on the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight. During that documentary, the Flight was honoured with their unit crest being carved in slate and embedded in the floor of this unique and beautiful church. I had never before heard of this practice, this place of worship, this glorious tradition. I made it an imperative to visit while in London.

The site of St. Clement Danes on the Strand has been a place of worship for more than 1,200 years and the church structure that stands on it now has been here for 330 years. The main structure was designed by none other than Christopher Wren, the best known and highest acclaimed architect in British history. After the Great London Fire of 1666, Wren was tasked with the rebuilding no less than 51 razed churches in the City of London alone. One was St. Clement Danes, while one was his the crowning masterpiece of his life's work - St. Paul's Cathedral. Having a university degree in architecture, I was doubly excited to behold one of his buildings for the first time.

While a religious edifice of some kind has endured here since 600 years before Columbus discovered the New World, in all that time none of the buildings found here were ever draped in the glory, honour, sadness and history now found contained within its present four walls. But to get to that glory, first St. Clement Danes had to face its own trial by Satan's fire and a scourging by the whips of blasted metal from the angels of darkness.

On the night of the 10th of May, 1941 and into the morning of the 11th, the St. Clement Danes on the Strand was ravaged by direct hits from incendiary bombs and viciously lashed by huge chunks of shrapnel from near misses of high explosive aerial bombs. Satan's dark angels in the form of Hitler's Heinkels dropped load after load on central London in what was to be for all intents and purposes the last night of the Blitz.

On this night, which was to be the last major attack on London, the Luftwaffe amassed 550 bombers. When the sun came up on the 11th of May, St. Clement Danes was a smoking shell and many other important buildings were destroyed or seriously damaged including The Houses of Parliament, the British Museum and St. James Palace. The death toll that night was 1,364 Londoners killed and 1,616 seriously injured. After the "All Clear", the steady and determined British set to work to clear the rubble, bury their dead and get back to the business of defeating the Evil Empire.

After the war, the ruin that was Wren's beautiful and elegant work was left until its future could be secured. Because the church was burned but still standing as a result of the German attacks, it came to symbolize, along with the pilots of the Battle of Britain, the strength of the British resolve in the face of dire circumstance. And because it was damaged as the result of a to-the-death aerial war that was eventually won by the Royal Air Force, the church was handed over to them in 1953. Following an appeal for funding that secured £ 250,000 and reached around the world to the airmen and air forces of the Commonwealth, the church was restored to its original Christopher Wren beauty.

In 1958, St. Clement Danes was consecrated as the Central Church of the Royal Air Force and opened by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Today the church stands as a living and growing spiritual tribute to the sacrifices of the airmen of the Commonwealth during the Second World War and to the continuing sacrifices of the RAF to this very day.

Every inch of the walls, floor and ceiling is a memorial of some kind to airmen. Above the balcony hang a number of stood down unit colour standards. Below each lower window is a glass case above which stands an eagle and in which sits a book of remembrance - one airman to a page. The 8th and 9th US Air Forces stationed in the United Kingdom during the war years are included with a shrine. The whole ground floor is a sweeping plain of white stone patterned by a seeming endless galaxy of 1,000 insets of Welsh slate in the shape of RAF unit badges. A special stone and brass mosaic at the entrance has the crest of the RAF surrounded by eight crests of the Commonwealth air forces (some of which no longer exist), while another in the left aisle has the Polish eagle surrounded by the armorial symbols of the sixteen Polish squadrons of the RAF during the Second World War.

Gift tributes found throughout the church include: the altar from the Netherlands, the lectern from the Royal Australian Air Force, a chair from Douglas Bader to the memory of his first wife - Thelma who died in 1971, a chair honouring surgeon Sir Archibald McIndoe and The Guinea Pig Club, and a processional cross from the Air Training Corps. The organ on the balcony at the rear was a gift from the US Air Force. The basement crypt has been made into a quiet and secluded chapel, with an altar from the Netherlands Air Force, a baptismal font from the Norwegians, and a candelabrum from the Belgian Air Force

The carillon bells were hung in 1957 with a big bass bell nick-named “Boom” in commemoration of Marshal of the Royal Air Force Hugh Trenchard, GCB OM GCVO DSO who organised the RAF from its inception. “Boom” Trenchard had just died the year before the bells were hung.

I suppose that part of my problem with the spirituality of churches stems from inside myself. If unable to open a door inwards I could hardly expect to access whatever lay behind the doors of these buildings. There was of course this one very powerful exception. Walking down the Strand from Trafalgar, the knowledge of where I was and of what happened there 70 years ago was like a crowbar to the jamb of that inner door. The closer I got to the church, the more that door was forced open and as I walked through the doors of St. Clement Danes, some huge wind of release threw that heavy gate solidly back. This church was clearly different and so was my openness.

Somewhat soiled and grey on the outside and pockmarked by shrapnel, the interior is a sunlit sanctuary that begs for silence, encourages contemplation and awards the visitor with spiritual warmth. There is a spirit of triumph and yet there is a lesson on human failure here too - how they blend so well is a mystery. Gold leaf, carvings, military colours, holy names and an ocean of squadron crests speak to glory, history and accomplishment, while the totality of the sacrifice of airmen and women during the wars of the 20th century hangs like smoke in the air. The place is a strange mixture of uplifting, soaring euphoria and heavy, crushing sadness. These equal and opposite emotional effects serve to keep the visitor solidly and powerfully centred within the walls and vaulted ceilings of St. Clement Danes

When we left the sanctuary and silence of that beautiful church, we came out to a sunny day and a bustling, lively city. London is a proud and in my opinion, a very happy city. She has endured much over the centuries, and suffered most during Second World War. But she is as alive today as she has ever been, thanks in part to the Royal Air Force. It is fitting then that a church so wounded in the conflagration would rise from the ashes of one of London's worst, yet defining, moments and become the vessel into which much of the sadness was poured. I have seen and heard how people who suffer great personal loss need closure - a part of that lost person, a memorial, a place to grieve, to come to terms with the reality of the loss so that life may resume and the sun can shine. St Clement Danes represents closure for a city, a nation, a commonwealth and its alliances and for those who visit an individual. The rebirth of St. Clement Danes represents a moment of spectacular creativity by the Royal Air Force, one for which I offer thanks from Vintage Wings of Canada.

I'm not going back to church on a regular basis anytime soon to be perfectly honest, but I thank the RAF of all people, for a glimpse at what faith must be like. Me... I will put my faith in the strength of our heroes, armed forces, first responders, hard workers, volunteers, givers, team players and history makers - so many of whom hold faith in a God I have yet to find.

As a footnote to Dave's excellent and thought provoking article, perhaps we should mention the Reverend William Pennington-Beckford, who was appointed as Rector of the church in 1910. It is fair to say that Beckford loved this church and amongst his many duties, he oversaw the annual ceremony of the presentation of oranges and lemons to local schoolchildren, for St Clement Danes is the 'Oranges and Lemons' church of the famous nursery rhyme. In the photograph below, he can be seen in the centre background watching the ceremony.

On the night of 10th/11th May 1941, Beckford, by now an elderly man but still the rector of St Clement Danes, stood watching in tears as his beloved church was bombed and burnt to the ground. Within a month, he was dead; some said he died from a broken heart.

"Oranges and Lemons" say the Bells of St Clement's
"You owe me five farthings" say the Bells of St Martin's
"When will you pay me?" say the Bells of Old Bailey
"When I grow rich" say the Bells of Shoreditch
"When will that be?" say the Bells of Stepney
"I do not know" say the Great Bells of Bow
"Here comes a candle to light you to Bed
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head
Chip chop chip chop - the Last Man's Dead."

Escape to Victory (2)

2011-05-29T19:06:00.008+01:00

In our last blog article, we began to examine the evacuations of the British Expeditionary Force and perhaps more belatedly, their French allies from the French Channel ports. Because of the sheer magnitude and the huge number of troops returned to these shores, the main evacuation at Dunkirk, known at the time as Operation Dynamo, has rightly secured it's place in British history as one of the turning points of the war, which enabled the British to secure the nucleus of it's Army, around which a new and much larger force would be formed and which would return to France as part of the great army of liberation some four years later.

Operation Dynamo was completed on June 4th, when the final French elements were brought across to Dover. However, approximately 20,000 British soldiers remained in the Abbeville-Rouen-Le Havre triangle, facing the Germans across the River Somme. This included the bulk of the 51st Highland Division, which had been undertaking a tour of duty on the Maginot Line. The Germans were advancing at such a rapid pace, there was no option but to order an evacuation from Le Havre and the operation, code named 'Cycle' was put into effect on June 9th. On this night, no British troops were evacuated but the French were able to complete their own evacuation. One of the ships involved was HMS Wellington, which today is moored on the Victoria Embankment in London as the headquarters ship and livery hall of the Honourable Company of Master Mariners. The following day - June 10th, destroyers were sent to investigate the possibility of evacuating troops from the coast between Le Havre and Dieppe but at 1530 these vessels came under fire from shore batteries, which revealed that the Germans had broken through to the coast, thus cutting off the escape route of 51st Highland Division to Le Havre.

It was therefore decided to concentrate the shipping required on the small fishing port of St Valery en Caux and began to arrive accordingly in the early hours of June 11th. Unfortunately, the bulk of the Highlanders had been delayed in their withdrawal and the only troops evacuated that night were some forty stretcher cases, some walking wounded and a handful of able bodied British and French troops. It was reported to the Royal Navy beach party that the majority of the Division would be ready for evacuation on the night of 12th June but shortly afterwards, the port came within range of German artillery and due to this, combined with patchy fog descending on the beaches, meant that the evacuation was far from smooth and many ships were hit by German artillery fire. By 0830 on the 13th, it became clear that further evacuation was impossible; the beaches were under intense fire from east and west and an hour later, the evacuation fleet was withdrawn to sea. No further troops had reached the beach and some 8,000 men of the 51st Highland Division under the command of Major General Victor Fortune surrendered. Unlike Dunkirk, this evacuation had fallen foul of the weather and the speed of the German advance. However, Operation Cycle had not been a complete failure and including the evacuations from Le Havre, some 14,500 British and 900 French troops were evacuated to Britain.

Despite these evacuations, British forces elsewhere in France were still being reinforced and a Second British Expeditionary Force was formed, under the command of General Alan Brooke, himself only recently returned to Britain from Dunkirk. This force was designed to show solidarity with Britain's French allies but as Brooke himself reported to Churchill, it was impossible to make a corpse have feelings and it was quickly concluded following a three way telephone conversation between the Chief of the Imperial General Staff, Sir John Dill, Brooke and Churchill, that Franch collapse was imminent and that all remaining British personnel should be withdrawn as soon as possible.

Therefore on June 15th, preparations were made for the evacuation of some 140,000 troops from Cherbourg, Granville, St Malo, Brest, St Nazaire, Nantes and La Pallice. Unlike at Dunkirk, it was possible on this occasion to salvage a certain amount of equipment in the shape of equipment, stores and vehicles. The operation started on the same day with the withdrawal of British troops from Nantes and continued over the coming days at the ports mentioned above. It was whilst British personnel were being evacuated from St Nazaire a couple of days later that disaster struck.

By 2200 on June 16th, some 17,000 men had already safely embarked in four large liners, the Georgic, Duchess of York and the Polish Batory and Sobieski. These vessels were immediately replaced in the port by the Orient Line's Oronsay and the Cunarder Lancastria. Troops were being ferried out by French tugs, smaller British merchant ships and the destroyers HMS Havelock and Beagle.

The Lancastria was not one of the glamorous Cunarders like the Queen Mary but was one of the workhorses of the fleet, having been built in 1922 for use on the North Atlantic run and also for Mediterranean cruises, which suited her rather plodding 17 knots rather well.

The Lancastria was at anchor and had been loaded with British soldiers, airmen and civilian evacuees since early in the morning but because of the sheer numbers of people being loaded on board, the crew's discipline had lapsed somewhat in as far as the exact numbers boarding were not being recorded in the latter stages of the embarkation. Some witnesses recalled hearing the Chief Officer Harry Grattidge reporting to the Master, Capt Rudolph Sharp that over 6,700 passengers were on board, which combined with the ship's crew of 330 would have put the total number on board at around the 7,000 mark. However, with the lack of an accurate count, the number of passengers on board could well have been much higher - indeed many people were witnessed boarding without anyone to count them on board the vessel and as a result, some sources say that as many as 11,000 people were on board, although this would be a major discrepancy in the counting process.

At around 1200, the first air raid of the day started but the Lancastria had almost completed loading by this time. Despite repeated advice from the Senior Naval Officer, Captain Barry Stevens, in HMS Havelock to get underway, Captain Sharp was reluctant to sail without an escort, preferring to wait for the Oronsay to complete loading and to sail as an escorted convoy in case of U-Boat attack. The Oronsay was hit and damaged during this raid at 1350 but despite this warning, Captain Sharp still refused to sail or even to weigh anchor and steam around slowly thus making a more difficult target for the bombers.

A second raid started at 1545 and Lancastria (pictured in her death throes) was soon struck by four bombs which ripped through the ship's side and caused her to sink inside 30 minutes. Many of those lost were trapped in horrendous conditions inside the vessel's holds. Over 3,700 oil soaked survivors were picked up by other vessels in the port, but because of the uncertainty as to exactly how many were aboard in the first place, the exact death toll is unknown; officially it was put at more than 4,000 but could possibly have been as many as 7,000. Whatever the exact figure, this remains the worst disaster in British maritime history but one which is strangely overlooked perhaps due to the repeated horrors of war having worn down the British people.

In spite of this disaster, Operation Aerial, as this part of the evacuation had been codenamed, saw the return of a further 139,812 British troops as well as 46,515 Allied servicemen, which as well the French included 24,000 Poles and nearly 5,000 Czechs. These forces would face four long years before returning to France but in the meantime, the French airfields which had fallen into German hands would soon bring the British people into the range of the Luftwaffe.

Published Sources:

BEF Ships before, at and after Dunkirk - John de S Winser, World Ship Society 1999
Dunkirk, Fight to the Last Man - Hugh Sebag Montefiore, Viking 2006
Epitaph for Forgotten Thousands - Nicholas Monsarrat, Daily Telegraph 1970

Escape to Victory (1)

2011-05-20T20:55:00.013+01:00

The title of this week's blog doesn't refer to the cheesy 1981 movie starring Michael Caine, Sylvester Stallone, Pele and sundry Ipswich Town footballers of the day, which quite possibly ranks as one of the worst war films of all time. Neither does it relate to those brave men who escaped Nazi Prisoner of War camps to return to Great Britain, but covers the great evacuations of May and June 1940, which enabled the British Army to escape home from France and thus become the nucleus of those forces which would return in 1944 to liberate Europe from Nazi tyranny.

Even those with only a passing interest in the history of the Second World War are probably aware of Dunkirk, the French Channel port through which nearly 200,000 British and 110,000 French troops were evacuated between May 27th and June 4th 1940 but what is not so well known is that although Dunkirk saw by far the largest number of Allied troops evacuated from the clutches of the advancing Germans, it was by no means the only evacuation from the French coast and was just one of a series that saw over half a million mainly British and French servicemen evacuated to Britain, as well as significant numbers of Poles and Czechs who had made their way to France in order to continue the war.

The first of these remarkable mass withdrawals came at the channel port of Boulogne. This port did not originally contain a British garrison but was one of the primary ports used to maintain supplies to the British Expeditionary Force or BEF as it was known, which had been sent to France on the outbreak of war in 1939 to stand alongside the French Army, in what was widely seen as being a repeat of the static warfare seen during 1914-18. By the spring of 1940, this force was some 300,000 strong but although numerically strong, many of the units were still woefully undertrained and poorly equipped despite the best efforts of rising stars of the British Army such as Generals Alan Brooke, Bernard Montgomery and Harold Alexander.

