A George Medal Hero in Charlton

During the lockdown forced upon us by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, I passed the time by writing up and producing a series of "virtual" Blitz Walks on Twitter, one of which covered my own local area of Charlton in Southeast London. One of the stories that came out at the time was that of Albert William Brittan, of the Greenwich Rescue Service, who was awarded a George Medal for his bravery in releasing victims trapped in a bombed house in Charlton Lane on 8 December 1940.

I had previously searched for a photograph of Albert at the National Archives and online but to no avail but was delighted recently when I chanced upon an edition of The Antiques Roadshow on BBC Television - not a programme I regularly watch - and saw an image of him appear, together with his medals, courtesy of his daughter who proudly told his story. As a result of this, I was able to take a screengrab of the photograph and can now tell his story a little more fully.

To begin with, we need to find out a little more about our hero; Albert William Brittan was born in 1904 to Amy Brittan (nee James) and her husband Joseph Brittan, a demolition worker. They lived at the family home in 41 Hamilton Street, Deptford. It was a large family, with Albert being one of five sons and with two sisters also living at home. Albert doesn't feature on the 1939 Register at that address, as he had married Emma Rose Roberts in 1929 and somehow seems to have slipped under the radar when the census was taken but three of the family are still at Hamilton Street; parents Joseph and Amy together with one of Albert's younger brothers, Sidney who is also listed as a demolition worker. This was obviously a family concern, for Albert's medal citation also shows this as his civilian occupation.

Albert William Brittan (centre) (screengrab from BBC Antiques Roadshow)

On the night of 8/9 December 1940, at approximately 02:40 close to where a level crossing takes the railway line from Woolwich Dockyard towards Charlton Station, two high explosive bombs fell on a terrace of houses located at 19/27 Charlton Lane. The incident log records "PEOPLE TRAPPED, 4 FATAL CASUALTIES, 6 TO HOSPITAL, 16 TO FIRST AID POST". 

It has to be remembered that this rather cold description was written in the heat of the moment, as were all such incident logs and is in fact, inaccurate in so far as five people lost their lives in this incident.

Albert Brittan's George Medal citation (author's image)

Shortly after the bomb fell, local Air Raid Wardens would have ascertained that persons were trapped in the ruins and it wasn't long before the Rescue Squad, under the command of 36-year-old Albert Brittan arrived on the scene. By this time, Albert was recorded as living at 14 Oxenham House, Benbow Street, Greenwich and had joined the Rescue Service soon after the outbreak of war. His experience as a demolition worker would no doubt have been of great benefit, given his knowledge of the construction of buildings.

On arrival at the scene, Brittan was informed that five people were trapped in the ruins of number 25 and soon worked out that they were trapped in the remains of the kitchen. He quickly set his squad to clearing as much of the debris as was safely possible and then entered the building himself. He was soon able to rescue a baby and after passing the infant to his colleagues, he went back into the ruins and after moving a door and beams obstructing his passage, he was able to rescue the baby's mother and carried her out of the building. Returning inside, he next freed a young girl and also recovered the body of an elderly lady. Shortly after re-entering the building yet again, the roof partially collapsed and almost trapped Albert but he persisted in his work, all the time whilst other bombs were falling and anti-aircraft shell fragments were falling in the vicinity.

After some five hours in the ruined house, he was finally able to rescue the final trapped person, a man who had been pinned down by floor joists. Once he rescued him, only then was Brittan satisfied that all of the occupants had been rescued. His hands were cut and bleeding and needed to be dressed by a doctor from a nearby First Aid Post, who happened to be Dr John Montgomery, Club Doctor of  Charlton Athletic Football Club, as well as being the Company Doctor at Siemen's (a large local employer at that time) and a future director at The Valley. Montgomery was one of the witnesses to Albert Brittan's recommendation for an award and was well qualified to do this, having no doubt witnessed his efforts at first-hand. 

Recommendation for Albert Brittan's award (author's image)

In total, thanks to the efforts of Albert Brittan and the other members of his Rescue Squad, seven of the twelve people they rescued between them came out alive and all subsequently survived. The five that lost their lives are listed at the bottom of the article.

Dr John Montgomery (centre in wing collar) (Charlton Athletic Museum)

Brittan was recommended for a George Medal by the London County Council, with the recommendation endorsed by Mr Tinslay, Officer in Charge of the Greenwich Rescue Service and by Dr John Montgomery of the Valley First Aid Post, with the award confirmed and gazetted in the London Gazette dated 25 April 1941. The citation concludes thus:

"Brittan was under the debris for five hours without relief and displayed initiative, resource and a high courage. Through his exertions, four persons were rescued alive."

