Lilliput, The Blitz and Mickey the Midget

Mickey Davies aka Mickey the Midget and a family friend (Author's collection)

Regular readers will remember that this article first appeared in March 2016 and was one of those stories that immediately caught people's imaginations. Therefore, last week I was delighted to receive feedback and a subsequent e-mail from Mickey's daughter, Simone Davies, in which she pointed out one or two inaccuracies which had crept into my original story and also kindly gave some more insights to her late father's life.

The main error was in the spelling of Mickey's surname - I had used three main sources for the article - two pieces by the journalist Ritchie Calder and a further article that appeared in Optical Connections magazine. Two out of the three spelled his name 'Davis' whilst the original Ritchie Calder chapter from his book 'Carry on London!' had what turned out to be the correct spelling of 'Davies.' Unfortunately, I took the majority view and decided upon the wrong version but am happy to correct the spelling. The other main problem was the identity of the lady in the above photo, which again in two out of the three source pieces, identified her as being Mickey's wife, whilst in 'Carry on London!' she was not identified in any way. Simone pointed out that the lady in question was a family friend who just happened to be in the shelter when Calder was visiting. Apparently, at some point she was wrongly identified as being Mickey's wife and the story gained legs. Once again, I am happy to put the record straight. The other inaccuracy that I perpetuated was the question of Mickey's height - the story of him being only 3 feet 6 inches tall is another urban myth that has been repeated over the years, when in fact he was a foot taller than this, so as with the other issues, I've set the record straight below.

With Simone's permission, I'm happy to repeat her email below - it clearly (and rightly) shows the pride in her Dad's achievements and offers some fascinating insights into what sort of man he was:

"Anyway, the lady in the picture was a family friend who happened to be in the shelter at the time when the journalist did the story - when and how she got mistaken for my mother I don't know. Also, my father was about four feet four, not three foot four, which is another error that has followed the story for years. I do have my parents wedding photos but most photos, i.e. the Boys' Club etc., and other bits have been given to my nephew who is now the keeper of all the family photos/papers/history etc.

I was very young when my father died but have loads of really nice and also some funny stories told by my mother to me and my sister of my father, the shelter and both of my parents parts in the war (she was in the Local Control, so sending out Ambulances and Rescue Teams to local bombings.) Also the Boys' Club (which wasn't basic but as you can imagine with anything organised by my father, well equipped and very nice.) His political and social work following the war. His Optician 'Shop' was relocated to his study at our home. He was a very much loved and respected man. His shelter visited by people from American ex-Presidents to Clementine Churchill (all signed his visitors' book) and counted amongst his friends following the war were people from Peter Rowntree to the leader of the Labour Party.

By the way, my father was only 43, not 46 when he died.

I hope these give you a tiny bit more insight into my father's life."

The original article, duly corrected and updated, is repeated below. I'm hoping to receive some more stories about Mickey and his life from Simone and if so, I will make a further update so as to share this information.

One of the many pleasures of my job (if you can call it a job) is that friends and acquaintences often become part of an extended detective network, alerting me to finds they have made that are of interest to my Second World War hobby that has now become a substantial part of my living. Such a find came to light recently, when a friend presented me with a delightful little book called Lilliput Goes to War, an anthology of articles, photographs and drawings that appeared in the pocket magazine Lilliput during the wartime years of 1939-45.

I have to confess to previously being only vaguely aware of Lilliput, as it had gone out of print in August 1960, before I was two years of age!

For those completely unaware, Lilliput was one of the many magazines and pictorials published in the pre television and internet age, when the printed media, along with radio and cinema, were the only forms of mass media available to the public. Lilliput was founded in 1937 by the photo journalist Stefan Lorant as a small format, pocket sized monthly journal of the arts, humour, photography and short stories. Apart from Lorant's own work, it was soon able to attract contributors of the calibre of Ernest Hemingway, Osbert Sitwell, HE Bates, John Pudney, Arthur Koestler, Robert Graves and Walter Trier, who illustrated many of the early covers. The magazine soon gained a reputation for its lively articles, illustrations and photographic jokes, which often took the form of juxtaposed or double photographs with humourous captions. It was also known for occasionally publishing what were for the time, quite daring photographs of female nudes.