On May 10th, the long awaited German offensive against the Low Countries and France began and despite the early success of the BEF in holding the Germans in their sector, it soon became apparent that the French Army was a shadow of it's former self during the Great War and the British were soon hard pressed to stem the relentless German advance. The French Army was in disarray and coupled with the imminent collapse of the Belgians, the BEF was dangerously exposed and a withdrawal to the coast soon became the only option open to the British if they were going to stand any chance of not losing their Army.

To return to Boulogne, by May 21st the Germans had reached the French coast near Abbeville and became clear that the British were in a race against time to reach and hold their section of the Channel coast before the Germans could complete an encircling operation and cut off the BEF from any chance of escape. It was originally intended to evacuate the BEF from all of the northern Channel ports of Boulogne, Calais and Dunkirk but the speed of events would ensure that Dunkirk and it's adjacent beaches would be the centre of the withdrawal.

Although Boulogne did not contain a British garrison, it did contain a 1,500 strong contingent of No. 5 Group Auxiliary Pioneer Corps, who had been engaged on dock labour work unloading the various cargo ships supplying the BEF. These men were largely unarmed and not trained in combat but were commanded by Lieutenant Colonel Donald Dean VC, who had won this highest award for bravery with the Royal West Kent Regiment in the Great War. Dean was a determined commander and although many of the Pioneers in Boulogne were later reported to have been ill-disciplined and disorderly, the men under Dean's command were made of different stuff. Despite having no anti-tank guns, they improvised road blocks with abandoned lorries and petrol bombs and thus managed to hold off the German tanks long enough to enable them to withdraw to the inner harbour to join up with the Brigade of Guards who had been sent across the Channel to stiffen the port's defences whilst the port was evacuated. The 20th Guards Brigade, comprising the 2nd Irish Guards and 2nd Welsh Guards had originally been sent in the hope of not only holding the town but also of linking up with the British garrison at the neighbouring port of Calais

This idea very quickly proved to be wishful thinking in the extreme and shortly after first light on the 23rd May, the Germans completed their encirclement of the port when they captured the Fort de la Creche. The Germans then mounted an attack on the main defences of Boulogne but although heavily pressed, the Irish and Welsh Guards held firm, supported by makeshift platoons of the Pioneers who had been armed with rifles taken from the wounded and from those who had already managed to embark for England.

The evacuation was now in full swing and as always, it was the Royal Navy that came to the rescue with a succession of destroyers entering the port whilst under heavy fire from the German armour, which was now well within firing range of the harbour. During the late afternoon, whilst HM Ships Keith and Vimy were alongside the Gare Maritime embarking a mass of troops and evacuees, they also came under air attack from Stuka dive bombers. By a miracle and also the intervention of the RAF, no hits were registered on the British destroyers but another hazard was about to manifest itself. Due to the state of the tide, the bridges of the British vessels were exposed above the level of the quayside and as the air raid was clearing, Captain David Simson of the Keith fell dead, hit by a German sniper located in an adjacent hotel that overlooked the harbour. The enemy was moving ever closer and shortly afterwards, Lieutenant Commander Donald, commanding officer of the Vimy was also hit, as were several others - both officers and men of the destroyers and also their passengers. The destroyers then left port under the command of their First Lieutenants and on their passage back to Dover performed the melancholy task of burying their dead at sea.

The Navy was undeterred and as these destroyers left, their place was taken by HMS Whitshed (pictured) and HMS Vimiera which began the task of embarking the Irish Guards and Brigade HQ whilst at the same time disembarking a demolition party from the Royal Engineers tasked with the destruction of the port's facilities so as to deny their use to the Germans. Following the embarkation of these men, it was the turn of the Welsh Guards to leave and two further destroyers, Venomous and Wild Swan moved into the port to fulfil this task. A third destroyer, the Venetia was also ordered in but as she entered the harbour was struck hard by German artillery. It was clear that the Germans wanted to sink her in the harbour entrance, thus blocking the port and bottling up the remaining destroyers inside. By skilled ship handling though, she was able to manouvre full astern out of the harbour and on fire aft, managed to escape back to England.

The Germans were now getting ever closer and as enemy columns were seen moving through the town, the destroyers deployed their 4.7 inch (120mm) main armament against the Panzers with absolutely devastating effect. It was probably the first effective anti-tank fire that the Germans had encountered; at least one tank was seen to somersault through the air following a near miss from a 4.7 inch shell and two tanks were obliterated by direct hits from HMS Whitshed. According to one eye witness who saw the destruction of the tanks:

"The shout of triumph that went up from the embarked troops was more suitable for the football ground than the field of battle and order had to be restored by megaphone, also at point blank range!"

Soon after 2100, Venomous and Wild Swan slipped their moorings and left the harbour. Even so, British troops still remained within Boulogne - many Welsh Guardsmen including almost three companies who had become separated from the main body of the Guards Brigade during the fighting and about 800 Pioneers remained along with the Sappers of the Demolition Parties as well as some wounded men being cared for by the Padre and Medical Officer of the Pioneers. So, at about 2230 the destroyer HMS Windsor entered the harbour and took off 600 men including most of the Pioneers and Demolition Parties and at 0140 the following morning, HMS Vimiera, making her second trip entered the port and embarked an incredible 1,400 men in just over an hour - the last to embark was the redoubtable Lieutenant Colonel Dean, who only just made it; he had been knocked out by a nearby explosion but had recovered just in time to make it onboard. He had wanted to return to the port to bring more men who were taking cover underneath railway wagons but had been dissuaded from doing so by Lieutenant Commander Roger Hicks in command of Vimiera, whose ship was jammed full and who understandably wanted to sail before daybreak.

Vimiera then returned to England in a dangerously overloaded condition. Sadly, the three companies of Welsh Guards - just over 300 men - began to arrive just after Vimiera sailed but even then could still have been saved had a further destroyer, HMS Wessex not been diverted to Calais at the last moment. No further vessels were sent to Boulogne and these fine soldiers mostly all became prisoners of war for five long years. Despite this, some 4,300 men had been evacuated from Boulogne, although the garrison along the coast at Calais was to be largely sacrificed to the Prisoner of War camps in an attempt to buy time for the main evacuation at Dunkirk.

As mentioned earlier, Operation 'Dynamo' as the embarkation at Dunkirk was officially titled, is well known but in the next part of this article, we shall take a look at the post-Dunkirk evacuations which brought a further 140,000 British and 46,500 Allied servicemen back to these shores but which also brought Britain's worst disaster at sea.

Published Sources:

B.E.F. Ships before, at and after Dunkirk - John de S Winser, World Ship Society 1999 Dunkirk: Fight to the Last Man - Hugh Sebag-Montefiore, Viking 2006
Dunkirk: Retreat to Victory - Major General Julian Thompson, Sidgwick & Jackson 2008
V and W Class Destroyers 1917-45 - Anthony Preston, Macdonald & Son 1971
With Ensigns Flying - David A Thomas - William Kimber 1958

When the lights came on again; VE Day, London 1945

2011-05-08T21:00:00.010+01:00

‘When the lights go on again’ was one of the many evocative wartime songs by Vera Lynn and although released in 1943 when the end of the war seemed a long way off, by May 1945 the lights really were coming on again. The wartime blackout had been relaxed slightly in the autumn of 1944 and had become known as a ‘dim-out’ but this was nowhere near the full level of lighting that older Londoners were accustomed to. In May 1945 though, Britain had been at war for getting on for six years and some children had never known anything but dark nights and the fear of German bombs penetrating the darkness.

By early 1945 it was plain that the Germans were finished and despite the onslaught of V-2 rockets that fell on London until the end of March, it was only a matter of time before the war would be over and to paraphrase the words of the song, the boys would be home again.

However, as with all things connected to war, the end of the European War was shrouded in chaos and uncertainty. On 7th May, everyone knew that Hitler and Goebbels were both dead and that a group of high ranking Germans had surrendered to Field Marshal Montgomery on Luneburg Heath. It was common knowledge that Berlin had fallen to the Russians and that at some point the unconditional surrender demanded by the Allies was about to be signed at General Eisenhower’s headquarters in Rheims but despite all of this, there was no formal announcement as to what was happening for the simple reason that the situation in Europe was ever changing.

In the meantime, the crowds began to converge on London in preparation for the end of the war and the extra paid holiday that had been promised by the Government to mark the end of the war with Germany. The pubs were doing a roaring trade and seemed to have suddenly found extra supplies of booze from somewhere. Everywhere, there was the anticipation of a mass celebration but the British, being then as now a basically reserved nation of people, were reluctant to start partying prematurely.

On the 8th May, it was officially over. Winston Churchill had broadcast to that effect and by that afternoon vast crowds – Londoners and Foreign servicemen and women alike – were flowing into Whitehall, where it had been announced that Churchill would speak at 3 o’clock. Right on time, he appeared on the balcony of the Ministry of Works and told the crowds that hostilities would cease at midnight that night. This naturally was greeted by cheers and when he spoke the words “The German war is therefore at an end” the crowd erupted. His voice cracking with emotion, Churchill ended his speech with the words “Advance Britannia! Long live the cause of freedom! God save the King!” The buglers of the Scots Guards the sounded the ceremonial ‘Cease Fire’ and then the band struck up the National Anthem, which was sung with great reverence by everyone present, young and old, civilians and soldiers alike, many of whom would have been doubtless thinking of absent friends who had not lived to see this day of final victory.

After this moment of reflection, there were of course wild celebrations to be seen, not only in London but in New York, Paris, Brussels and every major city and town in the Free World. Despite these celebrations, there were many who chose not to be with the crowds and preferred to be on their own or just with their families. Many of these people had lost loved ones during the Blitz or on service overseas with the services and whilst they were still glad to see the end of hostilities, they were naturally in a more sombre mood on this special day. It must also be remembered that many thousands of servicemen were still serving overseas, not only in Europe but also fighting the Japanese and the relatives of these men were also not inclined to go overboard with their celebrations.

For the children though, there were the street parties as in the example shown above in Woolwich. Hurriedly organised affairs, they were widespread across the country and as in the case of the pubs, food still strictly rationed seemed to suddenly appear as if by magic and ensured that these street parties were memorable affairs for all concerned.

For those adults still celebrating, London was ablaze with floodlighting, switched on to illuminate buildings rather than German bombers and for those in the suburbs where there was no floodlighting, some huge bonfires were lit on the many bomb sites and these bonfires gave the National Fire Service one of their busiest nights since the Blitz. Many of the large fires got out of hand and as senior fire officer Cyril Demarne recalled, the Fire Brigade soon discovered (or re-discovered) that the public could be very fickle. Only a few weeks ago, the firemen were being cheered as heroes for fighting the fires lit by the German bombs and rockets; now they were being booed as party poopers for dousing the bonfires that were threatening to get out of hand.

Peace had returned to London and although the Japanese war was to continue until August 1945, the people of the capital could at last begin to think about rebuilding their city and their lives.

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1974
London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
The London Blitz: A Fireman's Tale - Cyril Demarne OBE, After The Battle 1991

On this day seventy years ago........

2011-04-22T18:37:00.009+01:00

If we were to restrict this blog to report on events on the 'Home Front' seventy years ago to the day, then this would be a very short article indeed, for basically this was one of the periods in the war when frankly, not much was happening in London. The last big air raids for the time being had taken place two days earlier, on 20th April 1941 as part of the Fuhrer's birthday celebrations and although Londoners were not to know it at the time, they were only to face one more heavy raid of the Night Blitz, which would befall them on the night of 10th/11th May.

In 1941, Easter had already come and gone; Good Friday fell on April 11th and had been marked by a large air raid on Bristol. Some 153 Luftwaffe bombers had dropped their bombs on the Bristol Docks but had also caused heavy damage and started major fires in the city centre and suburbs.

So, moving ahead to the 22nd April 1941, although we find the majority of the British public enjoying a temporary lull in the proceedings, for the fighting men of the British and Empire forces, they were hard pressed at sea, on the land and in the air in a wide variety of theatres and we shall take a brief look at where the British fighting men - this was still some eight months before the Americans entered the war - were occupied.

On land, the Germans were the masters of mainland Europe; they had rolled up the continent almost a year previously, forcing the British and their French, Belgian, Dutch, Polish and Czech allies to hurriedly evacuate through Dunkirk and the Channel ports to the relative safety of Great Britain, from whence they were expecting to have to repel an imminent Nazi invasion. The other theatre for the opposing land forces was in North Africa. This campaign was a veritable roller coaster, with the advantage initially with the British and Commonwealth forces almost sweeping the Italians from the continent and with General Wavell's 30,000 strong Western Desert Force taking 130,000 Italian prisoners at Beda Fomm. The British had then missed a golden opportunity to finish the desert war once and for all by allowing their forces to become diluted by sending battle hardened soldiers to assist the Greeks in resisting invasion. The arrival in February 1941 of a certain General Rommel in the desert with the advance party of the Deutsch Afrika Korps helped swing the balance further in the Axis favour and by April 1941, the British forces were falling back into Egypt with the exception of the port of Tobruk in Libya, which was to be beseiged for 242 days before being relieved by the next British advance in November. In Greece, the Army was up against it and gradually being driven out of both the mainland and from Crete. In Ethiopia, the South Africans were meeting with more success, defeating the Italians at the Camboicia Pass and taking 1,200 prisoners.

In the air, the Battle of Britain had been won and although there were still air raids to repel at night, the RAF's night fighting ability had not developed sufficiently to allow it to become the master of the night skies that they were to become shortly with the advent of the Bristol Beaufighter night fighter and Airborne Intercept (AI) Radar. RAF Bomber Command were still at the beginning of a long road and had not yet become the formidable force that they were to become under Sir Arthur Harris. The four engined 'heavies' in the shape of the Halifax and the legendary Lancaster were yet to enter service and the force was equipped largely with the twin engined Wellingtons, Hampdens and Whitleys, all of which were inadequate for the task in hand and in the case of the latter two types, were little more than flying death traps for their crews. Despite this, Bomber Command was still in action seventy years ago and was busy principally on anti-shipping duties and had managed to put enough bombs on target to put the German battlecruisers Scharnhorst and Gneisnau out of commission and making it impossible for them to join the new battleship Bismarck on what was to prove her ill-fated mission into the Atlantic.

At sea, the problems were still the same; the Royal Navy was engaged in every corner of the globe and the Merchant fleet was struggling to keep the country supplied with the materiel of war as well as keeping the nation supplied with fuel and food. There had never been a 'Phoney War' at sea; the liner Athenia had been torpedoed and sunk on the first day of the war and the aircraft carrier HMS Courageous had followed two weeks later, with the battleship HMS Royal Oak being sunk at her anchorage in Scapa Flow in October 1939 by U-47. Despite these early setbacks, the Royal Navy soon gained the upper hand at sea and by December 1939 had sunk the pocket battleship Graf Spee in the Battle of the River Plate and had enjoyed success during the Norwegian campaign. The Royal and Merchant Navies had achieved the seemingly impossible in bringing the Army out of France and despite seemingly never ending setbacks in guarding the Atlantic Convoys, the Royal Navy had in March 1941, captured or killed three of the Kriegsmarine's 'Ace' U-Boat commanders.