The site of the bombed houses in Charlton Lane (Paul Chapman)

The bombed terrace of houses in Charlton Lane were never rebuilt after the war and today the site forms part of the grounds of Pound Park School but in a way, this is an apt memorial to the five who perished here as well as to the heroic efforts of Albert Brittan and his Rescue Squad who ensured that seven others lived to tell the tale.

I haven't yet been able to ascertain any real details of what Albert did subsequently but he appears to have died, aged only 46, on 31 October 1952 in Greenwich, leaving Emma Rose as his widow. One can only speculate whether his early death was due in some way to his dangerous work as a demolition contractor in an era when health and safety practices were largely absent in the workplace.

In remembrance of those who died here on the night of 8/9 December 1940:

Rachel Miekle Cumming, aged 72, of 27 Charlton Lane

Sidney Martin, aged 32, of 27 Charlton Lane

Florence Lilian Maud Budden, aged  37, of 25 Charlton Lane

Gertrude Budden, aged 59, of 25 Charlton Lane

Desmond Charles Lambert, aged 17, of 23 Charlton Lane

Postscript - 26 October 2020 - I have now been contacted by Keith Budden, aged 81 who was one of those pulled from the ruins of 25 Charlton Lane by the Rescue Squad, although in his case not by Albert Brittan. Keith too saw the Antiques Roadshow and was alerted to my blog post by a friend. Keith tells me that Barry Martin, then just seven months old and who was the baby rescued by Albert Brittan, is also still with us, aged 80. Both men subsequently married and have children and grandchildren, none of which would have been possible without the heroism of Albert Brittan GM and his rescue squad.

Both the Budden and Martin families, who counted amongst those rescued, as well as victims, are inextricably linked with the early history of Charlton Athletic FC and indeed a future Charlton legend, Brian Kinsey was related via marriage to the Budden family although he was not present in Charlton Lane on the night in question, as at that time he was living in nearby Priolo Road.

Published Sources:

The London Gazette - dated 25 April 1941

Unpublished Sources:

Metropolitan Borough of Greenwich Civil Defence Incident Log 1939 - 1945

Home Office Inter-Departmental Committee on Civil Defence Gallantry Awards, Case No. 843 - HO 250/19/843 - UK National Archives, Kew

London Open House Weekend - Albert Speer's doorknob, Charles Holden's masterpiece, an air raid shelter and Civil Defence HQ in one day!

Firstly, for those readers outside London, or indeed the United Kingdom, let me explain what London Open House Weekend actually is!

It bills itself as "the world's largest architecture festival, giving free public access to 800+ buildings, walks, talks and tours over one weekend in September each year." The event has been running since 1992 and provides access to buildings that are not normally open to the public, as well as to the parts of well-known buildings that the public cannot usually visit. In short, it is a dream for any lover of architecture, history or of London in general!

This year, I set myself a target of visiting some sites with a wartime connection and as always, report on here what I had found. My first visit took me to Westminster and to a building with an interesting immediate pre-war history.

Number 6-9 Carlton House Terrace is now the home to The Royal Society, who have been resident here since 1967. The Terrace itself is the creation of architect John Nash and in addition to Prussia House, as the building was known in a former guise as the German Embassy, the Terrace has had many famous residents, including Lord Palmerstone, William Ewart Gladstone, Viscount Astor and Lord Curzon.

The small garden adjoining the former embassy is the home to a small grave marker, which is inscribed "'GIRO' EIN TRUER BEGLEITER! LONDON IM FEBRUAR 1934, HOESCH" and commemorates a pet dog belonging to the ambassador from 1932 - 1936, Dr. Leopold Von Hoesch. Translated, the inscription reads "'GIRO' A LOYAL COMPANION" and is also perhaps indicative of the good Doctor's personality - a cultivated, cultured man, who worked hard to improve Anglo-German relations in the inter-war years. The marker almost certainly doesn't indicate the actual resting place of Giro as it was rescued from oblivion by a worker engaged on excavating the underground car park during the 1960s. Giro had reputedly met his end by electrocution, when he carelessly chewed through an electric cable to a lamp but sadly today, there is no trace of the location of his exact grave.

Giro grave marker (Author's photograph)

Dr Von Hoesch had been appointed by the Weimar regime and by the time of his death in 1936 whilst still in post, he had found himself increasingly at odds with his new political masters back in Berlin. His funeral cortege in London had been full of Nazi pomp but tellingly, he was returned to Germany on a British destroyer, HMS Scout and at the funeral in his home city of Dresden, not one party member had bothered to attend.