In some ways, Lilliput became a victim of its own success, for by early 1939, the print runs had become so substantial that paying for them presented a serious cash flow problem for Lorant and he was simply unable to afford to continue printing the magazine. Fortunately, Sir Edward Hulton, publisher of another of the great pictorial magazines, Picture Post, stepped in and purchased Lilliput, which was able to continue publication with the existing editorial staff.

It was whilst thumbing through this charming anthology of wartime journalism that I happened across an article by the journalist Ritchie Calder about a wartime character called Mickey the Midget. This sparked something in my memory as I remembered reading about Mickey in another work by Calder, a 1941 book called Carry on London! which carried a longer piece about Mickey and his work in organising a shelter in London's Spitalfields Market.

The London Fruit & Wool Exchange Building (author's photo)

Mickey Davies, for that was his real name, was an optician in his late twenties, whose shop was reputedly located somewhere close to Spitalfields, in what we now know as the Borough of Tower Hamlets but which in 1940, formed part of the Metropolitan Borough of Stepney. Strangely perhaps, there are no records in local trade directories as to where this business was actually located but according to Mickey himself, it was destroyed by a German bomb on 13th September 1940. Mickey was only 4 feet 6 inches tall and with a mis-shapen back, hence his somewhat politically incorrect nickname but the destruction of his shop enabled him to devote time to helping those in the Spitalfields Shelter. In addition to his optician business, Mickey was also a local social activist and indeed was later to become a Stepney borough councillor and briefly, Deputy Mayor before his death in the 1950s. His activism was very much geared towards helping people in his local community and in wartime, ensuring that their shelter facilities were safe, sanitary and the equal of anything for those provided to the wealthier citizens of London in the West End.

The shelter in question was located beneath the London Fruit and Wool Exchange in Brushfield Street, Spitalfields. The interior of this building has now sadly been demolished to make way for a new development as part of the area's gentrification but the facade still remains. The original market building comprised a cavernous basement, which was capable of holding some 2,500 people in relative safety, although in practice, over twice that number frequently crammed into the space. 

To begin with, conditions were appalling, with almost non-existent sanitation, no proper bedding (people initially slept upon bags of rubbish) and minimal lighting. The floors soon became awash with urine, faeces and other filth. Mickey Davies was appalled by what he found and by the apparent lack of interest, or at best, will from the authorities to get things better organised. Davies was highly intelligent and more importantly, a superb organiser and he quickly became invaluable to the shelterers and a thorn in the side of the local authority in his efforts to improve the conditions for those using the shelter.

Firstly, he set about improving the sanitary conditions in the shelter as well as providing education about hygiene and establishing disease prevention practices in the shelter. He then began to get shelter users themselves to provide First Aid and Medical supplies by organising collections to purchase what was needed. Trained in First Aid himself, he then persuaded local Stretcher Parties to give up their off duty time to tend to the sick and injured in the shelter. He also built up a card index system recording the medical history of each person using the shelter and created what he called a "Passport to Health" amongst the shelterers. Using his many contacts in the profession, he also procured the services of a GP to visit the shelter every night. Proper steel bunk beds were also installed, which ensured that shelterers could get a decent night's sleep.

Lilliput Goes to War (author's image)

He also negotiated with a local Marks & Spencer branch to donate food in order to run a canteen in the basement, the proceeds of which were used to provide free milk for the children using the shelter. Under Mickey's stewardship, the Spitalfields Shelter was transformed and became a coherent community in it's own right, with his medical innovations pre-dating the introduction of the NHS by some eight years.

According to Calder, Mickey's form of common sense community socialism was seen by some, including some of the 'casual' (i.e. non regular) shelterers themselves as "Communism" and these concerns were raised to Calder, himself a sometime user of the shelter. When told that there were "Communists" amongst the Shelter Committee, he replied that "There may be bigamists amongst them for all I care!"