First to go was Gunther Prien of U-47 . He had been christened 'The Bull of Scapa Flow' in Germany for his exploits in sinking the Royal Oak but he and his crew were to die when his submarine was destroyed in a dull red underwater explosion following direct hits from depth charges dropped by HMS Wolverine. Soon to follow was U-100 and Joachim Schepke, crushed to death when his boat was rammed and sunk by HMS Vanoc on 16th March and quickly followed in the same action by Otto Kretschmer (pictured), who was taken prisoner when his U-99 was sunk by Captain Donald Macintyre's HMS Walker. The loss of these three commanders, who had together been responsible for the sinking of over 630,000 tons of Allied shipping marked the end of what the Germans had called the 'Happy Time' and although the Battle of the Atlantic was to last almost to the end of the war, the Germans would never again come so close to severing the British ocean lifelines. Despite this, in April 1941 the British would still lose another quarter of a million tons of shipping and the Atlantic campaign was to become almost a private war of grim survival for those involved.

Apart from the Atlantic, the Royal Navy was everywhere; in the Mediterranean supporting the Army in Greece and Crete on this day, the cruiser HMS York was damaged beyond repair in Suda Bay whilst engaged in the support of British troops in Crete. Later, when the Navy was evacuating troops from Crete back to Egypt, Admiral Andrew Cunningham, the Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet was determined not to let the Army down and when Army generals feared that the Navy was losing too many ships and would have to abandon the operation, he famously remarked:

"It takes the Navy three years to build a new ship; it would take three hundred to build a new tradition. The evacuation will continue."

With determination such as this, it was hardly surprising that 16,500 men out of a total force of 20,000 were rescued, although at the cost of three cruisers and six destroyers.

This then, was the sort of news that the British public were reading about on this day in April 1941 - their brief respite was to continue for another three weeks or so before the Blitz was to reach it's climax on the night of May 10th/11th 1941.

Published Sources:

Alamein: War without hate - John Bierman & Colin Smith, Viking 2002
The Battle of The Atlantic - Terry Hughes & John Costello, Collins 1977
Bomber Command 1939-45 - Richard Overy, Harper Collins 1997
Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange, Grub Street 2008
U-Boat Killer - Donald Macintyre, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1956
Walker R.N. - Terence Robertson, Evans Brothers 1956

The Wednesday, Chelsea Old Church and a heroine from Canada

2011-04-13T19:10:00.000+01:00

This weekend marks the seventieth anniversary of one of the largest as well as one of the last raids of the London Blitz. So heavy and destructive was the raid of the night of the 16th/17th April 1941 that it became known to Londoners as 'The Wednesday'. Whilst most parts of London were affected by this raid, on this occasion it was the western side of the capital that suffered most and large swathes of Chelsea, the West End and St Marylebone were pounded with many lives lost and famous old buildings destroyed. It was also the night that the singer Al Bowlly was killed as he slept in his flat in Jermyn Street, having eschewed the offer of a hotel in High Wycombe after having played a concert there for the comfort of his own bed.

Although Londoners were not to know it at the time, the First Blitz was drawing to a close; Hitler was about to turn his attention eastwards and would require his Luftwaffe resources for Operation Barbarossa - the attack on the Soviet Union and the quest for lebensraum or living space for the German people. Despite this impending attack, a large proportion of the German air force would remain in the west but Hitler had decided against further attacks on London once his onslaught against the Russians had started and no amount of entreaties by the head of the Luftwaffe, Hermann Goring and his senior commanders, Sperrle and Kesselring could change his mind.

This was still in the future though and before the attack to the east, the Fuhrer's 53rd birthday on 20th April was approaching and needed to be celebrated in style. Goring decided on staging two huge raids on the capital, perhaps to flatter Hitler but also to demonstrate to him once and for all that given a free reign, his Luftwaffe could indeed flatten London.

So it was that the two raids on 16th/17th April and then on 19th/20th April were the two heaviest raids thus far of the Blitz and would only be surpassed by what proved to be the last raid on the night of May 10th/11th 1941. As mentioned briefly earlier, the west of London suffered the most in this raid; no area more than the Metropolitan Borough of Chelsea as it then was and inspecting the Civil Defence Incident Log today, one is struck by the number of times that 'The Wednesday' recurs when taking stock of the damage inflicted on the borough by enemy action and indeed, when walking the borough today, there are several memorial plaques located here and there for those in the know that confirm the record.

The Royal Hospital, home of the Chelsea Pensioners, was devastated this night when the Infirmary was destroyed by a Parachute Mine that detonated in the road outside and caused the deaths of fifteen pensioners and hospital staff. Amongst those killed was 101 year old Henry Rattray, a veteran of the 24th Regiment of Foot and survivor of many earlier campaigns.

The Infirmary itself had been an 1809 addition to Wren's original Royal Hospital buildings and had been designed by Sir John Soane. Although heavily damaged, there was arguably enough left of the building to warrant rebuilding but sadly the remains were demolished, with the site today being occupied by the National Army Museum.

Further along Royal Hospital Road was Station 6W of the Auxilary Fire Service or AFS, located in the garages of Cheyne Place. A clue to the location of this station can still be seen today in the form of a large '6W' carved in the stone wall in front of the apartments that now stand on the site. Another Parachute Mine detonated here, killing three Auxiliary Firemen, whose names are recorded on a memorial plaque, erected by the charity 'Firemen Remembered' at the present day Chelsea Fire Station in the King's Road. Another bomb, this time one of the conventional High Explosive variety caused the deaths of a further four AFS men at the Brompton Fire Station, located in Chelsea Square and these men too, are remembered on the plaque at King's Road.

Nor had the night finished with the men and women of the AFS, for when we reach the site of Chelsea Old Church in Cheyne Walk, we can discover perhaps the most poignant story of them all, which concerns a visitor from Canada whose story deserves to be told.

Yvonne Marie Green was a 30 year old thirteenth generation Canadian from Montreal who had recently been divorced from Tyrou Nichol, a British actor. She had re-married, this time to Leonard Green, an officer of the Canadian Army who had been posted on attachment to the Royal Tank Regiment shortly after the outbreak of war. The family home was at 24 Old Church Street, Chelsea but like all worried husbands who were in a position to do something about it, Leonard had tried to move Yvonne to the relative safety of the country and for a while, she dutifully lived with him near his barracks at Farnham in Surrey but being the fiercely independent and fiesty character she was, Yvonne was having none of this and soon moved back to London and later joined the AFS as a Firewatcher based at Chelsea Old Church.

Yvonne had left her baby daughter Penelope, in the safety of Canada with her mother and from her regular correspondence to 'Maman Cherie' which survive in the archives of the Imperial War Museum, we can see just how independent this remarkable lady was. Her letter dated 8th October 1940 demonstrates exactly what she thought of life in the country:

'Here I am back in London again, to your honor and my satisfaction. Honestly, Farnham was a simply dire place and I'd rather face Goering's worst than die from pernicious boredom. I take no chances, believe me, and when I'm not on duty I sleep downstairs very snugly in the basement. Don't alarm yourself when you don't hear from me because I have given instructions that if anything should happen to me you should be informed - so no news is good news - remember that.'

Yvonne's letters are all like that - newsy, common sense, matter of fact and with an unshakeable belief in the final victory of the British Empire and her Allies. By 23rd February 1941, she was writing home to report on her first night stationed at the top of the tower of Chelsea Old Church:

'I had quite an exciting experience on Wednesday night - my first night as a fire watcher. I was as high as one could get in Chelsea Old Church tower being shown around; where the buckets of sand, stirrup pumps and water were. And the bombs dropped! The first we'd seen in our district since September. I tell you, I have never descended a spiral staircase as fast in all my life! It was only a stick of three bombs in the next street which luckily did little damage and only one man hurt-a broken leg. So my experience was not disastrous luckily, but its going to take a lot to inveigle me up to the top of that tower again while a Blitz is in progress. I have never had a head for heights anyway.'

Chelsea Old Church dates from 1157 and includes Sir Thomas More's private chapel that was added in 1528, with the nave and the tower that Yvonne took a dislike to being added in 1670.

On the night of 16th/17th April 1941, Yvonne was not originally meant to have been on duty but had swapped shifts with one of her colleagues. At about 1.00 a.m., whilst the raid was at its height, she and five of her Fire Watching colleagues set off on a patrol along Chelsea Embankment. Whilst one of the team, a Mr Mallett was examining some shell fragments in the road, he became aware of something floating down behind him. He quickly realised that this was a Parachute Mine and shouted at the others to run. His colleagues were about twenty feet away from him and began to run towards Chelsea Old Church. Mr Mallett was running too quickly to turn the corner and follow them, so instead ducked for shelter behind a fire alarm cover. At about the same time, a second Parachute Mine descended between the still running group of five Fire Watchers and the Church. This mine exploded, also setting off the first and in the resulting blast, most of the Church was destroyed and five out of the six Fire Watchers were killed, the only survivor being Mr Mallett.

One of those killed was Yvonne Green, the visitor from overseas known as 'Canada' to her colleagues and 'Papoose' to her Mother. She had written what proved to be her last letter home barely two days previously, on 15th April 1941:

'The Blitz hasn't affected London for some days now or nights. I should say now but I think it is a fair assumption to say that it is purely temporary and we'll be getting it again soon - maybe. Adolf has a little too much on his hands now though to try and defeat civilian morale as well as coping with the armed forces of Greece, Yugoslavia, Australia and us (not forgetting the Free French).'

Yvonne's mother would no doubt have received this final letter after she learned of her daughter's death. Yvonne is remembered today, along with her four colleagues killed on that tragic night by a plaque inside the rebuilt Chelsea Old Church, whilst Yvonne as the only member of the AFS amongst the group, has another plaque dedicated to her outside the church and installed by the excellent 'Firemen Remembered' charity which does so much to keep alive the memory of the men and women of the wartime fire services.

Yvonne's daughter, Penelope Nichol along with her daughter and grandson came over from Canada to unveil the plaque in 2007, providing a wonderful family connection with a heroine from overseas. Yvonne herself is buried at West Hoathly in Sussex.

Published Sources:

Blitz - M J Gaskin, Faber & Faber 2005
London at War 1939-45 - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995

Unpublished Sources:

Imperial War Museum Archives
Royal Borough of Kensington & Chelsea Archives

I am the Boiler Man

2011-04-05T19:21:00.000+01:00

Last week's Blog closed on a note of classic British 'stiff upper lip' and an absolute determination to remain calm in the face of adversity, so perhaps now is a good time to take this facet of the British personality a step further and examine how we managed to keep our sense of humour during the dark days of the Blitz and wartime in general.

Whilst everyone surely agrees that war is a grim experience for everyone, it is also a fact that wartime conditions can bring out the absolute best in people as well as the absolute worst. Among the better aspects of human nature is a sense of humour and even during the darkest days of the Second World War, there are examples of humour - sometimes from a senior officer in the face of adversity to demonstrate to his men that things aren't actually that bad, sometimes what we now call 'gallows humour' and more often than not, simply because the person concerned was a naturally cheerful person and war wasn't going to change anything.

Some of the best examples of the former seem to come from the Royal and Merchant Navies, such as this splendid example from Admiral Sir James Somerville (pictured), newly appointed in command of the Eastern Fleet in 1942 and flying his flag in HMS Warspite. His fleet was largely an ageing and obsolescent one and they were steaming towards very possible destruction at the hands of the Japanese but he still found time to send the following memo to his Executive Officer, Commander Sir Charles Madden, who was a Baronet, which read:

'Dear Charles, I am well aware that as a Baronet you are indifferent to the suffering of mere Admirals, but would you mind having my lavatory unblocked?'

Somerville knew that this message would do the rounds of the messdecks and whilst it made him the butt of his own joke, it demonstrated to the men of his fleet that if he could be unconcerned about the Japanese threat to them, then why should they worry?

Strangely, some of the best examples of gallows humour came from the German side, especially towards the end of the war, when defeat was inevitable. Wehrmacht soldiers in the Western Front were becoming used to the overwhelming Allied air supremacy, with all the discomfort that this brought and soon the saying was doing the rounds:

'If planes show up painted in camouflage markings, then its the RAF. If they show up painted silver, then its the Americans. And if they don't show up at all, then its the Luftwaffe!'

A great example of the third type of humour, that of the genuinely cheerful and cheeky person comes from Angela Raby's excellent book about the London Auxiliary Ambulance Service, 'The Forgotten Service' and concerns Eileen Lamb, a shift leader at Station 39 in Weymouth Mews:

'Eileen was a glamourous society girl with her own flat. Her father was in the Royal Navy and her mother was on the Queen's Working Party at the Palace. While going on leave, Eileen was travelling in a railway carriage alongside an airman who asked to use her lighter. As she lit his cigarette, she accidentally set fire to his magnificent handlebar moustache. She apologised profusely and he was gracious enough to reply that everything was "O.K." However, she made the mistake of lending him her mirror. On seeing with horror the remains of his moustache, he rounded on her: "That's all your fault," to which Eileen replied, "Not so. You're the one who should know about wind direction."'

Winston Churchill, despite the enormous pressures of leading the country in wartime, with all of the trials and tribulations never lost his sense of humour, which could surface at the most unexpected times. After a particularly fraught conference with General De Gaulle, who was never the easiest of allies to get along with, Churchill suddenly turned to General Alan Brooke, the Chief of the Imperial General Staff and said to him "How can one do business with a man who looks like a female llama who has just been surprised in the bath?" Brooke, who was well used to the darker side of Churchill's moods struggled to control his laughter.

If some of the humour seems a little strained by today's standards, we shouldn't forget that the British public were trying to put a brave face on very trying times but the Londoner would always try and have the last word, such as these hecklers at Speakers' Corner, where the speakers in question must have known they were on to a loser from the start:

'What are we fighting for?' cried a speaker.
'Spam!' replied someone in the crowd.

'Who are the two greatest men in the World?' asked another orator.
'Flanagan and Allen' said the voice in the crowd.

Some of the very best humour was unintentional and perhaps we should close with this farcical situation being reported in Westminster during the height of the Blitz.

'Mr Kimmett, Chief Warden's Liaison Officer was conducting a reconnaissance at the Art Metal Company during the Hugh Street incident and asked a man at the door if there was anybody in the building when the bomb fell. The man replied "Only the Boiler Man." Mr Kimmett found out from him where the Boiler Room was and set off to make a search. The building was flooded at the time and though he searched diligently, waist deep in water, he could find no sign of a floating corpse. So he returned to the man at the door and enquired as to the whereabouts of the Boiler Man. The reply he received was "I am the Boiler Man!"'

The reply of Mr Kimmett, or indeed what he thought of the Boiler Man in question probably couldn't be printed here!

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1971
The Fighting Admirals - Martin Stephen, Leo Cooper 1991
The Forgotten Service - Angela Raby, After The Battle 1999
The London Blitz: A Fireman's Tale - Cyril Demarne OBE, After The Battle 1991
Make a Signal - Capt Jack Broome DSC, RN, Putnam 1955
War Diaries 1939-45 - Field Marshall Lord Alanbrooke, editors Alex Danchev & Daniel Todman, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 2001

Unpublished Sources:

City of Westminster Archives

They never closed (well not for long anyway)

2011-03-31T19:15:00.000+01:00

'We never closed' was the motto of the Windmill Theatre situated in London's Soho. Famous for it's scantily clad and often nude tableaux, some Londoners changed this motto to 'We never clothed' but the truth is although The Windmill remained open throughout the worst of the Blitz, it did in common with the remainder of the nation's theatres, close for twelve days from 4th-12th September 1939 following a Government decree that affected all places of entertainment.

This decision, which seemed almost guaranteed to undermine the morale of the public and which was described at the time by George Bernard Shaw as "a masterstroke of unimaginative stupidity" was introduced by a nervous government seemingly in order to close down anything that could not be deemed essential to national life. Although churches were exempted, from this ruling, cinemas and theatres were closed immediately across the land. As with many things British, this edict was in fact, only a guideline issued by the government to local authorities and although they mostly fell into line, the town of Aberystwyth ignored it and allowed their cinemas to remain open. The real reason behind the ruling was that the government wanted to ban anything that could cause large gatherings of people with the potential consequences of bombs falling on such a gathering. When seen from this point of view, perhaps the decision of the government is easier to understand, although it still seems a panicky move which always seemed guaranteed to fail.

