Splinters, Shrapnel and London's 'Honourable Scars'

Steve pointing out the splinter damage on General Wolfe's statue (Sam Dorrington, Surrey Photographer)

For clients taking one of my Blitz walks, the enjoyment and interest comes in many forms. For some, it is the aspect of walking the ground and imagining just what it was like to be in London, or any other town or city when the bombs were falling, whilst for others, it is the wonderment of seeing the 'then and now' perspectives to be gained by comparing the present day view with that of some seventy years ago. One aspect that does seem universally popular however, is when at various points along a given route, the 'props' appear. These period artefacts really help to bring the walks alive and the fact that people can touch and feel something from the period helps them to better understand the subject matter being discussed at that particular 'stand' on the walk.

One set of 'props' in particular always arouse a particular fascination - this is the shrapnel fragments. The fascination is always a mixture of interest in finally handling the stuff that is so often mentioned in personal accounts, in documentaries and books as well as an appalled understanding as to what this stuff that can easily scar solid masonry could actually do to the human body.

With the final bomb sites in London and elsewhere finally now built upon, the splinter and shrapnel scars left on many buildings are perhaps the remaining most tangible reminder of the daily ordeal that London and Londoners, as well as many other towns and cities endured eighty years ago and sometimes from the First World War too.

The author's shrapnel fragments from a British anti-aircraft shell (Author's photo)

Before going any further, perhaps we should examine the derivation of the word 'shrapnel' and how it has passed into everyday usage.

In 1784, Lieutenant General Henry Shrapnel, of the Royal Artillery, perfected what he called "spherical case" ammunition, which was basically a hollow cannon ball, filled with musket balls which was designed to explode in mid-air over concentrations of enemy soldiers. This first anti-personnel weapon was demonstrated in 1787 at Gibraltar and was adopted by the British Army. By 1803, they had evolved into an elongated shell that was christened as the "Shrapnel Shell" and continued to be manufactured with little basic change, until the end of the Great War. The name stuck and by the Second World War, Henry Shrapnel's surname had become the generic description for any bomb or shell fragments.

This writer is lucky enough to possess several such fragments, all of which were discovered on the Thames foreshore in Greenwich by the excellent Nicola White of Tide Line Art and which are invaluable 'props' to my walks.

These pieces take many forms; first we have the shell fragments, which in this case come from the driving bands of British 3.7" anti-aircraft shells. Modern gun barrels are "rifled" with helical grooves that are machined on the interior bore of the gun barrel and at the base of a shell is a brass or copper alloy band with corresponding grooves that engage with those inside the gun barrel, thus causing the shell to rotate upon firing.

People sometimes overlook the fact that apart from the fragments from German bombs, there was a spirited anti-aircraft barrage emanating from London's defences and whilst in 1940, it has to be said that this fire was largely ineffectual, it did help boost the morale of the beleaguered Londoners, who felt that there was at least some opposition being generated to the unseen night time raiders. Of course, the theory of "What goes up, must come down" applied and as well as being peppered with bomb splinters, those who had reason to be out on the streets during a raid had to contend with this added British generated hazard.

Spent British 0.303" bullets (Author's photo)

Another similar item in my possession is a collection of spent bullets. In 1940, the Battle of Britain was raging overhead and some of the Luftwaffe's early daylight raids over London were fiercely contested by the RAF's Hurricanes and Spitfires. Many of the dogfights took place over London itself and whilst most civilians wisely took cover, there were many who watched these deadly duels taking place over their own homes and workplaces. The daylight battle over London culminated on September 15th with the Luftwaffe suffering heavy losses. At the time, the Air Ministry claimed that 185 German aircraft (of 201 bombers and approximately 530 fighters deployed) had been destroyed. The actual figure was 56 destroyed but still represented a major defeat for the Luftwaffe. Combined with earlier heavy losses, the German high command decided to switch their attacks on London and other British cities to night-time area bombing methods.

The bullets that I have are from British 0.303" calibre Browning machine guns, which were the standard armament of the Hurricane and the Spitfire, the versions of these iconic fighters in use during the Battle of Britain each being equipped with eight of these weapons. Nicola also kindly (and unwittingly) gave me two live rounds, which were promptly and safely disposed of!