Calder's point being that the accusations of "Communism" were not only absurd but also irrelevant. Provided the shelter was being run correctly and was an improvement on what went before, which it certainly was, then any such accusations could rightly be seen as being largely based on petty jealousies touted by some in local government who should have known better. To be fair, others in government and local government never really regarded Communism as being a realistic menace at this time and saw these innovations by local people as being healthy manifestations of a community spirit.

Perhaps shamed by the actions of Mickey Davies and many other people like him elsewhere, the government instructed local authorities across the country to appoint official Shelter Marshals to control air raid shelters and to ensure that conditions were improved. On the face of it, this instruction made Mickey redundant but the Shelter Committee were having none of this and unanimously elected Davies as their Chief Shelter Marshal. To his eternal credit, the Civil Defence Controller of Stepney, a Mr Eric Adams, acquiesed to the Shelter Committee's wishes and confirmed Mickey in his 'new' official position, which importantly for Davies, without the income from his now destroyed business, was a salaried position.

Under Mickey's direction, a second canteen was established in the shelter, with all profits being re-invested in improving facilities such as the installation of a better lighting system. The shelter became largely self-policing, with shelterers becoming responsible for keeping their own parts of the shelter clean and tidy and for ensuring correct standards of behaviour amongst the shelter community.

Not for nothing did Ritchie Calder describe Mickey Davies as being "Three feet six inches (sic) of reckless unconcern and tireless energy."

After the war, Davies continued to live in the area and was elected as a councillor of Stepney Borough Council in 1949. In 1956, he was elected Deputy Mayor but sadly died later that same year, at the very young age of 43 before he was able to take up the post of Mayor, which would normally have become his the following year.

Lilliput magazine continued, latterly under the editorship of Jack Hargreaves, later of TV's "Out of Town" and "How" fame, until August 1960, when it was purchased and amalgamated into Men Only magazine, before that particular publication became better known for it's soft porn content.

Published Sources:

Carry on London! - Ritchie Calder, English Universities Press, 1941

Lilliput Goes to War - editor Kaye Webb, Hutchinson, 1985

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.

Ghosts of Wartime London

Shrapnel damage in London Street, Paddington

From time to time in the past, I have published various photographs showing some of what clues remain to be seen in London of it's wartime past; the last of these collections appeared in August 2013 so with the start of our regular scheduled walking season just around the corner, it is probably time for some more. Unless stated otherwise, all of the photos shown in the article were taken by the author and may not be reproduced without my express written permission.

Honourable Scars in London Street

Shrapnel scars can be seen all over London, sometimes in some unlikely and out of the way places and an instance of this can be found in London Street, Paddington, alongside the railway station. I haven't had the chance to examine the incident log for the locality as yet but the area was heavily bombed during the First Blitz of 1940/41, so these pockmarks almost certainly date from this period. 

In nearby Sussex Gardens, we can see another reminder of the London Blitz, this time at the Parish Church of St James's, the crypt of which, in common with many churches in the capital, was used as an air raid shelter, in this case one capable of accommodating some two hundred people. The church also housed an Air Raid Wardens' Post and in October 1940, was severely damaged by a Parachute Mine which fell in nearby Barrie Street. The top sixty feet of the spire was destroyed and many of the stained glass windows were damaged or destroyed. Notwithstanding all of this damage, the church never closed, either as a place of worship or as a shelter from Hitler's bombs.

The replacement Baptistry Window includes a panel that features ARP Wardens and searchlights panning the London sky in recognition of the church's role during the Blitz.

Detail from the Baptistry Window at St James's Sussex Gardens

Another reminder of the Blitz located at a church is located at Christ Church in Blackfriars Road and takes the form of a cross inset into the lawn at the rear of the church. The helpful explanatory plaque tells us that on the night of 16th/17th April 1941, the church was struck by incendiary bombs and in the ensuing fires, the blazing cross atop the spire fell onto the grass and reputedly etched the shape of the crucifix into the lawn, where it is now marked by white paving slabs; a simple but effective memorial to the second heaviest raid of the Blitz, which became known to Londoners simply as "The Wednesday."