It wasn't just cinema and theatre that suffered either; professional sport suffered too. The 1939 cricket season had almost finished in any case and the touring West Indies side had hurriedly sailed for home on Saturday 26th August as the war clouds gathered. The remaining county matches were cancelled and it was to be the summer of 1946 before Test Cricket returned. The 1939-40 football season had only just started and this was cancelled by the Football League on 6th September after only a handful of matches had been played. Friendly matches were later allowed and later still, a league of sorts was introduced in which clubs were allowed to field 'guest players' from other clubs who were serving in the Armed Forces and stationed locally. There was also a 'War Cup' competition complete with a Wembley final which always attracted large crowds. Other sports which required floodlighting such as speedway and greyhound racing were doomed to fall prey to the Blackout and the phrase 'cancelled for the duration' soon crept into the vocabulary of the public. London Zoo and Kew Gardens were also victims of the policy, although both were soon open again, with the Zoo in particular being very popular with visitors - 1.6 million in 1943 alone.

The public soon became restless with this policy and as a result, one of the few British institutions to flourish during the war were the pubs. It would have been a foolish government indeed that tried to close down these generally cheerful places of escape for the public. The general ban on entertainment couldn't last and the cinemas and theatres re-opened from 12th September, in the outer suburbs of London at first and then grudgingly for the inner London venues three days later on 15th September.

Concerts had also fallen foul of the ban but these too resumed, although many of the orchestras suffered through losing members to the call-up. The Queens Hall in Langham Place, itself later to become a victim of the Blitz, re-opened by hosting the London Symphony Orchestra on 24th September 1939, with pianist Myra Hess (pictured) as soloist and it was Hess who was soon to provide some of the cultural highlights of wartime London.

The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square had lost it's collection of paintings to the safety of a disused slate quarry in North Wales and had thus become a largely vacant space. Myra Hess made a proposal to the Director of the Gallery, Kenneth Clark that she play a lunchtime concert there. His reply was to insist that she should play every day and although this was clearly not practical, she agreed to organise a series of concerts in which she would play whenever possible. The first concert was barely publicised but despite this, the queues to enter soon stretched all the way along the north side of Trafalgar Square. These lunchtime concerts became a wartime institution for Londoners and visitors to the capital, with Myra Hess performing in over 250 of the 1,698 concerts that she arranged during six years of the war. Neither were these concerts exclusively for the 'high brow'; soldiers and ARP Wardens rubbed shoulders with intellectuals and Cabinet Ministers and despite being initially limited to an audience of 200, this was frequently overlooked and often crowds of 1,000 plus managed to squeeze into the Gallery. For this contribution to maintaining the morale of the British public, Myra Hess was created a Dame of the British Empire by King George VI in 1941.

Apart from these pursuits, the overwhelming desire of many Londoners was to head for the dance halls. Venues like the Streatham Locarno, Hammersmith Palais and the Paramount Tottenham Court Road reported crowds well above the pre-war averages. There were more dance bands playing than ever before and even the smallest restaurants felt it necessary to employ musicians.

It was inevitable that with these gatherings and the coming of the Blitz in 1940/41, tragedies would ensue and sure enough on the 8th March 1941, the Cafe de Paris in Coventry Street was struck by two bombs which killed eighty people. In a stroke of irony this restaurant, which was located twenty feet below ground, had billed itself as 'London's safest restaurant' but this shield of concrete was not enough to save it from the direct hits of the German bombs and when the rescue workers arrived they found a scene of utter carnage. The bandleader, Ken 'Snakehips' Johnson had been decapitated and diners were still sitting dead at their tables. To make matters worse, looters were mingling with the rescue workers and reportedly cutting the fingers off the dead in order to steal the expensive rings that some were wearing.

Attendances fell away for a while during the height of the Blitz and again during the Terror Weapons campaign of 1944-45 but always quickly picked up again. Civilians needed diversions from the routine of wartime life and service personnel on leave needed reminders of what civilian life was like and indeed a reminder of what they were fighting for.

Life continued and even during air raid warnings, the cinemas and theatres carried on regardless. Perhaps we should close with this message that was displayed to customers entering London's Adelphi Theatre. The gist of the message was repeated in cinemas and theatres across the country but for sheer 'stiff upper lip' this takes some beating:

'When an Air Raid Warning is received, you will be informed from the stage. Those wishing to leave will have seven minutes to find shelter. For those desiring to remain, the show will go on. Walk, not run to the exits. Do not panic. REMEMBER YOU ARE BRITISH.'

As they say in showbusiness - 'follow that!'

Published Sources: Backs to the Wall - Leonard Mosley, Wiedenfeld & Nicolson 1971
London at War - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
The Lost Seasons; Cricket in Wartime 1939-45 - Eric Midwinter, Methuen 1987

Saving an Icon: The St Paul's Watch and a Flawed Hero

2011-03-18T19:44:00.000Z

Probably everyone today is aware of Herbert Mason's iconic photograph of St Paul's Cathedral standing proudly and seemingly untouched amid a sea of smoke and flame on the 29th/30th December 1940, the night that became known as the Second Great Fire of London. This photograph was circulated around the World and became a symbol of the British people's defiance against the Nazi hordes waiting across the Channel.

The truth is that far from being undamaged, the famous old cathedral did in fact sustain quite serious damage on a number of occasions during the War and on the night that Mason's photograph was taken, came within a whisker of joining the ten Wren churches destroyed within the Square Mile on that fateful night. Let us therefore tell the story of St Paul's Cathedral during the War and of those individuals who ensured the survival of Sir Christopher Wren's masterpiece.

During The Great War, the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's had formed the St Paul's Watch in order to guard the Cathedral against German air attacks, which in those days came from the giant airships colloquially known as Zeppelins and the Gotha biplane bombers. In that conflict, the Cathedral had survived unscathed and the Watch had been disbanded in 1918. In 1939, the Watch was reformed as a dedicated team of three hundred fire watchers and fire fighters formed mainly from the Cathedral's own staff but augmented by members of RIBA - the Royal Institute of British Architects - including the future Poet Laureate, Sir John Betjeman. About forty of the Watch were on duty at any one time, with more being drafted in during air raids. On the night of the 29th/30th December, it was estimated that some eight hundred incendiaries fell on and around the Cathedral, all of which were successfully dealt with by the Watch - all except for one rogue bomb which lodged in the lead covering of the Dome. This bomb was too high for those stationed on the Stone Gallery to reach and too far down for the members stationed on the Ball high above street level. As the incendiary fizzled and burst into life, the onlookers could only watch helplessly and pray that somehow the bomb would not fall into the Dome and ignite the timber framework that supported the whole structure, for if this were to happen then the Cathedral was certain to burn like the rest of the City, leaving just a shell. Just as things were looking desperate, either a miracle or a result of gravity occurred, depending on one's point of view and the bomb fell outward, bounced down the side of the Dome and landed on the Stone Gallery where it was pounced upon by members of the St Paul's Watch and quickly extinguished.

The St Paul's Watch was disbanded once again after the war but was reformed once again in 1952 when it was renamed The Friends of St Pauls who today sell guidebooks and assist visitors to the Cathedral.

Even at this relatively early stage of The Blitz, this wasn't the first time that St Paul's had come close to destruction; this had happened just five days into The Blitz, on September 12th 1940 when a tale of bravery and heroism unfolded that ensured the Cathedral's survival but which would ultimately end in disgrace for one of the participants. During this particular raid, a 1,000 kg Delayed Action Bomb fell in the Dean's Yard and buried itself into the cloying London clay. At this time, the Bomb Disposal Squads did not have the means to defuse this type of bomb and the usual tactic was to evacuate the area and let the bomb explode, which usually happened within 72 hours. With St Paul's however, this was not an option; Winston Churchill had decreed that certain buildings were to be saved at all costs and St Paul's was one of them. So it was that Lieutenant Robert Davies and his team of three 'sappers' from the Royal Engineers arrived at the scene and began digging down to reach the bomb. It wasn't a simple matter though - the London clay was wet and the more the men dug, the deeper the bomb seemed to settle in the clay; so much so that by the time the team reached the bomb, it was thirty feet beneath the surface and to compound matters, fumes from a leaking gas main had overcome two of Davies's men and then to make matters even worse, the gas then ignited and the men had to retreat whilst the Gas Board turned off the supply. All of this wasted precious time but work was eventually able to resume and after the painstaking digging, Davies and his remaining assistant Sapper George Wylie, attached a steel hawser around the bomb and attached it to the winch on their truck and began hauling the monster to the surface. A short way into the process, the hawser snapped and the bomb slid slowly back into the clay. A second attempt ended the same way but with the third lift, the men succeeded in bringing the deadly bomb to the surface and it was at this point that Lieutenant Davies personified the phrase 'above and beyond the call of duty' by insisting that his men had faced enough danger and once the bomb was loaded onto the truck, he drove it alone to Hackney Marshes, where it was detonated, leaving a crater one hundred feet across. For their actions in clearing this bomb and undoubtedly saving St Pauls, Lieutenant Davies was awarded the George Cross, as was Sapper Wylie. The other members of the team Sergeant James Wilson and Corporal Herbert Leigh were awarded the British Empire Medal.

Lieutenant Davies's story was an interesting one, which after the award of his George Cross ended in ignominy and disgrace. Born in 1899 in Cornwall, he had emigrated to Canada at a young age and had served in the Canadian Army during the Great War. He had returned to this country shortly before the outbreak of war and had enlisted in the Royal Engineers, becoming a Bomb Disposal expert. Despite his undoubted bravery, Davies's fall from grace was rapid. In 1942, he was charged with and found guilty on multiple counts of Fraudulent Behaviour and Improper Use of Government Materials and Manpower for Personal Enrichment. He was sentenced to two years imprisonment but was released after serving six months and cashiered from the Army. In 1950, he emigrated to Australia, presumably to try and make a fresh start but cut a sad figure wearing medals for campaigns he could not possibly have served in due to his serving his prison sentence and subsequent dismissal from the Army. Davies died in Australia in 1975, aged 74.

The Cathedral was struck again on the night of 16th/17th April 1941, this time by a bomb that exploded, when a 250 kg High Explosive device pierced the roof and exploded on the High Altar, which was destroyed but mercifully without loss of life. This damage although serious, was not irrepairable but without the actions of the St Pauls Watch and of Lieutenant Robert Davies and his team coping with the earlier incidents, it could all have been so much worse.

Published Sources:

Blitz - MJ Gaskin - Faber & Faber, 2005
The City Ablaze - David Johnson - William Kimber, 1980
The Times - London, September 15th 2010

Parallel Cities: The Second Great Fire of London, Bomber Harris and Operation Gomorrah

2011-02-26T19:56:00.000Z

This writer was lucky enough recently to pay a visit to Hamburg, the great Hanseatic port located on the River Elbe, the second largest city in Germany and the second largest port in Europe after Rotterdam. I’ve visited this city many times over the past twenty years or so and have often been struck by the many similarities between Hamburg and London. Some are perhaps not so evident these days now that many aspects of working London have been reduced to museum status but both cities have a thriving port, even though the main Port of London is located downriver at Tilbury and both cities are centres of transport, media, culture and sport

At the outbreak of the Second World War, the similarities were much more noticeable. Hamburg was known as ‘The English City’ due to the Hanseatic League’s trading connections with London going back to the Thirteenth Century. Both cities had been ravaged by fire in the past – London in 1666 and Hamburg no fewer than four times, in 1284, 1684, 1711 and 1713. Both cities rebuilt after these fires and seemed to grow stronger as a result consequently becoming amongst the wealthiest in Europe. Sadly, during the Second World War both cities were to suffer from further fires and especially in the case of Hamburg, would suffer catastrophic loss of life as a result. The picture above shows the Hafenbunker, one of Hamburg's surviving air raid shelters.

In 1940, London and many other towns and cities in the United Kingdom began to suffer from the onslaught of the Luftwaffe in what was quickly christened The Blitz. One of the heaviest raids on London was on Sunday 29th December 1940, when large parts of the City of London were destroyed in what was to become known as ‘The Second Great Fire of London’. Caused by a combination of a lack of Firewatchers due to the Christmas holiday period, the narrow streets and alleys of The Square Mile and an exceptionally low tide in the River Thames, this raid caused the huge fires started in Gresham Street, Moorgate, Queen Victoria Street and around St Paul’s Cathedral to join up and devastate vest swathes of the City, some areas of which were not fully rebuilt until the 1980s. Over three hundred incendiary bombs a minute were falling at times and the area around the Cathedral became the scene of the heaviest of the fires, causing Winston Churchill to instruct that Wren’s masterpiece was to be saved at all costs. This was achieved, somewhat against the odds in a story that we shall tell in a future article. Suffice to say, the survival of St Paul’s, with the help of Herbert Mason’s iconic photograph flashed around the World, seemed to personify British defiance against Nazi aggression.

It was also on this night when a senior RAF officer, who was as yet little known outside his own service, called Arthur Travers Harris stood on the roof of the Air Ministry in Holborn watching the fires raging with his service chief, Air Chief Marshall Charles Portal. As the two men silently gazed at the huge fires burning the heart out of the City of London, Harris suddenly felt vengeful and remarked quietly to Portal “They have sown the wind, now they shall reap the whirlwind.” Harris was a career airman and had made the study and practice of bombing his life’s work. He was one of those airmen who felt that future wars would be fought and won solely through the use of air power and that armies and navies would be rendered redundant through the use of air forces.

In February 1942, Harris was to get his chance of vengeance when he was appointed as Air Officer Commanding RAF Bomber Command. When he took over, the bomber arm of the RAF was at low ebb in its fortunes. Apart from some heroic attempts at raiding Wilhelmshaven, targets in the Ruhr and strikes against the gathering fleet of German invasion barges, all of which were achieved at high cost in casualties and with questionable accuracy, much of Bomber Command’s efforts had been spent in dropping leaflets on German cities, all of which left the personnel of Harris’s new command somewhat demoralised. Shortly before Harris’s appointment, the Air Ministry issued the Area Bombing Directive, which decreed that the focus of Bomber Command’s attention should be switched to undermining the morale of the German civil population, especially the industrial workers. As such, the cities of Cologne, Duisburg, Dusseldorf and Essen were allocated as priority targets with other cities such as Hamburg and Bremen being designated as secondary targets.

Harris built up his forces, replacing the obsolete Whitley and Hampden bombers with the new four engine Halifax and Lancaster aircraft, the latter of which was to become the mainstay of the RAF’s bomber force. On the night of 30th/31st May 1942, Harris took a major gamble when he committed the entire force of his command into the first ever thousand bomber raid, codenamed Operation Millennium, in which the city of Cologne was devastated. The huge numbers of aircraft attacking the city overwhelmed the defences and coupled with the element of surprise achieved, ensured that from a British viewpoint at least, the raid was an overwhelming success. Although the death toll was mercifully light – some 486 people were killed – the effect on the population gave the Nazi authorities food for thought. Out of a population of some 700,000 approximately 135,000 fled the city and some 45,000 were ‘bombed out’ of their houses. This was all achieved for the loss of 43 RAF bombers, some 3 percent of the bomber force. Ironically, Hamburg had had a close escape from destruction that night; it was the primary target for Operation Millennium and had only avoided the fate eventually meted out to Cologne by having the good fortune to be shrouded from the bombers by bad weather.

However, Hamburg’s good luck was not to continue as in 1943 Harris selected it for a series of raids prophetically called Operation Gomorrah. The object was to attack the city during the summer months, when the city would be tinder dry with the objective of starting uncontrollable fires with incendiary bombs whilst keeping the fire fighters at bay by dropping high explosive bombs simultaneously.