I was aware that the interior of the building had been renovated by Hitler's architect Albert Speer and wanted to see if any evidence of this work was still visible. I had heard rumours of a Nazi Eagle mosaic hidden beneath a carpet somewhere in the building but if there was any truth in this, any views of it were not forthcomng but what we were able to see from this era were several doorknobs reputedly installed during the Speer renovation and also the main staircase, which now boast Travertine marble facings, also a remnant from the work carried out at this time.

A Third Reich doorknob! (author's photo)

Travertine marble installed during the Albert Speer renovation (Author's photograph)

A brisk walk across St James's Park took me to my next port of call at 55 Broadway, perhaps better known as the headquarters building for London Transport, designed by Charles Holden and constructed between 1927 and 1929. The wartime connection here is somewhat more tenuous but still merits a honourable mention. Holden himself was London Transport's "in house" architect and was responsible for the corporate style that led to the classic, airy station buildings designed on the Northern and Piccadilly Line extensions but he had perhaps first come to prominence for his work for the Imperial War Graves Commission (now the Commonwealth War Graves Commission) immediately after the First World War. Initially working as Senior Design Architect and reporting to such luminaries as Edwin Lutyens and Herbert Baker, he had gone on to design works in his own right including memorials at Messines Ridge British Cemetery and the Buttes New British Cemetery at Zonnebeke.

55 Broadway was when built, the tallest office building in London and is of a cruciform design, with wings that project from a central core which contain lifts, staircases and other services. The design allowed more natural light into the offices and was constructed directly above St James's Park Station. The building is supported by some 700 concrete piles and nineteen load-bearing steel girders span the railway, with special insulation used in order to reduce vibration emanating from the passing trains beneath. It is faced with some 2,200 cubic metres of Portland stone, one of Holden's favourite materials. Much use was also made of Norwegian granite for plinth facings and black Belgian marble for the column capitals, as well as Travertine marble for the reception areas.

55 Broadway still looking maginificent (Author's photograph)

Frank Pick, the Chief Executive and Deputy Chairman of London Transport, who commissioned the building and who was responsible for every aspect of London Transport's corporate design, also invited contemporary artists such as Jacob Epstein, Eric Gill, Henry Moore, A H Gerrard, Eric Aumonier, Allan Wyon and Samuel Rabinovitch to contribute sculptures to adorn the building but Epstein's work entitled 'Night and Day' provoked a considerable outcry at the time for the somewhat generously endowed child that forms part of the 'Day' section of the work. Pick and Holden, to their credit, stood by their artists and supported the installation of their works. The building suffered during the Blitz and received a direct hit from a high explosive bomb on the night of 10/11 May 1941, which was temporarily repaired in brick during the war but seamlessly repaired post-war using compatible Portland stone.

The original train describer that once could place every train on the network (Author's photograph)

The seventh floor executive suite (Author's photograph)

An 'Underground' embossed hopper at the top of the drain pipe (Author's photograph)

Sadly, many of the original office interiors were torn out in 1986/87 during a refurbishment and replaced with more contemporary materials, which are frankly, not suitable for a building of this stature. Despite this, some original features still remain, such as the train describer in the main reception, which when installed could reputedly locate the position of every train on the network by making a printed mark on the recording paper disks for each of the lines in existence at the time - this device predates the Victoria and Jubilee Lines by some years. The Executive Suite on the seventh floor, which once contained Frank Pick's office, together with that of the Chairman, Lord Ashfield, remains fairly unchanged with timber panelling abounding and the exterior of the building features drain pipes adorned with the "Underground" logo on the hoppers.

55 Broadway is deservedly a Grade One Listed Building. Sadly, the cash-strapped Transport for London have sold the building, which will become a hotel, no doubt out of the price range for ordinary Londoners. It remains to be seen whether this magnificent structure will continue to be open for future Open House Weekends.

I left 55 Broadway beneath rapidly darkening skies and made a quick dash by tube for Waterloo Station, from where I was to catch a train for my next destination and what for me, would be the highlight of my day.

The Shelter Entrance at St Leonard's Court (Author's photo)

Fortunately, I made a quick connection at Waterloo but by the time I alighted from my train at Mortlake, it was raining steadily but although the Open House brochure had warned me of potential queues at my next venue, a combination of the bad weather and my early arrival meant that only a short wait was necessary before I could descend below ground!

It was inevitable that if an air raid shelter formed part of London Open House, then I would be there and the private shelter at St Leonard's Court had been on my "must visit" list ever since I became aware of it a couple of years ago.