The mark made by the burning cross at Christ Church, Blackfriars Road

During the Blackout, all manner of street furniture including kerb stones, lamp standards, bollards and even trees were painted with black and white stripes so as to provide a measure of a visual aid during the blackout. Surviving examples of these are now extremely rare but some can still be seen at the old Woolwich Arsenal site in southeast London on the steps of one of the surviving buildings.

White painted "Blackout" steps at Woolwich Arsenal

In my previous articles on surviving relics of wartime London, quite a few shelters have been mentioned but one that didn't get published last time around is this shelter, located at West Kensington Underground Station. This station is located on the District Line and as many Londoners will know, this is one of the earlier parts of the system, constructed using the 'Cut and Cover' system of tunnelling, which leaves the lines relatively close to the surface and therefore not suitable like the deep level 'tubes' for use as Air Raid Shelters. Indeed, West Kensington Station is actually on the surface, so the shelter at this station had to be purpose built. This shelter is not visible to the public and can only be viewed by appointment, so I was extremely lucky to take this shot a number of years ago. 

Entrance to the shelter at West Kensington Station

A more unusual reminder of wartime London can be found at the erstwhile Blewcoat School in Caxton Street, Westminster. Opened as a school in 1709, the building remained in this use until 1920, when it was taken over by the National Trust and used by them until quite recently as a gift shop. Now in use as a wedding shop, during the wartime years, the building saw somewhat more mundane use as a warehouse and was latterly used by the US Army for storing field equipment. Like all military establishment, however lowly, sentries were posted and an indication of the levels of boredom encountered whilst guarding a warehouse can be seen today in the shape of bayonet marks made by the sentries in the brickwork beneath the window frames. There is also other graffiti of the period that survives but you will have to come along on my Westminster at War walk in order to view this!

Bayonet marks left by bored US Army sentries

We close this brief look at wartime remnants by taking a look at the Greenwich Foot Tunnel which was constructed between 1899 and 1902, opening to the public in August of that year to provide a free and reliable method of commuting from south of the Thames to the then busy docks and wharves on the Isle of Dogs. Whilst the main part of the tunnel is obviously quite deep beneath the Thames, either end runs at a more shallow depth beneath the foreshore and in 1940, during a low tide period, the northern end of the tunnel was pierced by a bomb. The hurried repairs were formed from a thick steel and concrete inner lining to the existing tunnel which substantially reduces the diameter for a reasonably short distance and this repair can still be seen to this day.

Bomb damage repairs to Greenwich Foot Tunnel

There are many more reminders to be seen of our Wartime past and next time we shall take a look at some of the memorials and monuments to this period in our history.

The Wartime Underground

A one-man shelter for use at railway depots (author's photo)

As most of our British readers at least will know, this year marks the 150th anniversary of the opening of the London Underground system. In November 2010 this blog examined the role played by the Tube in providing shelter for Londoners from Hitler's bombs during the Blitz and beyond. However, with this impressive anniversary of service in mind, perhaps now is a good time to take a look at the other, perhaps lesser known, but equally vital contributions to the war effort played by the London Transport in general and the Tube in particular.

The first major involvement, both by the Underground and by London's familiar red buses and at that time, equally familiar trams and trolleybuses, was to assist in the Herculean task of evacuating over half a million people, mainly schoolchildren but also expecting mothers, the mentally ill, the elderly and infirm, blind persons and long-term hospital patients from the built up areas of London to the safety of the countryside. Whilst the bulk of this task fell upon the main line railways to fulfill, the Metropolitan Line which in those days ran out to Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire certainly played a full part in moving thousands of children away from central London. Even more surprising was the part played by London's buses in this mass movement; the red double deckers undertook journies as far afield as Oxford, Cambridge, Northampton, Eastbourne and Weston super Mare - a far cry from their usual routes.

This massive task over, London's road and rail transport could concentrate on the vital task of moving millions of Londoners to their war work, as well as the more mundane but equally vital role of helping Londoners and later the thousands of visiting servicemen and women to enjoy their much reduced leisure time in the capital. Services, especially in the suburbs, finished much earlier than we are accustomed to today. This was partially due to the blackout; people did not want to get caught away from home in a bombing raid if they could help it. Another reason was that people worked incredibly long hours and simply did not have the time, energy or inclination to go out very often. In central London, things were slightly different, especially slightly later in the war when visiting servicemen of all nationalities flooded into the capital whilst on leave.