The first raid took place on the night of 24th July 1943 when 792 heavy bombers of RAF Bomber Command attacked the city. Some of the RAF bombers dropped propaganda leaflets on other German towns and cities along the way. These leaflets mocked Hitler’s own bombast by stating ‘Die Festung Europa hat kein Dach’ which translated means ‘Fortress Europe has no roof’. This raid marked the first use of another of the RAF’s secret weapons; thin strips of aluminium foil, known as ‘Window’ were dropped from the bombers. Cut to the same length as the German radar wavelength, these strips caused the radar picture to be jammed with hundreds of false reflections, effectively blinding the defenders. Once the pathfinders dropped their Target Indicator (TI) flares over the western part of the city, there was an element of 'creepback' from the following waves and the bombs seemed to fall in four main areas of the city; near Grasbrook, in Wandsbeker Chausee, Hasselbrook and in the Altona area. The destruction was bad enough but although the city centre had been spared, worse, much worse was to come.

On the 25th July, the Americans joined the party with the USAAF taking part in a daylight raid, which fell mainly on the Neuhof area around the power station, the MAN engine works and the Blohm & Voss and Howaldswerfte shipyards. On the 26^th July the Americans again bombed in daylight and to ensure that the populace stayed in a constant state of tension, the RAF staged 'nuisance' raids on both of these nights with small numbers of Mosquito aircraft which kept the citizens of Hamburg awake even though the number of bombs dropped in these raids was miniscule.

Hamburg was by now a city in a state of shock; the daylight raids especially had shaken the populace and the first night raid had seemed to be bigger than anything they had ever thought possible. They had never seen an enemy air raid in daylight since the war began and some began to think privately that perhaps their enemies were stronger than Dr Goebbel's propaganda had led them to believe. By the 27th July 1943, some of the fires started by the earlier raids were still burning but concern for Hamburg’s fire fighters was not on Harris's agenda and at 2340, the sirens sounded again.

During this raid some 787 RAF bombers attacked the city and this time, the weather and visibility was perfect for the attackers. The first Pathfinders dropped their TI flares over the eastern suburb of Hammerbrook and unlike the first raid, when the second wave of Pathfinders arrived they dropped their flares over the same location. This meant that the raid would be unusually concentrated and when the main force arrived, they dropped their bombs - some 2,300 tons of them – inside just fifty minutes. On the ground, the devastation and death was appalling; the fires were spreading out of control into the district of Hamm and the masses of individual fires were joining up into one huge conflagration. It was London all over again but on a much larger and altogether more terrifying scale. The firestorm had begun.

A firestorm occurs when a fire becomes so large that it sucks in air from all around and generates its own winds and energy. It becomes almost a living thing and when unchecked, can move at a frighteningly fast pace and can reach temperatures of as much as 800 degrees Celsius. In Hamburg on the night of 27th/28th July 1943, the fires were reaching staggering proportions, so much so that even the crews of the attacking bombers could smell the smoke and stench of burning flesh at 17,000 feet. On the ground, asphalt roads spontaneously combusted, fuel from ruptured oil tanks and from damaged ships spilled onto the surface of the River Elbe and the many waterways and also caught fire; people were suffocated inside seemingly safe air raid shelters and perhaps most horrifically of all, people who remained on the streets were swept off their feet by the huge winds generated by the firestorm and sucked into the flames. Operation Gomorrah had been named a little too accurately.

Following this appalling loss of life, the authorities ordered an evacuation of the city and some one million people tried to leave the city, although with the rail network shattered and many of the roads reduced to ruins, this was easier said than done. Coupled to this, the bombing still wasn’t over – another nuisance raid on the night of the 28th July kept people in a state of panic and the following night, 777 bombers of the RAF started a second firestorm in the suburb of Barmbek and wreaked further damage over the already shattered city. A final raid on the night of 2nd/3rd August was disrupted by a mixture of high winds over the North Sea and a huge thunderstorm raging over Hamburg itself. Mercifully for those remaining in the city, few bombs fell and when the battered RAF force returned to their bases, the operation was at last brought to an end.

Operation Gomorrah had caused the deaths of some 45,000 Germans, mainly civilians and left some 37,500 wounded. Somewhere in the region of a million people had fled the city. The RAF and USAAF had deployed in the region of 3,000 aircraft with a loss of some 118 with their crews killed or captured for the most part.

Perhaps it should also be mentioned that the Neuengamme Concentration Camp was located in the Bergedorf district of the City of Hamburg and was responsible for the deaths of something in the region of 55,000 of its inmates during the war.

To put matters further into perspective, we should remember a visit to London in late 1945 by a senior officer of the Hamburg Fire Brigade. He was shown around the bombed out areas of the City of London by Cyril Demarne, a senior London Fire Brigade officer. As he was being shown the pulverised areas beyond Aldersgate Street (the site of today’s Barbican Estate) to the wastes of Paternoster Row, the German fireman showed no signs of emotion. When finally they arrived at St Paul’s at the end of their tour, he asked Demarne: “Is this the worst?” When Demarne replied that the area he had shown him was as bad as anything in London, the German official simply replied “But it is nothing.” At first, Demarne had some reservations about that comment but a subsequent return visit to Hamburg revealed that the German fire chief had not been exaggerating.

It is a sobering thought indeed to reflect that during the entire six years of the war, London lost 30,000 civilians due to enemy air attacks. Hamburg lost half as many again in eight days, most of them during the firestorm night of 27th/28th July 1943. The Germans had indeed reaped the whirlwind on the most horrendous possible scale and as always in modern warfare, it was the civilians who had suffered the most.

Never forget, never again.

Published Sources:

Bomber Boys - Patrick Bishop, Harper Press 2007
Bomber Harris, His Life & Times - Henry Probert, Greenhill Press 2001
Inferno, The Devastation of Hamburg 1943 - Keith Lowe, Viking 2007
The London Blitz: A Fireman's Tale - Cyril Demarne OBE - After The Battle 1991

Liquid History, HMS Arethusa, and the London Fire Brigade at Dunkirk

2011-02-13T17:04:00.000Z

The River Thames has always been one of the main arteries of London. In 1940, the Thames was home to far more commercial traffic than we can see today, with five great expanses of enclosed docks on the north side of the river, the Surrey Commercial Docks to the south and all manner of wharves, power stations and the vast Woolwich Arsenal site strung out along either side of the tideway.

The Thames has always held a special place in the hearts of Londoners, who have used it for leisure, for work, for travel and have seen pageantry and tragedy unfold upon it in equal measure. It was described by the trade unionist and Labour MP John Burns as ‘Liquid History’ which is probably the most eloquent description of the river that has ever been penned.

Before the outbreak of war in 1939, the Germans had already begun aerial reconnaissance of likely targets along the river and today, we can still see these photographs which have been published under the somewhat distastefully named series Adolf Hitler’s Home Counties Holiday Snaps. Despite the trivialisation implied by this title, reconnaissance photography was a serious business which pre-war was often undertaken by concealed cameras aboard German civilian aircraft en route to or from London’s embryonic airports such as Heston and Croydon. In these photos, sites such as the Woolwich Arsenal, power stations, railways, docks and other potential targets were identified well before war was declared.

In those days before airborne radar sets and guidance beams, the best way for aircraft to find a target was to follow easily identifiable landmarks such as rivers and railway lines. London of course, has no shortage of the latter and the River Thames was and is an un-disguisable pathway to the centre of the capital and all a potential enemy had to do was to follow the course of the river from the Estuary to the centre of London. Today’s flyers call this Visual Flight Rules or 'VFR' and by using this method, it was inevitable that the Luftwaffe would be able to find their target when the time came.

When, at 4.30 p.m. on Saturday September 7th 1940, the sirens sounded to mark what proved to be the beginning of the Blitz, it was the course of the Thames that the bombers followed before unloading their bombs on the Woolwich Arsenal, Silvertown, West Ham Power Station and the Surrey Docks, lighting huge conflagrations that acted as beacons for the second wave of bombers that came that night. This was to be that start of fifty seven consecutive nights bombing and even after a brief lull in early December the bombers would continue to return right the way through until the night of May 10th/11th 1941. The docks and industries along the Thames were invariably part of the targets being attacked and with an un-knowing nod as to what was to happen some three years hence, the Luftwaffe gave the London dock system the code name ‘Hamburg’ and one can only wonder whether the irony of this was not lost on the Germans when the Allied air forces unleashed havoc on the German port city some three years later.

In 1940, the British anti-aircraft defences, although enthusiastically manned and well led by General Sir Frederick Pile – who incidentally would remain in this role throughout the war – were proving fairly ineffective against the German onslaught. The guns at this time were sighted in London’s open spaces such as Hyde Park, Blackheath, Southwark Park, Wanstead Flats and many similar places but being without the advantage of radar guidance, the chance of hitting a relatively fast moving bomber at night with only the assistance of searchlights to pick out the target, was fairly remote. As the war progressed, their performance and equipment was to improve drastically but in 1940 the anti aircraft or 'Ack Ack' guns’ crews needed all the help they could get. So it was that in November 1940, the cruiser HMS Arethusa (pictured), that had been refitting at Sheerness following arduous service in the Norwegian Campaign and covering the evacuations from France was moved to the Lower Pool of London, close to Tower Bridge to augment London’s defences. Her impressive anti-aircraft armament of eight four inch guns plus smaller calibre two pounder ‘pom poms’ joined in the nightly barrage against the Luftwaffe and although it was questionable whether they actually hit anything, they did have the advantage of forcing the bombers to fly higher and also of boosting the morale of the civilian population, who always liked to hear the sound of the guns firing back, despite the fact that on the principle of 'what goes up must come down’ the shrapnel caused by the shells fired were just as likely to cause death and damage to Londoners and their property as the German bombs.

Her brief stay in London ended in early 1941 and HMS Arethusa went on to enjoy further distinguished wartime service in the Mediterranean Fleet, on the Malta Convoys and at Normandy on D-Day before being eventually scrapped in 1950.

The sterling work of the London Fire Brigade, the Auxiliary Fire Service and later the National Fire Service in fighting the fires of the Blitz is well known and whilst everyone is familiar with the land-based fire engines and fire fighters, perhaps less well known was the small armada of fire boats, or what were effectively floating fire engines. Many of these fire boats were converted tugs and barges, hastily pressed into service on the outbreak of war but amongst their number was the purpose built fire float (as the London Fire Brigade called her) Massey Shaw (pictured) which was named after Sir Eyre Massey Shaw, first head of the Metropolitan Fire Brigade, predecessor of the London Fire Brigade. Built in 1935 by J Samuel White’s Yard at Cowes on the Isle of Wight, Massey Shaw was designed to fight fires in peacetime along the vast expanses of London’s industrial riverside and was capable of pumping three thousand gallons of water per minute from each of her two Merryweather pumps. Now in 1940, she was fighting different kinds of fires – huge out of control timber fires in the Surrey Docks, exploding rum barrels that sent sheets of blazing spirits flying through the air, pepper fires, rubber fires, paint fires, the list was endless and the possibilities were unfortunately horrendous.

Perhaps the best personal account of events on the Thames on the night of 7th September 1940 was given by Sir Alan Herbert, in command of the Thames Auxiliary Patrol’s vessel Water Gypsy, which was coming downriver: “Half a mile or more of the Surrey shore was burning. The wind was westerly and the accumulated smoke and sparks of all the fires swept in a high wall across the river.” He pressed on into the clouds of smoke: “The scene was like a lake in Hell. Burning barges were drifting everywhere. We could hear the hiss and roar of the conflagrations, a formidable noise but we could not see it so dense was the smoke. Nor could we see the eastern shore.”

Not only did the Massey Shaw fight fires during the Blitz. She had already earned herself a battle honour in May 1940 when she joined in the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force from Dunkirk. Originally sent across with a volunteer crew to fight the fires in the port of Dunkirk, she had a scare on the voyage across the English Channel, when in poor visibility her large water monitor on the foredeck was mistaken for the gun of a German fast patrol boat by a British destroyer which almost opened fire on her before realising her true identity. Fire fighting in Dunkirk proved to be a non-starter as the inner harbour area was so blocked with sunken ships and rubble as to be impassable but instead of returning to England, the crew decided to assist with the evacuation. The bulk of her service came off the beaches at Bray Dunes and La Panne, where she ferried some five hundred men from the beaches out to the destroyers and larger vessels waiting in deeper water but when the time came for her to return to England, she brought twenty eight British soldiers back to Ramsgate on 2nd June before heading back up the Thames to resume her London Fire Brigade duties.

Not retired until 1971, the Massey Shaw is still in existence and is currently being restored to her former glory, ironically at the old South Dock of the Surrey Docks where she fought fires seventy years ago. When restored, she will be a living memorial to the Blitz and the Dunkirk Evacuation and will hopefully be able to once again attend the Dunkirk ‘Little Ships’ return to the French port.

Published Sources:

Backs to the Wall – Leonard Mosley, Weidenfeld & Nicolson 1971
B.E.F. Ships before, at and after Dunkirk – John de S Winser, World Ship Society 1999
Cruisers of The Royal & Commonwealth Navies – Douglas Morris, Maritime Books 1987
London’s Docks – John Pudney, Thames & Hudson 1975
The Thames on Fire – LM Bates, Terence Dalton 1985
Pillar of Fire, Dunkirk 1940 – Ronald Atkin, Sidgwick & Jackson 1990

The Corpo Aereo Italiano, The Blitz and The Vienna Boys Choir

2011-02-05T14:09:00.000Z

It is common knowledge that during the Battle of Britain and the Blitz, the RAF was pitted against the German Luftwaffe, it is perhaps not so widely known that the Italian Regia Aeronautica also participated in the Battle and the Blitz, albeit in a small way and unhappily for the Italians, with pretty disastrous results that typified their standing alongside their German allies.

Italy declared war on Britain and France on 11th June 1940. Up until that point, cynics especially in Germany felt that the Italian dictator Mussolini had been hedging his bets before committing himself to the war. However, with a German victory now apparently assured, he decided that he wanted to take his place alongside Hitler on the winning side and to take his share of the spoils, especially in the Mediterranean, in which he eyed British and French possessions such as Malta and Corsica with envious eyes and where he also saw the opportunity to capture the Suez Canal and thus have access to British colonies in Africa.

However, following RAF bombing raids on the Fiat and Caproni factories in Genoa, Turin and Milan, Mussolini became very keen to become involved in the Battle of Britain and exact a measure of revenge. In July 1940, he offered units of the Regia Aeronautica to Hermann Goering but was diplomatically refused. However, he was persistent and after several further requests, Goering eventually relented and in early October 1940, a force known as the Corpo Aereo Italiano, consisting of seventy five Fiat BR. 20 Cicogna (or Stork) bombers supported by CR. 42 Freccia (Arrow) biplane fighters and a few Fiat G. 50 monoplane fighters were despatched to their base at Melsbroek in the Brussels area.

Their introduction to their German allies was hardly auspicious, with eight of the bombers being damaged by heavy landings whilst arriving at their new base. The bombers were from 13 and 43 Stormo or Squadrons, whilst the fighters were from 56 Stormo. For administrative purposes, and to fit in with the overall German system, the Italian squadron names were changed to the German KG or Kampfgeschwaders 13 and 43 and JG or Jagdgeschwader 56 respectively.

Their first foray into action was hardly a rip-roaring success either. A raid against Harwich and Felixstowe on the night of 24th/25th October 1940 saw three of eighteen aircraft deployed lost through accidents and the majority of the others failed to find their targets. Their next outing - a daylight raid on Ramsgate - was slightly more successful in so far that no aircraft were shot down but of the fifteen bombers used on the raid, three were heavily damaged by flak and at least one aircraft bombed Deal in error, with the bombs falling on the Royal Marines Depot, killing five Marines and a private from the Kings Shropshire Light Infantry.