St Leonard's Court itself is a four storey, private apartment complex designed by architect F G Fox and constructed between 1934 and 1938. The idea of the shelter was no doubt spurred on by the Munich Crisis that came during the year the block was completed and although the immediate threat of war was averted then, planning permission for the shelter was sought in October 1939, just a month after war had been declared. Residents had been canvassed as to their interest in building the shelter and they had decided that a private shelter was far preferable to the public shelters on offer in the borough. Space could be assured for the price of £7 per annum and the original shelter consisted of two large sitting areas constructed below the courtyard and accessed from stairs in a turret-shaped structure. These sitting areas were segregated into male and female sections, each with two Elsan-type toilets and capable of holding 120 persons. Each sitting area had an emergency exit, consisting of a vertical ladder, in case of the main exit being blocked by rubble. Electric light was provided as well as bench-type seating. These facilities represented a considerable improvement on the public shelters, which were usually brick built, surface structures with little or no sanitation.

Going down.....(Author's photograph)

The route to daylight (Author's photograph)

Emergency Exit (Author's photograph)

Ladies sitting area (Author's photograph)

 

Gentlemen's sitting area (Author's photograph)

Each sitting section had two of these Elsan toilets (Author's photograph)

In 1941, a dormitory section was added and contained 48 bunk beds. This was probably limited by space constraints rather than any lack of demand. As with the sitting areas, the accommodation on offer here was vastly superior than could be found in any public shelters, with the possible exception of the London Underground (out of range for this area) and the Deep Level shelters (also out of range and yet to be finished in 1941). As with the sitting areas, the dormitory was divided but this time with a Children's section added too. Each bunk had it's own electric light above the bed for reading purposes and remarkably, many of these lights still have the makeshift shades made by the residents from pieces of fabric that they had to hand. As with the sitting areas, an emergency exit ladder was provided.

Each bunk had a light - here with original improvised lamp shade (Author's photo)

Recreated bunks, with numbered coat hangers (Author's photograph)

Fortunately, although the shelter was used on numerous occasions during the Blitz and subsequent V-Weapons campaign, St Leonard's Court was never seriously damaged by bombing and suffered just one incendiary bomb on the roof in 1941, which was quickly dealt with by the Air Raid Wardens.

Leaving the shelter and saying my goodbyes, I was now racing against the clock, as I needed to get from Mortlake back to my own neighbourhood in southeast London before it was too late. Once again, the train connections were kind to me and I was able to quickly dash home and collect my car in order to make the final visit of the day.

Shrewsbury House sits almost on top of Shooter's Hill in southeast London and was built in 1923, replacing another house of the same name dating from 1789 and located slightly further up the hill. The earlier building has been built for the Earl of Shrewsbury but in 1799 had come into the ownership of the Prince Regent, later King George IV. The house had been used as a convalescent home during the First World War but in 1916, the house and it's grounds had been purchased by Fred Halse, a former Mayor of Woolwich and owner of a construction company. He demolished the original Shrewsbury House in 1923 and the new building bearing the same name was intended to be a family home for Mr Halse. Things obviously didn't go to plan and in 1930, Halse & Sons went into voluntary liquidation and it is far from clear whether Halse or any members of his family ever lived at their new home. The house is today Grade II listed and is described by Historic England as "A handsome and substantial early C20 country house with varied and well-articulated external elevations and interiors in a Jacobean, early C18 and Adam style."

The main entrance of Shrewsbury House (Author's photograph)

In 1933, the Metropolitan Borough of Woolwich purchased the house, together with an acre of grounds for £9,000, with the intention of using the building as a library and museum, although the museum usage never actually materialised, perhaps due to the gathering war clouds. By the time war came in September 1939, Shrewsbury House had been established as the Civil Defence control for the Metropolitan Borough of Woolwich, in preference to Woolwich Town Hall, a magnificent Victorian building but one which was considered unsuitable for this purpose, due to a combination of the age of the building and the associated expense involved in converting the basement for this use and also because of its location in the centre of a Garrison Town which was also fairly adjacent to a prime target for the Luftwaffe - the Woolwich Arsenal. Shrewsbury House, in contrast is in a far more isolated location and less likely to attract the attention of hostile aircraft.

By the time I arrived, the final guided tour of the day had started but I was able to tag along just in time for the parts of the tour that interested me most, covering the building's wartime past. The tour was guided by the excellent Andy Brockman, a local historian and professional archaeologist, who is also a trustee of Shrewsbury House. I joined Andy and the group in a room that now is used as a meeting room in the house's current guise as a community centre and which also contains the bar. Andy explained that during the Second World War, this room was the nerve centre of the Civil Defence network for the borough and would have contained representatives of the various services that constituted the wartime Civil Defence, or Air Raid Precautions as it was known in the early years of the war. Andy told us that there were few clues remaining as to this former use but invited us to look more closely at the main door to the room. On closer examination, the outline of the words "MAP ROOM" could just about be made out and were in fact, slightly clearer the further back from the door one stood.