Handley Page Halifax Mk III (RAF photo)

Behind the scenes however, the London Underground was involved in the War Effort in ways that people could not imagine. Before the outbreak of war, London Transport was involved in a massive works programme of extending the tube network, some of which was incomplete and had to be placed on hold 'for the duration' as the commonly used phrase of the time went. Some, like the extension of the Central Line eastwards from Liverpool Street to Epping and Hainault, resumed with the coming of peace and are familiar to us today but others, like the planned extensions of the Northern Line to Elstree and Bushey, proved to be stillborn - the freeze on new housing due to the imposition of the Green Belt rendered this scheme obsolete and it was never completed. Much of the infrastructure was already in place and it was part of this abortive extension to the network that was to make a massive impact on the British war effort.

A depot for the extra trains required on the Northern Line extension had already been built on what would today be called a 'green field' site in Aldenham, Hertfordshire and it was here as well as at a new purpose built factory at nearby Leavesden that London Transport's Underground staff were to be involved in a venture completely alien to them - that of aircraft production. Staff were drawn from the various engineering departments - Underground and Road - and they were given inductions at the Handley Page company to get them accustomed to the industry, although as engineers, these people soon understood what was required and in May 1941, the first Halifax bomber built by London Aircraft Productions, as the new company was called, rolled off the production line. Over seven hundred would follow, the last being handed over in April 1945. Looking ahead to peacetime, the jig built production techniques learned by London Transport's engineers in aircraft production would prove vital in the production of the 'RT', London's first standardised, mass produced bus, of which nearly seven thousand were built. Moving ahead even further, the experience gained in working with aluminium was crucial in the design and production of the iconic Routemaster bus and moving further ahead still, the new Bomber Command memorial in Green Park, features an aluminium roof made from salvaged aluminium from a Canadian Halifax bomber, shot down in Belgium in 1944. A fitting memorial not only to the 55,573 Allied airmen lost whilst serving with Bomber Command but also to the men and women of London Aircraft Productions.

Bomber Command Memorial showing the reclaimed roof (author's photo)

Another piece of London Underground land, not then in use but today used regularly by thousands of unknowing passengers, are the tunnels of the Central Line extension between Leytonstone and Gants Hill; nearly five miles of tunnel, which although physically complete on the outbreak of war, had yet to be opened for public use. This subterranean world was to see a remarkable transformation into a improvised, bomb proof factory, managed by the Plessey Company, manufacturing aircraft components. It was an amazing set-up, complete with miniature railway for transporting the components, three stations at Wanstead, Redbridge and Gants Hill for the employees to enter and exit the works, as well as cloakrooms, first aid facilities, a canteen and mess rooms capable of serving sixteen hundred people all being fitted into this confined space.

Apart from these temporary wartime expedients, London Transport's regular bus, train and train overhaul works were adapted for war work. In peacetime, London's underground trains were overhauled at Acton Works but in wartime, in addition to a greatly reduced train overhaul programme, Acton turned it's expertise to all manner of new disciplines, such as overhauling Sherman tanks, constructing bodies for ambulances and breakdown lorries, repairing engines and generators for naval landing craft and converting Sherman tanks to 'Duplex Drive' - i.e. able to operate amphibiously in upto ten feet of water and which proved invaluable during the Normandy landings. Acton also converted tube trains into 'Refreshment Specials' in order to feed the shelterers in the tube and undertook much work in repairing trains damaged by the Blitz, including one carriage that was rebuilt using two undamaged halves of severely damaged carriages being welded together to form a 'new' undamaged unit. Staying on the rails, London's Tram Overhaul Works at Charlton, being situated close to the Woolwich Arsenal, turned it's hand to producing ammunition and parts for guns.