On 11th November 1940, the Regia Aeronautica saw its first major combat with the RAF during the Blitz. Ten bombers escorted by forty two CR. 42s, the G. 50s and also with some German Bf 109s assigned set off towards Harwich. The raid was soon aborted due to poor weather but before the attackers could return to base, Hurricanes of 17, 46 and 257 Squadrons attacked and brought down three bombers and three fighters. A further four bombers were destroyed in forced landings, as were two fighters. A further eight Italian fighters landed with repairable damage in exchange for two British fighters suffering from slight damage. As this raid took place only the day before the British carrier-borne attack on the Italian battle fleet at Taranto, Winston Churchill was later moved to write that "They might have found better employment defending their fleet at Taranto."

It was clear that the Italian aircraft, especially the biplane fighters with their top speed of 272 mph, were no match for the British Spitfires and Hurricanes which were nearly 100 mph faster. The German fighter pilots assigned to escort their allies were less than enthusiastic at the prospect of working with the Italians. The Germans were mostly combat hardened veterans used to flying the modern Bf 109 fighters which were on a par with the British Hurricanes and Spitfires, whilst their charges lumbered along at 267 mph in the case of the BR. 20 bombers with even the modern G.50 fighters only managing 293 mph.

Further small raids on Harwich and Ipswich followed but with no more success and on November 23rd, some of the biplane CR. 42s were attacked by Spitfires, with the predictable outcome of two being lost with more damaged with no British aircraft suffering damage in return.

In January 1941, the bombers were 'redeployed' - a diplomatic term for a retreat; the involvement of the Corpo Aereo Italiano had been an unmitigated disaster for the Italians. Their standing amongst their German allies, never particularly high, was already in decline and this situation was only to get worse in February 1941 following the capitulation of the 130,000 strong Tenth Army in North Africa to General Wavell's 30,000 strong Western Desert Force.

The Italian involvement in the Second World War was an unhappy one, with Mussolini's regime always being the junior partner to Hitler's Germany. Setback followed setback for the Fascist regime and in July 1943, following the Allied invasion of Sicily, King Victor Emmanuel dismissed Mussolini and appointed Marshal Badoglio in his place, who immediately sought an armistice with the Allies. When this was signed in September 1943, the Allies had toppled their first dictator and to add insult to injury, the Italians changed sides and declared war on Germany on October 13th.

In reality though, much of Italy remained under German control and the Italian campaign was one of the hardest fought of the entire war before the country was eventually liberated, with the final surrender of German forces in Italy only occurring on 2nd May 1945 - less than a week before the Allies were celebrating VE Day on 8th May 1945. On this very day, British troops crossed the Italian border into Austria and encountered a group of boys in the main square of the village of Hinterbichel. Some of these boys were dressed in Hitler Youth uniforms, whilst others were wearing leather shorts and traditional Austrian costume. The combat hardened British troops swung the machine guns of their armoured cars onto the boys, fearing a last ditch ambush as had been experienced elsewhere in their encounters with the Nazis. The boys, although understandably nervous, stood their ground and the British, seeing no concealed weapons held their fire. When the commander of the British armoured cars dismounted, the leader of the boys lifted his arms and the Vienna Boys Choir began to sing God Save the King. The Italian campaign was over.

Published Sources:

Last Days of The Reich - James Lucas, Arms & Armour Press 1986
The Battle of Britain - Richard Hough & Denis Richards, WW Norton 1989
The Battle of Britain - Richard Townshend Bickers, Salamander 1990
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood & Derek Dempster, Tri-Service Press 1990

What's in a name?

2011-01-29T15:14:00.000Z

Whilst researching a forthcoming item for this blog about Lord Dowding, the first head of RAF Fighter Command and one of the victors of the Battle of Britain, one could not help being reminded about his nickname in the RAF, which was 'Stuffy' on account of his somewhat aloof nature. This nickname was somewhat misleading, as Dowding was simply a man who chose his words carefully and actually had quite a keen sense of humour for those that got to know him. Having been reminded of this nickname, it seemed a good time to lighten the atmosphere a little and investigate some of the others that seem to be a feature of the armed services.

The RAF of all the British services, seemed especially keen on nicknames, with the man known as 'The Father of the RAF' Sir Hugh Trenchard, later Baron Trenchard having the epithet 'Boom' attached to him at an early age on account of his extremely loud and deep voice. Many other RAF personnel over the years attracted nicknames by which they became sometimes better known than by their real names, such as 'Cat Eye's' Cunningham, the celebrated night fighter pilot, 'Tin Legs' Bader, the legless fighter ace and 'Bomber' Harris to name but three.

Cunningham's story is of particular interest as his success was explained to the British public as being the result of a diet consisting largely of carrots to improve his night vision. The reason for this duping of the public was due to the need to keep secret the fact that his Beaufighter aircraft, along with those of his fellow night fighter pilots was fitted with Airborne Interception or 'AI' radar - the first type to be successfully fitted into an aeroplane - and which needed to kept top secret at all costs. Cunningham finished the war with twenty 'kills' to his credit before becoming a renowned test pilot post war until his retirement in 1978.

Sir Arthur Harris, the head of RAF Bomber Command and to this day a somewhat controversial figure in some quarters, was christened 'Bomber' at an early stage in his RAF career due to his dedication to the cause of area bombing but was also known to his men as 'Butch' or 'Butcher' on account of his seeming indifference to the casualties caused by his tactics. Despite this nickname, he was on the whole well liked by his 'Old Lags' as he called them, who felt that their chief defended their corner well by not wasting their lives unnecessarily and also when dealing with his political masters.

Douglas Bader's story is the stuff of legend which is well known to even those with only a passing interest in history. Having joined the RAF in 1928, he was invalided out in 1933 following a horrific accident in 1931 whilst 'showing off' (to use his own phrase) in performing aerobatics. Although he recovered and adapted to his false legs sufficiently to enable himself to resume flying, his RAF career was seemingly over until the outbreak of war in 1939 ensured that after some relentless hectoring of those in charge of recruitment, he was allowed to resume his service with the RAF, becoming one of the services 'ace' pilots before being shot down over France in August 1941. He proved himself a thorough nuisance to the Germans as a prisoner of war and ended up being consigned to Colditz Castle for the duration.

The RAF didn't have a monopoly on nicknames, indeed neither did the British services, with the Americans and Germans also proving adept at issuing them to all and sundry.

British General William Gott, who was originally earmarked for the Eighth Army command subsequently made famous by Bernard Montgomery, was nicknamed 'Strafer' on account of a German propaganda poster with the caption 'Gott strafe England.' Gott was a very able general and had already made a name for himself as one for the future when he was appointed to command the British Eighth Army in succession to General Claude Auchinleck - himself the owner of the nickname 'The Auk' - when he was killed in an aeroplane crash, leaving the position to be filled by General Bernard Montgomery - 'Monty' - who quickly attained legendary status due to a combination of his undoubted ability but also his conceited nature and talent for self-publicity.

Admiral Andrew Browne Cunningham, arguably Britain's greatest fighting admiral since Lord Nelson had the nickname of 'ABC' which was a simple play on his initials. Born in 1883, he was a distinguished destroyer commander during The Great War and for much of the early inter-war years, before rising through the higher echelons of the Royal Navy to become Commander in Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet in June 1939. This was a position he regarded as the finest job on offer in the Royal Navy and flying his flag in HMS Warspite, he quickly made the job his own. He commanded the fleet at the Battle of Taranto, when the Italian battlefleet was destroyed by the venerable Swordfish biplanes inside their own naval base - an operation that the Japanese noted with great interest as a precursor to their similar attack on Pearl Harbour - before commanding the fleet in the night action off Cape Matapan in which the Italians were once again routed. He was in command for the evacuation of Crete when despite fearful losses, 16,500 out of a force of 22,000 men were rescued. It was during this operation, when ships were being sunk at an alarming rate that Cunningham famously stated "It takes the Navy three years to build a ship, it would take three hundred to build a new tradition. The evacuation will continue."

Amongst the Americans, perhaps the most bitter nickname was given to General Douglas MacArthur - to the public, perhaps a heroic figure, known for his defiant statement when leaving the Phillipines "I shall return" - but known to his men in that campaign as 'Dugout Doug' for his perceived tendency to remaining in his headquarters inside a network of tunnels in the Bataan area. Like his British counterpart Montgomery, MacArthur was another self-publicist but despite this, he was undoubtedly a great man and a great general who served his country and the Allied cause well.

On the German side, Luftwaffe General Albert Kesselring was known as 'Smiling Albert' to his men and was a popular figure amongst them, being a good-natured and generally cheerful person, which is not something one usually associates with German generals of the era. During the Battle of Britain, Kesselring commanded Luftflotte (literally Air Fleet) 2 and under the overall command of Hermann Goering, received a beating at the hands of 'Stuffy' Dowding and Keith Park of RAF Fighter Command. Still in command of Luftflotte 2 during the invasion of the Soviet Union, he enjoyed greater success and in November 1941, he was moved to the post of Commander in Chief South, as a sort of supreme commander of all air, land and sea forces in that theatre. He proved to be a formidable defensive commander and made the Allies fight hard for every inch of ground during that campaign. Captured by the Americans in May 1945, he was handed over to the British and charged with war crimes in connection with the use of Jews as slave labour in Italy also with the shooting of Italian civilians in the Ardeatine Massacre. Tried in Venice in 1947 by a British Military Court, he was found guilty and sentenced to death. However, this verdict unleashed a storm of protest, with no less a figure than Winston Churchill, then in opposition, intervening to secure a less harsh verdict. Kesselring's old opponent in Italy, Earl Alexander of Tunis also felt that this sentence was too vindictive, stating that Kesselring had always 'fought cleanly' against the Allies. The sentence was duly commuted to life imprisonment but he was released from prison in 1952 suffering from throat cancer and died in 1960 at the age of 74.

Finally, it wasn't just people that were given nicknames during the war. Inanimate objects were also given nicknames, such as the V-1 Flying Bomb. Its official name was the Vergeltungswaffe Ein - or Vengeance Weapon One - but this name was never going to catch on with the British public, who to be fair were probably never even aware of the German version of the name. To them, the V-1 was simply the 'Doodlebug', the 'Buzz Bomb', the 'Robot' or to ruder citizens, the 'Farting Fury' on account of the rasping sound made by the pulse-jet engine. We will take a look at these weapons in greater detail during a future article but fired from fixed ramp sites in the Pas de Calais area, these early cruise missiles were one of the weapons on which Hitler pinned his hopes of turning the tide of the war back in his favour when all seemed lost. Fortunately for the rest of the World, these weapons together with the V-2 and the new jet powered aircraft being developed were too late to alter the outcome of the war.

Simple Air Raid Shelters too, were given nicknames. The British public shelters, built of brick with pre-cast concrete roofs, were known as 'Morrison Sandwiches' after Herbert Morrison, Home Secretary of the wartime Coalition Government who was responsible for Civil Defence matters. The name was a grim reminder of these hurriedly built structures' propensity to collapse at the merest hint of the blast of a near miss. The bread of the sandwich was the concrete floor and roof with the meat in the sandwich being provided by the unfortunate occupants.

Even Army regiments had nicknames, sometimes a play on the initials of the regiment concerned. Thus, the 51st Highland Division who had a habit of leaving their 'HD' cypher wherever they had passed, became known as the 'Highway Decorators' whilst the Inns of Court Regiment, a Territorial Army regiment formed from members of the legal profession was known as the 'Devil's Own', which was reputedly the name given to them by King George III when the regiment was reformed in 1797 and who had a dislike for lawyers!

Here then we have seen some examples of the nicknames used during the Second World War for people, objects and regiments. There are many others that space does not permit us to include in this article but we shall return to the subject in a future entry.

Published Sources:

Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange, Grub Street 2008
Bomber Harris, His Life and Times - Henry Probert, Greenhill Books 2001
Masters and Commanders - Andrew Roberts, Allen Lane 2008
Engage the Enemy More Closely - Correlli Barnett, Hodder & Stoughton 1991

Unpublished Sources:

Author's family recollections

Sir Sydney Camm, the plane that won the Battle of Britain and the Jump Jet

2011-01-16T19:46:00.000Z

Sir Sydney Camm, to put it quite simply was a genius. Born in Windsor on August 4th 1893, he was involved as a youngster in the design of model aircraft and gliders before joining the H.G. Hawker Engineering Company and presiding over successive designs starting with fabric skinned biplanes such as the Hart, Hind and Fury, then seeing in the monoplane age with the first eight gun fighter in the form of the Hurricane and eventually war winning designs such as the Typhoon and the Tempest before being involved at the dawn of the jet age with the Hunter and finally being responsible for the truly ground breaking design that eventually became known as the Harrier, the World’s first practical vertical takeoff or landing (VTOL) aircraft or ‘jump jet.’

Camm started his career as a Carpenter’s Apprentice with the Martinside Aircraft Company and later joined Hawker’s at Kingston in 1923 as Senior Draughtsman and rose quickly to the position of Chief Designer two years later. In this role, he was responsible for the design of what were for the time, traditional designs of biplane aircraft. This type of aircraft, of which the Hawker Fury was to prove the last, were still being produced as late as 1937 and as good as these traditional designs were, it was apparent to those with foresight, of whom Camm was one, that these aircraft would be no match for the modern monoplane aircraft being produced in Germany for the resurgent Luftwaffe and which were now seeing service in the Spanish Civil War.

So it was in 1934 that Camm started work on the design of an eight gun monoplane fighter aeroplane to be built to Air Ministry specification F36/34 which was to be powered by the new Rolls Royce engine later to become known as the Merlin. In tandem with Reginald Mitchell at Supermarine and one or two other far sighted individuals, just in time, the British were waking up to the threat posed by the Nazis.

Unlike the more technologically advanced Spitfire, the Hurricane was an evolutionary design and the biplane ancestry was clearly apparent on closer inspection. Although it was quickly fitted with metal skinned wings capable of supporting the eight .303 machine guns, the fuselage was of a traditional design with steel spars supporting a fabric covering of linen tightened with dope. Ironically, although this design was outdated, it did mean that the Hurricane was able to withstand a tremendous amount of punishment and still be capable of relatively quick repair. Conversely, it did mean that whilst many bullets and cannon shells would pass through the fuselage without exploding, the aeroplane was also prone to catching fire when these shells hit the fuel tank and many Hurricane pilots in the Battle of Britain would suffer what became laconically known as ‘Hurricane Burns’ when their largely fabric covered aircraft caught fire. Sir Hugh Dowding, head of RAF Fighter Command, would insist on Hawker’s retrofitting the Hurricanes with self-sealing fuel tanks using a material called ‘Linatex’ which would drastically reduce these types of incidents and which a short-sighted Government (some things never change) had omitted from the original design on cost grounds at the expense of the lives of the men that flew them.

Whilst the Spitfire was the undoubted glamour puss of the RAF during and after the Battle of Britain and a wonderful far sighted design in its own right, the Hurricane at this time provided the backbone of Fighter Command with far more Hurricanes than Spitfires in service. In spite of being slower than its main antagonist, the Messerschmitt Bf109E, it could out-turn it, especially when dogfighting at lower altitudes and was responsible for many such ‘kills’ during the Battle, as well as bringing down many enemy bombers.