The words "MAP ROOM" can still be faintly seen on the door (Author's photograph)

Moving on, Andy then took us outside the building with a promise to show us more of the building's Civil Defence past and we paused outside a large brick and concrete structure, reminiscent of a Second World War surface air raid shelter but one which looked too large for this purpose. Andy then explained that this was in fact the Civil Defence Control for the Cold War era but that initially, these structures had been based on Second World War technology and experience, hence this structure looking like a "beefed up" version of a 1939-45 shelter. Closer examination revealed strong buttresses at floor level, the purpose of these being to steady the walls against the much larger blast waves expected from nuclear weapons, which would exert enormous pressure on the walls, no matter how thick they might be. Speaking to us from within the confines of the main Control Room area, Andy went on to tell us that experience gained from subsequent weapon tests rendered these surface buildings obsolete almost as soon as they were constructed. The blast wave from even a moderately sized nuclear bomb dropped in the vicinity of the Royal Docks, just across to the north side of the Thames, would have been more than sufficient to have flattened a structure such as this. Subsequent control rooms would be built below ground to give them a chance of immunity from the effects of an atomic bomb.

The Cold War Civil Defence Control Room (Author's photograph)

Civil Defence Control - Cold War style (Author's photo)

Andy explains the use of the building to the group (Author's photograph)

We then moved back inside the building and completed our tour by looking out at the magnificent view across the Thames Estuary and East Kent from the upper floors. It was whilst checking out this view that I noticed that the garden of an adjacent house contained a small, concrete shelter. This would have been privately built instead of the then occupier accepting the more usual Anderson Shelter. Perhaps the proximity of the garden to the Civil Defence Headquarters had swayed the thinking of the householder!

Private shelter visible at centre of photograph, behind wooden fence (Author's photograph)

The view to the east (Author's photograph)

So ended an exhausting but highly enjoyable Open House experience. Where else could one experience an Albert Speer doorknob, see the work of one of our foremost architects, visit a remarkably well-preserved private air raid shelter and learn about the Civil Defence arrangements for a London borough, all in one day?

Thanks are due to all of those organisations taking part in London Open House Weekend 2019 as well as to all those volunteers who willingly gave up their weekend time in order to show off their wonderful buildings. The London Open House 2020 event will take place over the weekend of September 19 and 20, so reserve these dates in your diaries as there are sure to be some more architectural gems on display.

As always, all of the photographs in this piece are my images and may not be used or reproduced without my express written permission.

'Anging 'Round Pubs

Chief Warden Hodges, as played by Bill Pertwee, together with his nemesis, Capt. Mainwaring as played by Arthur Lowe (Author's collection)

This article is an updated and modified version of a piece which first appeared in the July 2010 edition of this blog.

For those of us of a certain generation and thanks to the constant re-runs, many younger people too, the mention of a Second World War Air Raid Warden will often automatically lead to thoughts of Chief Warden Bert Hodges, played superbly by the late Bill Pertwee in the classic BBC comedy Dad's Army. To use the words of Sergeant Wilson of the Walmington-on-Sea Home Guard, Hodges was a "rather course man" who revelled in his newly-found importance and indeed was heard to state in at least one episode "...I do enjoy this war." What Hodges doesn't realise, at least until much later in the series, is that he is roundly despised by not only the Home Guard platoon but also by pretty much everyone in the town and is shocked into tears when he learns of this - not that it seems to change him much.

Whilst the character of Hodges was obviously written for comedic effect by Jimmy Perry and David Croft - who both were of the wartime generation - as the 'Pantomime Villain' for the series, there are certainly some parallels between the depiction of Hodges and how the British public viewed their real-life Air Raid Wardens, at least at the earlier period of the war. 

Some of the rhetoric and mythology that has emanated from the 1940 Blitz period propaganda is still wheeled out to this day, sometimes by those who really should know better. On the other hand, works such as Clive Ponting's execrable "1940: Myth and Reality" basically would have us believe that everything that happened in 1940 was a lie - at least as far as the British were concerned. This would have come as news to my parents and grandparents, as well as the many others who lived through it!

As always, the truth lays somewhere in between the extremes and one of the happier aspects of any serious research is to sometimes discover that a story that one had come to believe was a complete fabrication, is actually true. This is the case with the assertion, that I have heard from one or two other guides, that an article in a local London newspaper stated that ARP should stand not for "Air Raid Precautions" but instead for "' Anging 'Round Pubs". Good for a laugh but a story that has never been backed up with a shred of evidence, at least not by anyone that I have heard peddling it. Closer investigation of the British Newspaper Archive reveals that such a phrase was indeed heard in 1939 and 1940 but far from it being a local newspaper story, it was a gag used by the great Bud Flanagan in his act, which was then repeated in various articles in the national and entertainment press, an example of which is repeated below. I can now use this gag when guiding groups and have some evidence to support the story!