Sherman Duplex Drive Tank (IWM Photo)

Apart from these 'behind the scenes' works, London Transport's staff also played a part in the front line. As a result of the 1938 Munich Crisis, London Transport had formed a Territorial Army Unit - the 84th (London Transport) Heavy Anti-Aircraft Regiment and on the outbreak of hostilities, they rallied to the colours and served with distinction in Norway, North Africa and Italy and formed separate batteries from busmen, tram and trolleybus staff as well as railway and engineering staff. London Transport was truly at war.

London's Underground and it's staff performed a myriad of duties during the Second World War but undoubtedly the happiest duty performed was right at the end of the war, when the buses and tube trains played their full part in bringing the children back home. London Transport was at last able to rebuild and resume it's love/hate affair with Londoners. During the dark wartime years, 22,580 members of staff had served in the Armed Forces, Merchant Navy and Civil Defence, whilst some 245 had been killed by enemy air attacks in London in addition to those killed in action whilst serving with the Forces. 

Published Sources:

A History of London Transport - TC Barker & Michael Robbins, George Allen & Unwin 1974

London Transport at War 1939-1945 - Charles Graves, Almark Publishing 1974

The Shelter of The Tubes - John Gregg, Capital Transport 2001

Is Your Journey Really Necessary?

This was the question asked of all potential travellers during wartime before they set out on their journey. During the Second World War, the British public transport network was hard pressed as never before or since. Whilst the railway network was far larger than that of today, the companies were under manned having lost many men to the fighting services and as the 'Phoney War' period progressed into the Blitz, the network was frequently disrupted by enemy action with railway and tram lines blocked, stations bombed and bus routes diverted or suspended. But our railway and bus companies rose magnificently to the challenge time and time again and in this article, we shall examine one or two examples as to how they coped.

The 'Big Four' railway companies, the Southern Railway, Great Western (GWR), London & North Eastern (LNER) and the London, Midland & Scottish (LMS) together with the London Passenger Transport Board were all effectively nationalised on 1st September 1939 when they were placed under the control of the Railway Executive Committee. In practice, the day to day management of these companies remained under their own control with the Committee basically forming a co-ordination role ensuring that the companies made the greatest possible contribution to the war effort.

The first contribution came on the same day as the formation of the Railway Executive Committee, when the mass evacuation of schoolchildren was put in place. In the space of four days, over half a million people, mainly children but also expectant mothers, the blind, the mentally ill and the disabled were moved out of London. Many of them by double decker buses and Green Line coaches but many more by train. Some were moved only relatively short distances. For example, many Bermondsey schoolchildren were evacuated to Worthing in Sussex, with those from Greenwich and Woolwich being sent to Reigate in Surrey. Some went much further afield to places such as Torquay and Newton Abbot in Devon where life to the children must have seemed strange indeed in comparison to the crowded and noisy streets of London. There was even a scheme to evacuate children to Canada by sea but this was stopped abruptly when one of the evacuation vessels, the 'City of Benares' was torpedoed and sunk with heavy loss of life. This particular method of evacuation falls outside the scope of this article but perhaps we shall return to it at a later opportunity.

The next logistical challenge came in May 1940 with the retreat of the British Expeditionary Force and their French allies to the Channel ports. The German advance had occurred so rapidly that the Allies had fallen back, at times in some disorder to Calais, Boulogne and once these ports had fallen, to Dunkirk. There were also later evacuations from ports further south such as St Nazaire, Brest and Le Havre but it is the evacuation from Dunkirk that has become etched in history.

On 21st May 1940, the Southern Railway's Operations Superintendent had attended a meeting at which he was asked to make provision for the movement of 300,000 troops to be disembarked at various South Coast ports. As a result of this meeting, all four of the railway companies were asked to provide 186 ten coach trains for the purpose of moving these troops. The Southern provided 55 of these trains and all of them were carefully marshalled onto the down lines to the south and southeast of London. The movement of troops began on the 21st May on a modest scale when 24,000 soldiers were moved using the initial 55 special trains but it was on the 27th May that 'Operation Dynamo' as the evacuation was called began in earnest. It was to continue for another nine days and the troop movements involved make truly staggering reading. Instead of day trippers, the station at Margate handled 38,000 soldiers with Ramsgate dealing with 43,000 and Folkestone taking 35,000 troops and 9,000 civilian and other evacuees. However, it was Dover which bore the brunt, despatching an amazing 181,000 soldiers in 327 special trains. All of these trains were stopped alternately at either Headcorn or Paddock Wood where the soldiers were fed, watered and provided with additional clothing. This was a remarkable effort; the Southern Railway had helped to rescue an army.