Neil Bright's bomb splinter (Author's photo)

Then of course, we have the pieces that come from German bombs, more correctly described as splinters rather than shrapnel. Neil Bright, formerly of this parish, is the owner of a fearsome fragment from a German bomb, which is roughly the size of the palm of my hand. The prospect of a fragment of this size striking a person simply does not bear thinking about. There are many similar pieces on display in museums, at home and abroad. The church of St Edmund, King & Martyr is perhaps unique in containing splinters from a bomb that was actually dropped on the building by a German Gotha aircraft in 1917 and which fell through the roof. Not only are pieces of the bomb still on display inside the church but the entry point was converted into a window, located in the roof!

Bomb fragments at St Edmund, King & Martyr Church in the City of London (author's photo)

The entry point of the bomb at St Edmund, King & Martyr (author's photo)

The museum at the Royal Hospital Chelsea goes one better by having a complete bomb on display, in this case a 250 kg HE bomb which was one of three that fell in the grounds of the Infirmary on 16 October 1940, all of which failed to explode.

Unexploded 250 kg bomb on display at Royal Hospital, Chelsea (author's photo)

In Hamburg, two museums in that city display bomb splinters of impressive proportions; the Bunker Museum at Hamm has a substantial fragment of a British 250 lb bomb found in the immediate area when clearing the ground prior to the opening of the museum. The thought of this scything through the air is truly frightening. The museum in the crypt of the Nikolai Kirche also has some large splinters on display, as well as some complete bombs, again of the unexploded variety.

British 250 lb bomb fragment at Hamburg Bunker Museum (author's photo)

Bomb fragments at the Mahnmal St Nikolai, Hamburg (author's photo)

Unexploded RAF 250 lb bomb at the Mahnmal St Nikolai (author's photo)

Today, many buildings in London still display the "Honourable Scars" of their Wartime past, amongst them General Wolfe's statue in Greenwich Park, St Bartholomew's Hospital in the City of London, St Clement Danes Church in The Strand, Lord Clyde's statue in Waterloo Place as well as Edward VII's equestrian statue in the same location. Other buildings still bearing their scars are St Paul's Cathedral and the Victoria & Albert Museum, whose pockmarks are accompanied by a helpful plaque, which explains what these marks are and why they remain unrepaired. The Guards' Memorial also proudly displays splinter damage as do humbler structures such as the abutments of a railway bridge across Blackfriars Road and buildings in London Street, near Paddington Station.

Wartime scars on St Clement Danes Church (Author's photo)

Damage to the base of Lord Clyde's statue in Waterloo Place (author's photo)

All of these, as well as others serve to remind present day civilians here in London and elsewhere what our forebears had to endure during the dark days of the Second World War.



Printed Sources:

Battle of Britain Day: 15 September 1940 - Dr Alfred Price, Sidgwick & Jackson 1990
The Narrow Margin - Derek Wood with Derek Dempster - Tri Service Press 1990

Hitler Passed This Way

Amongst my collection of Blitz-related books is Hitler Passed This Way, a collection of 170 photographs from the London Evening News, which older readers may remember from a time when our capital city had not one, but three evening newspapers - the Evening News, the Evening Standard and The Star.

The booklet takes the form mainly of a series of 'before and after' shots of various buildings in London destroyed during the Blitz and subsequent V-Weapons campaigns. This anthology was published in late 1945 when memories of these events were still very fresh in the minds of Londoners and the linking text is very much of this time and not surprisingly, makes no mention of the fact that the RAF had until very recently been meting out the same sort of indiscriminate treatment, only on a much greater scale, to German civilians that is described in the book thus:

"Many times from September 1940 until March 1945, did Hitler single out London for his major effort of destruction. The docks, the City, the east end, the west end, north and south London, the railways, the bridges and the suburbs, all had their nights of high explosive bombs, great and small. Night after night Hitler rained incendiary bombs on London. He dropped huge land mines by parachute to wipe out whole districts. To make certain the killing of large numbers of non-combatants, women and children alike, he employed delayed action bombs of devilish ingenuity."

The mood of the British public had not yet mellowed following six years of war and the full impact of the destruction of German cities such as Hamburg and Dresden by the RAF had not been fully realised. At somewhere in the region of 42,000, the death toll from the Gomorrah raids on Hamburg in late July and early August 1943 had comfortably exceeded the 30,000 of London for the entire war and yet no mention is made of this aspect of the war that the British public were still happy to conveniently brush under the carpet at this point.

Taking this aspect aside, the photographs offer a fascinating view of a long-vanished London and whilst it would be unfair to reproduce more than a handful of photographs here, an interesting game of "then and then and now" can be played at some of the locations featured in the images.