The Bud Flanagan gag, as explained in 'The Bystander' of 27 October 1939 (Author's photo)

As the Wardens' main job was the ensure the enforcement of the Blackout, there were some members of the public who viewed them as lackeys of the police, whilst others resented their calls of "Put that light out" or "Cover that window" whenever a chink of light was detected, thus breaking the blackout regulations. As with any sample of the population, there were some wardens who were officious and bossy and of course, any reports of such individuals gave the rest of the service a bad name, even though the vast majority were of wardens were diligent citizens doing their best to help defend their local neighbourhood. 

Whilst the relatively few full-time ARP Wardens were paid £3 5s a week for men and £2 3s 6d for women (about £3.25 and £2.18 respectively), the majority of wardens (around 90 percent) were part timers, who were basically paid expenses only. Full-time wardens over 35 were also "frozen" (i.e. exempt) from the call-up to the armed services effective from October 1940. By the end of the war, the numbers of wardens across the country had swollen to some 1.4 million, of whom around ten percent were full timers.

The origins of the Wardens' Service goes back to 1935, when the then Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin published a circular called Air Raid Precautions which invited local authorities to make plans to protect their citizens against air attack in the event of a war. Some of the more responsible authorities responded by constructing public air raid shelters, whilst others ignored the advice perhaps hoping that by doing so, the problem would go away.

Air Raid Wardens in Lewisham outside their Post (Author's collection)

Faced with this attitude from some councils, in 1937 the government decided to create an Air Raid Wardens' service and over the following year, recruited some 200,000 volunteers. In addition to the wardens, the government extended the provision of public air raid shelters by digging trench shelters in public parks and issuing corrugated steel shelters to households for installation in gardens. These were known as Anderson Shelters after Sir John Anderson, whom Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had placed in charge of Air Raid Precautions in 1938. At first, it was decided not to use the London Underground for sheltering purposes but this was quickly countermanded in the face of civil disobedience as soon as the Blitz started.

Once the Blitz started, the public's attitude towards the Air Raid Wardens changed almost overnight, for as well as patrolling during the quieter "all clear" periods, the Wardens would remain on the streets on patrol, invariably in pairs during raids, when they would often be the first to arrive on the scene of an incident. They would then assess the situation, decide which services were required and then make their report to the Post Warden, who would then telephone for the requested services. The warden would then return to the scene of the incident and take charge until such time as the services arrived, at which point they would continue their patrol of their designated area.

Being in the front line as it were, it was inevitable that many wardens would be killed and these were amongst the total of 2,379 Civil Defence workers including 231 women lost their lives during the conflict.

Published Sources:

London at War, Philip Ziegler - Sinclair Stevenson 1995
Backs to the Wall, Leonard Mosley - Weidenfeld & Nicholson 1971
Blitz, M J Gaskin - Faber & Faber 2005
The City that Wouldn't Die, Richard Collier - Collins 1959
Carry on London, Ritchie Calder - English Universities Press 1941
The Myth of The Blitz, Angus Calder - Jonathan Cape 1991
The People's War, Angus Calder - Jonathan Cape 1969

Unpublished Sources:

British Newspaper Archive - 'The Bystander', 27 October 1939

What Still Remains

This article first appeared in the very early days of this blog back in November 2011. I thought it worthwhile to update it slightly, correct some of the grammar and to post a few additional images. As always, the photographs used in this piece are my property and MAY NOT be reproduced anywhere without my express written permission.

Shelter Sign in Frankham Street, Deptford (author's photo)

As someone who frequently guides walks around the bombed areas of our capital city and who frequently studies this aspect of our wartime past, I'm 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 unlike some of the so-called experts out there, I certainly does not profess to know about everything that still remains. 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.

Splinter damage at St Clement Danes Church (Author's photo)

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 splinters. Sometimes and incorrectly referred to as shrapnel, this now generic term comes from the name of Colonel Henry Shrapnel. Whilst he was still a Lieutenant in the Royal Artillery in 1784, he 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, 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 can be seen 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.

Shelter sign on St John's Estate, Bermondsey (Author's photo)

Whilst out walking, look for the tacit signs of damage; the replacement brickwork around windows, the lighter coloured masonry that even after almost eighty 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.

Shelter with intact blast wall at Croydon Cemetery (Author's photo)

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 a splendid example complete with intact blast walls at Croydon Cemetery. 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.