The fall of France brought London within range of the Luftwaffe's bombers and once the Blitz started, the railway companies and London Transport faced new problems and new dangers in keeping their services running. The use of London Transport's Underground stations as public shelters is now well known but perhaps less well known is the fact that the Government had originally intended that the Tube should not be used for public air raid sheltering purposes at all. In the event, it was sheer common sense on the part of the general public that dictated that they should seek to use the system and faced with overwhelming numbers of Londoners seeking refuge, the authorities could do nothing to stop them. Faced with this situation, the Tubes were quickly adapted as shelters, with 79 stations being used for this purpose as well as disused parts of the system and also extensions that had not yet opened for use. These shelters were equipped with chemical toilets, bunks, medical facilities and canteens and proved very popular with the locals. An early problem and one which showed human low life at its very worst was the appearance of ticket touts, who purchased tickets for the shelters and then tried to sell them on to the genuine shelterers at vastly inflated prices. These people were dealt with harshly when caught but the problem was never fully suppressed. The Tube was not completely immune from bombing - Bounds Green, Trafalgar Square and Balham Stations were all hit with some loss of life - but for the most part the Tubes were safe and secure refuges for Londoners.

Above ground, there were many tales of heroism from railwaymen and women. The night of 10th/11th May 1941 saw the last big raid on London and also the heaviest. At Bricklayers Arms Depot in southeast London, Driver Len Stainer and his Fireman, Jim Foote had just signed on for duty to take the 12.53 am train from Cannon Street to Dartford. En route to Cannon Street, they had stopped their engine at Borough Market Junction in order to clear incendiary bombs from the line before proceeding. If this wasn't enough, they then continued into Cannon Street and arrived just as bombs began to fall on that station. A large fire was started and Driver Stainer and Fireman Foote, together with the crew of another locomotive decided to pull out of the station in an attempt to save their trains from catching fire. As they moved onto the bridge over the River Thames, the men heard the sound of even more bombs coming down and the men instinctively ducked for cover on the footplates of their engines. It transpired that a bomb had struck the boiler of the other crew's engine, turned part of their train over and blasted their own engine. Fortunately, the crew of the other engine were unhurt but in an act of incredible bravery, Len and Jim then tried to extinguish the fire on their own train before being beaten back by the intense heat. Len Stainer then uncoupled his engine from the burning train and pulled back across the bridge to the south side, where the four men watched the station burn until dawn. To quote Len Stainer "It was just as if Hell had been let loose."

Later in the war, although the bombing had diminished, the railways played their part in the invasion of Europe by running troop trains galore and transporting all manner of ammunition and equipment to the Channel ports in preparation for for D-Day. Even after the invasion, locomotives and personnel were sent across the Channel to France to get the ruined French rail network up and running once again.

Even then, it was still not quite all over as the Terror Weapons in the shape of the V-1s and V-2s caused further death and disruption, especially in London and the Southeast but finally victory came in May 1945.

It should be remembered that even on VE Night, there were still over 12,000 people sheltering in London's Tube stations and the Deep Level Shelters but the final happy duty for the beleaguered transport system was to bring home the evacuated schoolchildren from the country back to London. The war was over and a long period of rebuilding and re-equipping was to follow.

Published Sources:

London Transport at War, Charles Graves - LPTB 1947
SR150 The Southern Railway, David St John Thomas & Patrick Whitehouse - David & Charles 1988
The Great Western Railway, Patrick Whitehouse & David St John Thomas - David & Charles 1984
War on the Line, Bernard Darwin - The Southern Railway Company 1946
By Rail to Victory, Norman Crump - The London & North Eastern Railway Company 1947