The only Victoria Cross won during the Battle of Britain - indeed the only VC won by a member of Fighter Command during the War - was won in a Hurricane, when on 16th August 1940 Flight Lieutenant James Brindley Nicolson, having seen his own aircraft hit and himself being wounded in an eye, remained in the blazing cockpit of his Hurricane in order to shoot down a Messerschmitt Bf110 over Southampton. Only once the enemy aircraft was destroyed did he bail out and to add insult to his terrible injuries, he was then fired upon by the local Home Guard despite his protests that he was an RAF fighter pilot. Nicolson survived this incident and wounds eventually healed, later served in Southeast Asia flying Beaufighters before tragically being killed on 2nd May 1945 when the Liberator aircraft in which he was travelling crashed into the Bay of Bengal following a mechanical failure.

After the Battle of Britain, the Hurricane made the transition into a cannon armed, ground attack fighter and served with great distinction in North Africa, Malta, Burma and the Far East as well as in the European theatre, where as well as fighting over occupied Western Europe, it also fought on the Eastern Front with the Soviet Air Force, having been supplied to the Russians under Lend Lease. The Hurricane also served at sea on the Royal Navy’s aircraft carriers as the Sea Hurricane as well as on CAM Ships (Catapult Armed Merchant ships) and as such was responsible for the defence of many convoys bringing vital supplies to Britain. In total, some 14,500 Hurricanes of all marks were constructed, mainly at Hawker’s factory in Kingston but also with a significant number being built in Canada.

With the RAF in Europe, the Hurricane was supplanted by two more of Camm’s Hawker designs, the Typhoon and the Tempest, both of which were instrumental in giving the Allies air supremacy over the Luftwaffe following the Normandy invasion and striking terror into the hearts of German land forces whenever the sound of their engines were heard overhead. The Tempest was for a time, the fastest piston engined aeroplane ever built, being capable of speeds well in excess of 450 mph. Apart from their ground attack duties, the Tempests were used on ‘anti diver’ patrols over Southern England in which they were responsible for shooting down large numbers of German V-1’s which would otherwise have wreaked havoc on London. Of the 9,500 V-1s launched against London, some 638 were shot down by a handful of Tempests, which was the largest number shot down by a single type of aircraft, although it should be mentioned that a further 1,316 were shot down by Mosquitos, Spitfires, Mustangs and with a nod to the future, the new jet powered Meteors.

The jet engine was clearly the way ahead and after the war was over, Camm turned his hand to the design of these sleek new fighters, with the Hunter being the favourite of many schoolboys (this writer included) and RAF fighter pilots and which formed the mainstay of the RAF’s fighter force in the late 1950s and early 1960s.

However, it was the Harrier that was arguably Camm’s most revolutionary design; able to take off from non-airfield locations such as motorways, this was the ideal aircraft for the nuclear age which was quickly embraced by the Americans and built by them under licence for the US Marine Corps as the AV8B. The Harrier in its carrier borne guise as the Sea Harrier also ensured British victory in the Falklands War and has only been recently retired by a short sighted, parsimonious government (where have we heard that before?)

Sydney Camm was knighted in 1953 for his services to the aircraft industry but never really retired and at the time of his death in 1966, was working on the design of an aircraft capable of travelling at Mach 4. It is indeed a sobering thought to consider that this man started working at Hawker’s only twenty years after the Wright Brothers pioneering powered flight. He was indeed a truly remarkable man.

Published Sources:

Dowding of Fighter Command - Vincent Orange, Grub Street 2008
Hurricane - Leo McInstry, John Murray 2010
The Big Show - Pierre Clostermann, Cassell 2004
The Most Dangerous Enemy - Stephen Bungay, Aurum Press 2000

Lord's at War

2011-01-08T15:08:00.000Z

With cricket in the news due to the victorious exploits of the England team in Australia, perhaps now is a good time to write about Lord's Cricket Ground in wartime, then as now headquarters of Marylebone Cricket Club (MCC), English cricket and surely the spiritual home of the World game, as this was and remains the ground at which every player around the World wants to play.

In 1939, this famous old ground had already been in existence since 1814 and was well established as the home of cricket. The domestic cricket season had already come to an abrupt end on 1st September 1939 - two days before the declaration of war - and the ground was becoming a hive of activity as many of the buildings on the adjoining Nursery Ground were requisitioned by the RAF. This part of the ground was to be used by 903 Squadron Balloon Barrage, part of London's defences against low flying enemy aircraft. At the opposite end of the ground, many of the buildings at the Pavilion End were used as the RAF's No. 1 Aircrew Reception Area, where many new recruits had their first taste of service life with many of them later making the ultimate sacrifice. Today a small unobtrusive bronze plaque on the pavilion records this fact. The ground was also used as Auxiliary Fire Station 11V of the AFS and the excellent Lord's Museum today contains some wonderful photographs of the usual collection of converted London taxis converted into makeshift fire engines parked at the perimeter of the playing area.

Although many test cricketers who had previously graced the hallowed turf such as the Middlesex players Bill Edrich, Jack Robertson and Denis and Leslie Compton as well as other England players like Len Hutton and Hedley Verity of Yorkshire had left their counties to join the fighting services, cricket at Lords still carried on, albeit in a reduced form and with a leaning towards inter service matches. These matches were of huge importance, not just for the morale of the public but also to demonstrate that whatever the Nazis could throw at Great Britain, cricket and cricketers could not and would not be intimidated in the face of tyranny.

One of these inter service matches was tinged with tragedy - a match between the Home Guards of Surrey and Sussex, held on July 23rd 1942 was abandoned when Andrew Ducat, the former Surrey & England cricketer (and England footballer) died at the crease from a heart attack whilst batting for the Surrey Home Guard. He had been retired from cricket since 1931 and was aged 56 at the time of his death. He had become a sports journalist and his tragic record remains that of being the only player in history to die during a match at Lord's.

To counterbalance the sadness of this event, in 1944 came another incident which showed both defiance and humour in equal measure. On July 29th 1944, the Army played the RAF in a representative match and whilst Middlesex and England batsman Jack Robertson was at the wicket batting for the Army, the unmistakeable sound of a V1 Flying Bomb could be heard approaching the ground. To make matters worse, the engine cut out and for a short time it looked as if the missile would land on the cricket ground. The players threw themselves to the turf, with one of them taking shelter behind the stumps! Fortunately for all concerned, the doodlebug fell harmlessly short of the ground in Albert Road, near Regent's Park. Starved of 'live' sport these matches were always well attended by Londoners and off duty service personnel and when play resumed, Jack Robertson hit the second ball after the re-start - a long hop from Bob Wyatt - for six. Not surprisingly, the crowd erupted at this show of defiance from the Middlesex and England opening batsman.

The famous ground was not always immune from damage. On October 16th 1940, at the height of the First Blitz, an Oil Bomb fell onto the outfield at the Nursery End near the sightscreens. When the bomb burst open, it revealed the photograph of a young German officer, across which was written the message 'With Compliments.' The only other direct damage sustained was when one of the houses owned by MCC, 6 Elm Tree Road, which adjoined the ground was destroyed by a direct hit also during 1940.

There were other incidents such as the time when one of the resident barrage balloons went out of control and wrapped it's cable around Old Father Time, bringing the iconic weather vane tumbling down from his lofty perch onto the seats of the Grand Stand. There was also an incident straight from the script of 'Dad's Army' when the local Home Guard was reported to the MCC Committee for using the garden of another of the Club's houses, this time at 2 Grove End Road, for 'bomb throwing practice.'

As the war went on, some of those illustrious names who had graced Lord's before the war made the ultimate sacrifice and were never to return. Kenneth Farnes, a fast bowler of Cambridge University and Essex had first played for England in 1934 but was still only 30 when his plane crashed on a night flying exercise in 1941.

Then, in July 1943 arguably the most famous English sportsman to fall in the Second World War, Hedley Verity of Yorkshire and England was killed whilst serving with the Army in Sicily. Aged 38, he was a Captain in the Green Howards and was leading his men in an assault on a German strongpoint when he was struck in the chest by mortar shell fragments. His men last saw him on the ground, his head being cradled by his batman and murmuring 'Keep going, keep going and get them out of that farmhouse.' He died a few days later on 31st July 1943 in an Italian POW Camp Hospital at Catania - his last words were said to have been 'I think I have played my last innings for Yorkshire.' An excellent off spinner, Verity had a special connection with Lord's, having taken 15 wickets against Australia in the 1934 Ashes test match at the ground, including 14 in one day and dismissing Don Bradman twice in the game, which incidentally was the only time in the 20th Century that England beat Australia in a Lord's test match.

In August 1944, Maurice Turnbull, who was a fine all round sportsman, captain of Glamorgan, an England cricketer and who had played rugby, hockey and squash for Wales, was killed instantly by a sniper's bullet at Montchamp in Normandy, aged 33 and with probably many more years of international cricket ahead of him after the war had fate not intervened.

In May 1945, when victory in Europe was won, the Secretary of MCC, Sir Pelham Warner arranged what became known as the five 'Victory Tests' - not test matches in the conventional sense - but three day matches, England v Australia, three of which were played at Lord's - the others were at Bramall Lane, Sheffield and at Old Trafford, Manchester. These matches were played in front of huge crowds who had been starved of cricket and who were treated to a festival of attacking, open cricket, played in a tremendous spirit. The series was drawn two matches each, with one drawn match and the exuberant play seemed to reflect the joy and relief that the players and spectators alike felt on emerging from the war into a hopeful peace. Cricket had survived and for those players who had served in the war, the game was put into perspective by the great Australian all-rounder Keith Miller, who had served on operations over Germany as a Mosquito pilot in the Royal Australian Air Force and who once when asked about the pressures of playing test cricket famously replied 'I'll tell you about pressure. Pressure is a Messerschmitt up your arse, playing cricket is not!'

Published Sources:

The Lost Seasons: Cricket in Wartime 1939-45 - Eric Midwinter, Methuen 1987
Double Century, The Story of MCC and Cricket - Tony Lewis, Guild Publishing 1987
Wisden at Lord's - edited by Graeme Wright - John Wisden & Co/MCC 2005

Dr Johnson's House and The Second Great Fire of London

2010-12-29T21:47:00.001Z

This week's guest blogger is Blitz historian and fellow Blitzwalker Neil Bright.

Christmas 1940 had passed without incident. However, Hitler had spent the Yuletide with his senior staff in Boulogne questioning why Britain had not come to the peace table following the Blitz on British cities, particularly London during the autumn and winter months of 1940.

The less than festive atmosphere in Boulogne prompted the now famous attack on the City of London carried out by aircraft of Luftflotte 3 and Luftflotte 2 which was to become known as the “Second Great Fire of London.” It is well documented that the Thames was subject to a neap tide and because of the Christmas break and with the attack being carried out on a weekend, there was a skeleton fire-watching staff across the capital.

Some 136 bombers were involved in the raid and approximately ten and a half thousand incendiary bombs rained down on the City in the opening of the attack and by the time the last bomb was dropped some one hundred fires were raging on both sides of the Thames. The wind was particularly high whipping sparks from building to building and temperatures of the fires reached 1,000 degrees. Fortunately bad weather made any further raiding that night impossible.

Many of the City’s famous and historic buildings were razed to the ground or severely damaged. Among the casualties were nine livery company halls including the Haberdashers, Coachmakers, Girdlers and Barbers Halls. Among the City churches, St Giles was gutted along with St Lawrence Jewry and St Alban Wood Street to name but a few. The historic Guildhall lost its Courtroom, the statues of Gog and Magog were lost along with some 25,000 books from the Library. The book industry around Paternoster Square was devastated.

One famous building which has a remarkable story to tell was Dr Johnson’s House in Gough Square. Dr Samuel Johnson was the renowned compiler of the famous dictionary as well as playwright, author and wit. Phyllis Rowell was the curator of the house, which had been restored and re-invigorated by the Harmsworth family some years before.

Mrs. Rowell opened the house as a rest centre for the Fire Services and as Harry Stone, one of the firefighters to benefit recalled, Mrs. Rowell “was never without a tea-pot in here hand, providing practical comfort to her local firemen.”

Musical evenings, concerts and readings were arranged. There was even a string quartet (pictured) formed by members of the service who had been members of the London Symphony Orchestra. On numerous occasions there was standing room only as the music of Dvorak and Mozart seeped into the rafters. The quartet even performed at 10 Downing Street, although their esteemed host nodded off during the performance. Celebrated poet and firefighter, Stephen Spender also gave a stirring talk on Scandinavian poets and the actor Felix Aylmer reminisced on his long career. One of the Fire Fighters, Edward Gathergood, even married Mrs. Rowell’s daughter, Betty.

Dr Johnson’s House had come through the Blitz unscathed until 29 December 1940. but now Phyllis Rowell recalled how “all Hell let loose around 6.15pm as incendiaries rained down.”

Their cottage next to the house received the first strikes of incendiary bombs just as her family was sitting down to dinner. Betty busied herself by climbing a ladder and pushing off the bombs with a broom, but many had lodged in unreachable places. Gough Square was now ablaze, but Dr Johnson’s House had not yet been hit.

The water main had been struck and it was apparent that the area had to be evacuated with the family being ordered to the Daily Mirror Shelter in Fetter Lane. The family collected up Dr Johnson’s letters from the house together with part of the china plus some personal effects.

The journey was fraught with danger as masonry and other debris was falling at a rapid rate, plus the air was full of sparks. To make matters worse, Mrs. Rowell’s mother had a mild heart attack during the hazardous journey.

A rumour went around that Dr Johnson’s house was in flames, but fortunately the firefighters had found a large water tank in the area from which water was transported in canvass tanks to Gough Square and a jet of water was directed on to the roof of the house and more water was relayed up the stairway into the attic. Oil from a nearby factory had earlier compounded the situation.

The damage was remarkably little; some paintings were water-damaged and some furniture was destroyed.

Further damage was sustained later in the War by flying bombs landing in the proximity and sadly the Firemens’ rest centre had to be closed down.

Today, the House is open Monday to Saturdays and it is very much worth a visit, with a very knowledgeable and friendly staff. There is also an excellent gift shop.

Published Sources:

The Blitz Then and Now Vol. 2 - editor Winston Ramsey, After the Battle 1988
Dr Johnson’s House and the National Fire Service during the War - Harry Stone
Dr Johnson’s House during the War - Phyllis Rowell

Oil painting by Reginald Mills by kind permission of Dr Johnson’s House

The Angel of Cable Street

2010-12-18T20:21:00.002Z

This week's blog is guest written by my fellow Blitzwalker, Neil Bright, who tells us about one of the heroines of the Blitz.

Barnet and Millie Billig were a young Orthodox Jewish couple who had escaped the Pogroms which occurred in Russia and other parts of Europe at the turn of the late 19th century and having fled to England, settled above a newsagent’s in Hanbury Street in London’s East End. Not long after their arrival the first of the couple’s children, Esther was born. There followed Levi, Hannah, David, Miriam and Rebecca. Two further children died at a very young age.

Barnet worked extremely hard to provide for his young family; initially as a Newsagent and later as a cigarette and a cigar maker. Barnet was keen that his children study hard and it was evident at an early age that the children were gifted. Barnet bought many books for his family and in no time the living room resembled a library. The Billig children were not allowed to play out in the street with the other children of the area but instead they were encouraged to read. Barnet’s insistence that the children diligently adhered to their books and studies paid off. Four of the children became doctors - Hannah, David, Miriam and Rebecca.

Hannah was born on 4 October 1901. In 1912 at the age of 11 she won a scholarship at Myrdle Road Central School. Her hard work at the school brought her a scholarship to London University. Following graduation she went on to the Royal Free Hospital where she qualified as a doctor in 1925. This type of profession for a woman was still very much scoffed at in the 1920s as it was thought to be a waste of time for a woman to put in a great deal of work only to give it up only to get married and have children. However Hannah was offered a position at the Jewish Maternity Hospital in Underwood Street.