"Before and After" views of the Cordwainers Hall (from Hitler Passed This Way)

Looking towards St Paul's with the ruined Cordwainers Hall (author's collection)

The same view today (Google streetview)

The above three photos of the Cordwainers' Hall in Cannon Street show how in many cases, new views of London were opened up by the Blitz. The Cordwainers' Hall that was destroyed on the night of 10/11 May 1941 only dated from 1909 but contained many relics and artefacts from the previous Halls on this site. These included chimney pieces and wooden escutcheon pieces which had survived the Great Fire of 1666, only to fall victim 275 years later. Fortunately, other items such as various portraits and silver plate had been stored off site and were therefore saved. The loss of the Cordwainers' Hall opened up a new vista of St Paul's Cathedral and the area is now a pleasant open space that is much loved by City workers as a summer lunch venue.

Another victim of the events of 10/11 May 1941 was the International Headquarters or "IHQ" of the Salvation Army, located then as now, at 101 Queen Victoria Street. On this, the heaviest night of bombing that London saw during the entire war, the firefighters were hindered by a strong wind, which was unusually blowing from the east, rather than the prevailing westerly wind. This was driving the fires westwards along Queen Victoria Street, threatening Faraday House, which at that time housed the largest telephone exchange in the world, including international lines and a radio link with Washington DC. A fortunate change of wind direction saved Faraday House but not before IHQ was consumed by the flames. There was one tragic incident whilst efforts were being made to save the building - one Salvation Army worker rushed out of the building, tripped over a fallen telephone cable and was run over and killed by a passing Fire Engine. There were the usual scenes of quiet heroism here too, with a Salvation Army canteen van serving refreshments to the army of Civil Defence workers fighting to save IHQ and Faraday House. One firefighter, George Woodhouse from Holloway noticed:

"The two Salvation Army lasses were handing out cups of tea and biscuits as if it were a Sunday School outing. They appeared to be completely unaware of the bombs falling all around them. I often wondered what the word 'courage' meant, but on that night, those two lasses had it in abundance."

101 Queen Victoria Street before the events of 10/11 May 1941 (from Hitler Passed This Way)

The ruined site (from Hitler Passed This Way)

The modern replacement (Google Streetview)

Today, 101 Queen Victoria Street is still home to the IHQ of the Salvation Army but it is now a modern steel and glass building, although still on a similar scale to that of it's predecessor.

Sometimes the views of 1940 and today cannot easily be compared. Today, residents of Greenwich and visitors alike are accustomed to seeing the Cutty Sark, the last surviving British tea clipper and a long-term fixture in Greenwich. It was not always the case though; the site in King William Walk was once occupied by a large public house, The Ship Hotel, which was renowned for serving freshly caught whitebait suppers, often complimented with champagne. The hotel attracted a varied clientele, including government ministers and members of the judiciary. It had already begun to fall upon hard times, when on the night of 1 November 1940, it received a direct hit from a high explosive bomb, completely destroying the premises. Today, the site would be unrecognisable and is another example of a new vista being opened up by the bombs.

The Ship Hotel 'Before and After' (from Hitler Passed This Way'

The site today (Google Streetview)

Sometimes though, it isn't possible to provide any sort of 'then and now' perspective, for the simple reason that the neighbourhoods that were bombed simply ceased to exist. There are examples of this in the East End of London but one which is covered in Hitler Passed This Way is particularly poignant.

'The Monster' public house in Sutherland Terrace, Pimlico (from Hitler Passed This Way)

If one looks for Sutherland Terrace in Pimlico today, it does not exist, for it was completely wiped out on the night of 16/17 April 1941. Inspection of a pre-war A to Z Atlas reveals Sutherland Terrace about halfway up the page, running between Sutherland Street and Cumberland Street, forming what must have been a slightly confusing crossroads with Winchester Street. A glance at the present day Google Streetview shows no trace of Sutherland Terrace. Such was the ferocity of the bombing that the terrace was obliterated, complete with it's once famous public house, the splendidly named 'Monster' of which we see 'Before and After' views in the book. It was a bad night in Westminster, with 148 killed, 173 high explosive bombs, seven parachute mines and a community destroyed.

Sutherland Terrace in 1939

The same location today (Google Streetview)

Hitler Passed This Way is still fairly easily available today and provides fascinating images of a bygone London, not only during wartime but also during the more peaceful years immediately prior to the Second World War.

Published Sources:

Hitler Passed This Way - The Evening News, 1945
The Longest Night - Gavin Mortimer; Cassell, 2005

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

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