EWS sign at the site of St Paul's School, Hammersmith (Author's photo)

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. A few of these signs still survive - there are two faded examples at the site of the former Wilson's Grammar School in Camberwell, another in Copperfield Street in Southwark, on Albert Embankment, at Boston Manor and at the former site of St Paul's School in Hammersmith.

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. Wardens’ Posts are rarer creatures although one or two others are still extant, with extant examples still to be found in Blackheath, Blackfen and Barnes amongst other places.

Putney Bridge Station pillbox (Author's photo)

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 end of the war 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.

Stretcher Fences in Marlborough Lane, Charlton (Author's photo)

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 new plaques being 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.

English Heritage Blue Plaque in Bow (Author's photo)

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.

History on our doorsteps

One is never too far from history in London and reminders of the capital's wartime past are certainly still out there in abundance if one knows where to look. Over the years, I've shared photographs of wartime remnants that I encounter on my travels and in the weeks before Christmas, I set out to take some photographs of other reminders of our wartime history.

My first foray took me just across the Thames from my own home to photograph something that I had seen previously but had never thought to photograph before. A short journey on the Docklands Light Railway found me at Stratford and walking along the Greenway - a footpath and cycleway that runs along the top of the Northern Outfall sewer pipe and which also passes the Olympic Stadium. 

Tank Traps and Pillbox on the Greenway (author's photographs)

Following the fall of France in June 1940, a Nazi invasion of this country was thought to be a serious proposition and urgent arrangements were put in hand to counter the threat. Under the direction of General Sir Edmund Ironside, Commander in Chief Home Forces, a series of fixed defences known as the "GHQ Line" and a further series of "Stop Lines" were put in place around London and across the southeast of England. Perhaps it was felt that German tanks could proceed easily along the Greenway as in addition to pillboxes at the Thames end of the Outfall pipe, anti-tank obstructions and a further pillbox was installed at Stratford as part of the London Stop Line Outer, or "Line A" as it was also known. General Ironside's plans for fixed defences were controversial and those commanders who had seen recent action during the British Expeditionary Force's withdrawal from France were vehement in their condemnation of this proliferation of concrete, which in France, the German Army had simply manoeuvered around, or obliterated from the air. Indeed, the then Major General Bernard Montgomery simply stated that he was in "complete disagreement with the general approach to the defence of Britain" and refused to apply it!

He was supported by General Alan Brooke, who had conducted a brilliant fighting withdrawal of his II Corps to Dunkirk, who also appreciated the realities of modern, mobile warfare and who proposed to create mobile reserves close to probable German landing sites. These views in particular, coincided with those of Winston Churchill and following a conversation between the Prime Minister and Brooke during a visit to the latter's Southern Command, Ironside was sacked after only two months in the role. His replacement was Brooke and as a consequence, the "pill box madness" subsided in favour of more mobile forces. History tells us that the invasion never came and fortunately, the Olympic Park defences were never called upon to fire a shot in anger.

For my next stop, I wanted to check out a ghost sign in nearby Bethnal Green that I had been tipped off about and a short bus journey later, I found myself walking along Hereford Street searching for evidence of another facet of wartime London.

Ghost Sign in Hereford Street, Bow (author's photo)

Hereford Street is quite close to Brick Lane in the heart of the old East End of London and the faded sign on the wall of St Matthew's Church Gardens reads "FAP GAS CASES - WOMEN" - FAP stands for First Aid Post and this particular example would have been for treatment of women victims of a poison gas attack on the area. Since the Great War of 1914-18 when poison gas had been used by both sides on the Western Front, there was a great fear that any future conflict would see the civilian populations of British cities and towns subjected to the same horrors. As a consequence, gas masks had been issued to every citizen beginning in 1938 at the time of the Munich Crisis and gas decontamination had been one of the mainstays of the Civil Defence, or Air Raid Precautions arrangements established in the run-up to war in 1939. Mercifully, when war did come, neither side resorted to the use of poison gas and like the anti-invasion measures in nearby Stratford, the Bethnal Green Gas Decontamination Centre was never needed, although the First Aid Post would undoubtedly have seen a heavy workload during the Blitz.

Another short bus journey saw me at Hackney Town Hall, where at the rear of the building is the entrance to an underground bunker. This structure was one of the entrances to the Civil Defence Control Centre for the Metropolitan Borough of Hackney and as such, would have seen extensive service during the Blitz of 1940-41 and the subsequent V-Weapons campaigns of 1944-45. 

Hackney Borough ARP Control Centre (author's photo)

Another short bus journey took me to outside no. 322 Kingsland Road, Dalston where the unmistakeable shape of an air raid shelter entrance can still be seen. It is unclear as to why this house did not have the more familiar shape of an Anderson Shelter in the back garden but it is possible that the premises saw industrial use during the war, or perhaps the owner of the time could afford to pay for a privately built and what he would have hoped was a sturdier structure built deeper into the ground than the garden structure. Interestingly, the shelter now has a door with a letter box, although there was a note to the postman instructing him not to deliver any letters here!