After two years at the hospital, Hannah thought it was time to strike out on her own and she opened a small surgery at Watney Street in Shadwell, where her caring nature made her extremely popular with her patients. It must be remembered that there was no National Health Service in the 1920s and 1930s and therefore patients had to pay for treatment and medicines. Hannah treated everyone who came to her whether they could pay or not. She would often be seen riding around Wapping and Shadwell on her bicycle late into the evening to go and see housebound patients. Often she would pick up a prescription herself and ride back to the patient’s house with it.

She moved to a bigger surgery at 198 Cable Street in Shadwell in 1935 and about this time her rounds were also made easier by the purchase of a Morris Cowley. Hannah’s popularity increased as the years passed, particularly with children, who she would often take for a ride in her car when picking up prescriptions. In addition to her long surgery hours, which started early in the morning and finished often at 10 o’clock in the evening, she was on call as a Police Doctor.

As war broke out in 1939 Hannah became busier and busier. She was in charge of all the air-raid shelters in Wapping. Her bravery was unsurpassed as she would go out to tend her patients as the bombs were dropping.

Hannah was called out to tend to the injured at a blast at Orient Wharf in Wapping on 13 March 1941. As she was working another blast blew her off the steps of the shelter. As she tried to get up she realised that one of her ankles was badly injured. Unperturbed she bandaged it and carried on tending to the injured. She carried on for four hours until all of the injured were taken hospital. One further bomb only landed twenty yards from her. It was only later that it was discovered that the ankle was broken. For her bravery at Orient Wharf, Hannah was awarded the George Medal by King George VI. She was a local heroine and it was now the people of Wapping and Shadwell gave her the title of “The Angel of Cable Street.”

In 1942 Hannah joined the Indian Army Medical Corps with the rank of Captain. She spent much of the early part of her time in Assam treating the wounded and sick soldiers who had retreated following the Japanese Army’s advances in Burma. As well as wounds there were diseases such as Malaria and Typhoid to be dealt with. She didn’t only devote her time to the Army, but also to the local victims of the war and the multitude of refugees fleeing the conflict. One respite for Hannah was that she was able to meet up with brother David and sister Rebecca who were also both with the RAMC in India.

One of the tragedies caused by the war in this part of the world was a rice crop failure in 1944. The local farmers would sell their rice crops without keeping any back for themselves. The failure meant that the government had no reserve stock and the people starved. Hannah and her medical colleagues worked tirelessly with the many illnesses that the starvation brought

Hannah was awarded the MBE in the 1945 honours list. She wrote to the Palace explaining that she was too busy to come along and collect the award and asked that they post it to her.

Hannah returned to her practice in Cable Street in 1946. Times were still hard with rationing still in force. However the birth of the National Health Service in 1948 did bring some relief to the long-suffering poor of the country.

Hannah harboured no secret of her desire to retire to her spiritual home, Israel. Brother David had retired there and having bought a plot of land in Caesarea, Hannah retired there herself in 1964. This followed a farewell party for Hannah at the Bernhard Baron Settlement on 24 March 1964 and the presentation of a cheque to spend in her new country.

Once settled in Israel Hannah became restless and started work at the clinic at Baka-el-Garbiya near her home; treating Arabs and Jews alike. She worked on for another twenty years before ill health caught up with her. Hannah died peacefully in a retirement home on 11 July 1987. She is buried in Hadera Cemetery.

Published Sources:

Hannah Billig, The Angel of Cable Street, Rosemary Taylor - Privately Published 1996
British Medical Journal - Volume 295
Hackney Gazette - numerous issues
East London Advertiser - numerous issues

A Wander Through Wartime London

2010-12-10T20:10:00.000Z

If we may be allowed another shameless piece of self promotion, a new book in which the Blitzwalkers have had a considerable interest - one of us as co-author and the other as a researcher - has finally appeared just in time for Christmas.

'A Wander Through Wartime London' is published by Pen & Sword and describes a series of five walks through various parts of London and is extensively illustrated as well as containing much other back-up information such as maps and casualty lists.

Some of the routes featured in the books are slightly different versions of the walks that Blitzwalkers offer to our clients and readers will hopefully have their appetites whetted for a guided walk with one of us.

The book is available from Pen & Sword's own website, as well as other outlets such as Amazon and is well recommended even if we say so ourselves!

Heroes with Grimy Faces

2010-12-05T14:18:00.000Z

This was the name given by Winston Churchill to Britain's firefighters during the Second World War and although the Prime Minister was quick to recognise the contribution made by the Fire Services, it was not always the case with the public at large and when the Auxiliary Fire Service or AFS was formed in 1938 at the time of the Munich Crisis, there were many who dubbed volunteers for the AFS as "£3 a week Army Dodgers" for those who volunteered to join the AFS were exempted from the call-up to the fighting services and were paid the princely sum of £3 a week for their troubles. Whilst it was true that some people did join the AFS in order to avoid military service, the vast majority who served in the AFS did so because they wanted to save lives and 'do their bit' towards the war effort. There was also a certain amount of hostility aimed at the AFS from members of the regular municipally controlled fire brigades, who viewed these volunteers as well meaning amateurs despite the high standard of training they received from those same regulars who viewed them with some disdain. Neither was the AFS a male only concern, as there were many women members who were mainly employed on Fire Watching, Driving and Telephonist duties.

The cynicism from the general public aimed towards not only the AFS but at the Civil Defence Services in general continued beyond the Munich Crisis in 1938 and indeed the outbreak of war in September 1939 right through the Phoney War period and up until the start of the Blitz in September 1940, when perhaps not surprisingly, attitudes changed almost overnight. The AFS volunteers performed heroically, especially when one considers that the vast majority of them had never faced a 'real' fire, let alone the conflagrations unleashed by the German incendiaries, for which no amount of training could have prepared them. Any friction between the regulars and the AFS evaporated quickly as a result and the regular Fire Brigades and Auxiliaries worked happily side by side.

The main raison d'etre of the AFS, as well as supplementing the regular fire brigades was to act as a sort of mobile reserve which could be deployed from city to city to augment the fire services in times of great need. Unfortunately, the wheels fell off this particular plan very early in the Blitz - on the first day in fact, when the AFS volunteers brought in from Ipswich to tackle the enormous fires raging at the Surrey Commercial Docks in South London discovered that their hydrant connections were all of differing sizes and certainly of no use to the London firemen already struggling in vain to keep these huge fires under control. There were also petty arguments between the various local authorities who controlled the country's fire services. which sometimes prevented the rapid movement of the AFS volunteers from one municipality to another. Clearly, co-ordinated action was required, not only to ensure commonality of equipment but also to ensure that the petty jealousies were overcome.

Thus, on August 18th 1941 the 1,400 separate fire services in Britain were nationalised and a new body, the National Fire Service or NFS was formed in their place. This new body quickly set about tackling the problems caused by the differences in organisation and equipment thrown up by the huge number of former municipal brigades. There were some frictions at first as old habits died hard but it was quickly realised that the nationalisation was for the greater good and the new NFS under the command of the former head of the London Fire Brigade, Sir Aylmer Firebrace, was soon to prove itself more than equal to the challenges thrown up by the Baedeker Raids of 1942-3 and the Little Blitz of 1943-4 as well as the greater problems caused by the V-1s and V-2s of 1944 and 1945.

After the War, the NFS was eventually disbanded in 1948 and the regional fire brigades were taken back under municipal control. However, the standardised procedures and equipment remained in place and thus it is fair to say that the National Fire Service formed the template for today's modern fire services that we all take for granted in their efficiency and dedication to duty.

In London alone, over 400 firefighters both men and women were killed and today the charity Firemen Remembered strives to keep alive the memory of the wartime fire services in London both by placing memorial plaques such as the one pictured, at locations where firefighters gave their lives, which in the case of many AFS members were at the requisitioned schools that were often used as Auxiliary Fire Stations and also by means of an education programme in which talks are given to schools to ensure that the deeds of these men and women are never forgotten. The National Firefighters Memorial, opposite St Paul's Cathedral was originally commissioned in 1991 following a campaign led by Cyril Demarne OBE, a former senior officer in the NFS and later the London Fire Brigade. Originally designed solely as a tribute to those London firefighters who gave their lives during the Blitz, in 2003 the monument was expanded into a national memorial with the names of a further 1,192 firefighters from across the country who have died in both peace and war being added. Today, this memorial with its evocative image of three firefighters tackling the fires of the City of London and also protecting the Cathedral serves as a lasting and fitting memorial to those men and women of the country's fire brigades who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Published Sources:

London at War - Philip Ziegler, Sinclair Stevenson 1995
The London Blitz, A Fireman's Tale - Cyril Demarne OBE, After The Battle 1991
Firemen Remembered Official Website - www.firemenremembered.co.uk

London Transport Carried On

2010-11-28T15:42:00.000Z

The current cold snap that we are experiencing brings to mind last year's snow which paralysed public transport in London and led to hysterical headlines in some of the tabloids that a few centimetres of snow had achieved what Hermann Goering had failed to do in 1940 - i.e. to stop London's buses!

Taking aside the usual hysteria associated with certain parts of the tabloid press, on this occasion they did have a point, because during the entire period of the Blitz, the Luftwaffe never managed to completely stop London's transport system, although naturally on occasions severe dislocation and disruption did take place.

In 1940, public transport in London was administered and operated by London Transport, a nationalised body responsible for London's buses, tubes, trams and trolleybuses. The suburban railways were run by the so called 'Big Four' railway companies - the Southern, Great Western, London Midland & Scottish and London and Northeastern Railway Companies - although in wartime they were effectively nationalised under the Railway Executive Committee's aegis. For the purposes of this article, we shall concentrate on the services operated by London Transport and how they were affected by enemy action and how they rose to the challenges posed by the war.

The first precautions taken actually came during the Munich Crisis of 1938 when minds were quickly concentrated by the prospect of war and the danger posed by enemy bombing. It was quickly realised that the tube tunnels under the River Thames were vulnerable to bombs and that a single lucky hit on any one of these tunnels could flood half of the Underground system. As a result of this realisation, a network of flood gates was designed and installed at all of the strategically placed tunnels under the Thames and were in place in time for the commencement of the Blitz in September 1940. These gates could be operated manually from each of the actual locations but were more normally controlled from a Central Control Room at Leicester Square Station, from where it was also possible to monitor the state of the tides so that it was not always necessary to close all of the gates when an alert sounded. When the gates were closed during an alert, signals were automatically changed to danger to stop trains being trapped and a replacement bus service was operated wherever possible to link the cross river sections closed off. During the entire war, only one of the under river tunnels was breached by a German bomb and this was a disused tunnel on the Hampstead Branch of the Northern Line at Charing Cross. Fortunately, nothing had been left to chance and this particular tunnel had been sealed with concrete before war was declared.

Despite their depth, even the tubes were not invulnerable to bombing and we have covered the use of London's Tube stations as shelters within a previous article on this blog but suffice to say that Bank, Balham, Bounds Green, Moorgate and Sloane Square Stations were severely damaged with serious loss of life. On many other occasions, stations were near missed and lines were blocked but despite the damage and loss of life, services were always restored, sometimes within hours, sometimes within weeks but even in these extreme cases, alternatives were always available and disruption was kept to a minimum.

All of this seems improbable in today's health and safety obsessed culture, when even a light snowfall can cause all of London's buses to be taken off the road, so perhaps it seems even more improbable to observers seventy years on to note that during Air Raid alerts in 1940, it was left to the bus or tram driver's discretion whether to carry on or not. What would normally happen when the Alert sounded was that the driver would give his passengers the opportunity to disembark but would then normally continue unless the bombing became very adjacent, at which time he would stop at the nearest public shelter to disgorge his passengers until the bombers had passed. Occasionally though, the drivers would heroically press on regardless of the bombing and one of these occasions was reported by Stan Collins, a tram driver who recounted his experiences in his book 'The Wheels Used to Talk To Us.'

"We were at Kennington on the 18s when bang went the sirens, so I stopped the tram and turned around and said 'Ladies and Gentlemen, the sirens are going. Anyone who wants to go down the shelter, there's one just up the road.' One old boy asked me if I was going down the shelter. 'I am not,' I said, 'I am going to fight my way home.' 'Good, the driver's going on, the driver's going on.' he told everyone. He was ever so excited, just like a little schoolboy. Nobody got off, so we tootled along Brixton Road, dropping them off, dropping them off. When I stopped at the bottom of Brixton Hill, the old chap asked me if he could get out of the front door. He wasn't supposed to in the blackout but the tram was still full and he couldn't get through the back, so I opened the air door and let him off the at the front. Just as he's getting off he puts a pound in my hand and says 'There you are driver, this is for a drink and thank you for getting me home.' When we were reversing at the end of the journey, I told Alf (my conductor) and gave him half but Alf told me that the old chap had run around the back and given him a pound as well. They used to be pleased to get home."

Despite this effort, Collins also recounted another occasion when things didn't go quite so smoothly when he was driving a tram during another air raid in the Battersea and Clapham areas.

"I took it very steady. I'd got the wind up, little butterflies in my stomach and very gently we came around the curve (into Cedars Road.) We took it very gently up Cedars Road in case the switches blew out and onto the level. I said to old Alf, 'Thats it, we're in the clear now' but halfway along Long Road, we came up behind a string of trams, about ten of them, right upto Clapham, so we were stuck. There was nothing we could do, we couldn't go back, we'd have to see it out. I could have cried. Anyway, we walked along this line of trams but couldn't see any drivers or conductors until we came to the cafe at the Plough which was open all night. By then it was getting on for 2 a.m. and we were stuck there until the All Clear went at about 5 a.m. that morning."

There were countless similar stories both above and below ground level, some heroic and some more mundane but all of them showed London Transport's workers, both male and female to be truly dedicated towards helping keeping London moving despite the worst that could be thrown at them. London Transport truly carried on.

Published Sources:

London Transport at War 1939-45 - Charles Graves, Almark Publishing 1974
The Wheels Used to Talk To Us - Stan Collins and Terence Cooper, Tallis Publishing 1977
Routes to Recovery - Ken Glazier, Capital Transport, 2000

Another shameless plug................

2010-10-22T17:11:00.000+01:00

Being (hopefully) temporarily unemployed does have its advantages sometimes. For the past four or five weeks, this writer has been making almost daily pilgrimages to the excellent Greenwich Heritage Centre down at the old Royal Arsenal site in Woolwich and has been busily transcribing the Civil Defence Incident Logs from the old Metropolitan Borough of Woolwich into a spreadsheet format. This has been quite an arduous task as many of the documents were still in their original files and folders complete with seventy year old rusty staples holding them together. A start had been made at removing these and placing the message slips into the correct plastic archive sleeves but the previous incumbant had lost the will to live and given up with a box full of files still to be completed.

This Blitzwalker bravely took on the task of completing the job and now the job is done, it can be reported that these particular files are now once again available for inspection by the public having all been properly catalogued. In addition to this, as touched upon earlier, this information has also been transcribed onto a spreadsheet format to join the Incident Logs that the Blitzwalkers now have in their archives.

This means we now have access to the Civil Defence Logs for the following London Metropolitan and County Boroughs and are able to research with ease any incidents in these boroughs:

Bermondsey
Camberwell
Chelsea
Greenwich
Poplar
Romford
St Marylebone
Stoke Newington
Southwark
Westminster
Woolwich

As there were 28 Metropolitan Boroughs in London plus the adjacent Municipal and County Boroughs, it means that we still have a fair amount of work to do before but we are getting there. Unfortunately, not all of today's London Boroughs who succeeded the old boroughs in 1965 have kept their Second World War Civil Defence records but we will try and get as many of them as possible transcribed over the coming months and years - it isn't a five minute job though!