Shelter entrance outside 322 Kingsland Road (author's photo)

On my way home - and much closer to Blitzwalker Towers - I then discovered something entirely by chance and which despite being less than ten minutes walk from my own front door, I had never spotted previously. Walking home from the bus stop via a slightly different route to normal, I was astonished to discover a set of "stretcher fences" in Marlborough Lane, Charlton. Before the outbreak of war, the British Government had assumed that civilian casualties in any future war would be on a Biblical scale with hundreds of thousands killed and injured within a few weeks of the onset of any bombing campaign. As such, suitable numbers of the tubular steel and wire mesh "ARP" Stretchers were manufactured and stockpiled to await the inevitable apocalypse. Fortunately, although the Blitz did claim some 30,000 killed and many more injured in London alone, the mass casualties never materialised and consequently, most of these stretchers remained unused, in storage. Post-war, a quick way needed to be found to replace the wrought iron railings sacrificed for the war effort and also to provide boundary fencing for the many new council estates that appeared to replace bomb damaged and destroyed housing. A quick and what proved to be lasting solution was found in the unused stretchers and today, over seventy years since the end of the war, many of these fences can still be seen at many locations across London.

Stretcher Fencing in Marlborough Lane, Charlton (author's photo)

A few weeks later saw me make another foray, this time with my good friend and designer of our main website, Sam Dorrington, who had tipped me off about some shelters and similar structures in his own locality of Carshalton and Wallington. One of these structures I was aware of but had never photographed, whilst the others were not known to me. After an intial exploration of Kenley Aerodrome (which will feature in a future blog post), Sam drove me to what he described as a "mystery location" which was actually on the Roundshaw Estate, which during the wartime years was part of the former Croydon Airport, at that time in use as a Fighter Station for the RAF. After a short walk through some woodland, we came across the unmistakeable shape of an air raid shelter, now daubed with graffiti but sustantially intact. Sam soon set to work in uncovering the outline of where the blast walls had been located.

Air Raid Shelter at Roundshaw (author's photo)

Sam hard at work uncovering the blast wall (author's photo)

Jumping back into the car, Sam soon took us to the site of another public shelter, this time in nearby Carshalton. Located on the Wrythe Recreation Ground, adjacent to Carshalton Athletic Football Club, I was aware of this shelter but had never examined it previously. This was a substantial concrete structure set into the grass. Most, if not all of the surrounding housing would have had sufficient space for an Anderson Shelter in the garden but during the war, there was a large gas works quite close to this location as well as other industry, so it is quite possible that this shelter was constructed with the workers at these facilities in mind.

The shelter at Wrythe Recreation Ground (author's photos)

Our next port of call was close to Sam's home and took the form of an Air Raid Wardens' Post, located at Mellows Park in Wallington. Made famous by Bill Pertwee's portrayal of Chief Warden Hodges in the classic comedy Dad's Army, the real-life Wardens were an extremely brave and dedicated group of men and women, who not only enforced the black-out but performed many other vital duties during the Blitz, such as supervising air raid shelters, rescue work and acting as 'First Responders' at bomb incidents. They were controlled at a municipal level, with a senior warden on duty at the local borough control, as we saw above at Hackney but operating through a network of Wardens' Posts. Sometimes, these posts were improvised affairs in the basements of existing buildings but more often than not, they were located in small, purpose-built concrete structures that looked like miniature air raid shelters. This was the case at Mellows Park and despite the sadly inevitable grafitti, the structure remains substantially intact and is locally listed.

ARP Wardens' Post at Mellows Park, Wallington (author's photo)

Our final visit for the day was just a short drive away and in the fading light, we arrived at nearby Woodcote Green in Wallington, where another similar looking but slightly wider structure to the Mellows Park Wardens' Post was located. A large mound in the grass adjacent to the brick structure suggested that a shelter was also present and that this small building was a shelter entrance, perhaps also doubling up as a Wardens' Post. A visit to the London Borough of Sutton archives will be required at some point to ascertain what exactly the arrangements were here.

Woodcote Green Shelter Entrance (author's photo)

All in all, combined with the visit to Kenley, it was a fascinating day of exploration only about an hour from my own home and thanks were due to Sam for giving up his time to show me his local wartime history.

Despite London being a vast city, there is still plenty of history, if not quite on one's doorstep, then certainly within a short distance of it. I shall be out and about again quite soon in my search for some more examples of our wartime past.