大象传媒

We had our own coal fired power station at Vickers in those days, Cavendish Park Power Station, and there was always a large reserve of coal in stock to keep the station in operation. Loss or reduction of electrical power from Cavendish Park Station through lack of coal would have had a serious effect on production.
The coal used was a fine grade and as it lay in great heaps it was subject to
spontaneous combustion so it was important for the coal to be kept damp. We spent many a Sunday under the watchful eye of Vickers Fire Brigade happily spraying water over the coal heaps. It was dirty work but quite exciting.
There were four Fire Watch and ARP Control Posts around the Works, each with a lookout on one of the tower cranes. Our lookout was on the 250 ton Giant Hammer Head Crane at Devonshire dock. Sadly this crane is no more. It was a fine piece of civil engineering built by Sir William Arrol Company just before the war.
When the German bombing raids began on London, Liverpool, Glasgow and other cities and towns in 1940, we in Barrow often had air raid warnings. At first we dutifully went down to the office basement at work or, if at home, we sheltered under the stairs or in the brick shelters in the street. But there were so many false alarms that after a while we just did not bother. Some pundits used to theorise that the bombers could not find Barrow because of our geographical position under the lee of Black Combe.
We had the odd bombs of course but in May 1941 they found Barrow all right and we had a week of heavy bombing raids. There was a fair amount of damage to the town but comparatively little damage to the Works. The first night of this period was a Sunday night. I was on duty wearing my 鈥淔ire Watchers Hat鈥�. It was normal to do a four hour watch but that night my mate Jim Silvie and I volunteered to do the full eight hour watch on the 250 ton crane.
Access to the crane was forbidden during working hours but there was no night shift on that night so we were able to roam all over the crane right up to the jockey crane on the top. We collected our rations and climbed the crane to the roller path some 150 feet above the dockside. On the roller path on the dockside side there was a wooden hut with bunks and a sound powered telephone connected to the Control Post below.
The rations consisted of sandwiches and pork pies. The pies were war-time standard and not very appetising. We usually ended up dropping them down on the warships fitting out below and listening to the bedoom noise they made as they hit the decks. We thought it was all great fun.
It must have been about midnight when the air raid sirens sounded. We were not bothered after so many false alarms. But then the searchlights came on. They formed a ring around Barrow and we appeared to be in the middle, stuck up in the air like a bullseye. Then the incendiaries began to fall and it was not fun anymore.
We had to report any incidents to the Control Post and give their bearings. To do this there was a simple plane table on the landward side of the roller path with a movable sighting arm that you could direct at the incident and read off the compass bearing. So we dashed to the plane table, took a bearing, dashed back to the hut and rang up Control. Stick of incendiaries dropped in the town near Buccleuch Street Power Station, bearing South West. 鈥滺ang on while we plot it on the map.鈥� Pause. That bearing puts the incident on Walney Island. Go and check again.鈥� So we went back to the plane table and realised in our panic that we had read the wrong end of the sighting arm. We should have given the bearing North East. We were on our way back to the telephone to give them the correct bearing when the bomb fell. Conventional bombs make an unmistakeable whistling noise as they fall. This one, as far as I remember, did not make any noise. Jim told me afterwards he had not heard anything either. There was talk at that time of parachute bombs which fell silently. Maybe it was one of those. But whatever it was, some primitive instinct alerted us and we flung ourselves face down on the plating of the roller path. I landed with my eyes looking down through a gap in the plating and I saw the bomb explode in a massive fireball on the Copper Shop at the foot of the crane. Mercifully no-one was working in the Shop that night.
Our little hut had been picked up and shaken like a child鈥檚 toy and the telephone was out of action In retrospect it would have been good to have stayed and watched the raid but we were far too scared to stay and we decided to get down to safety. How we got down in the dark I do not know. When we went back in the morning we found the access ladder down and the handrails which left the roller path on the landward side of the crane were all twisted and broken with the blast.
Jim and I reported to the Control Post. John Warwick who was in charge said he had not expected to see us again.
Later that same night after the raid, Jim and I relieved the two Fire Watchers on the 150 ton crane at Buccleuch dock. Again the sirens sounded but this time nothing happened.
I remember a strange thing on the 150 ton. I must have been light-headed, I suppose with the excitement of our close shave and lack of sleep, and for some reason I decided to walk along a narrow beam no more than twelve inches wide which spanned the two main arms of the crane. It was an extremely foolish thing to do as there was a sheer drop of 200 feet on either side.
The bomber was obviously aiming at the 250 ton. Cranes were a prime target. Loss of any crane would seriously disrupt the construction of warships on the slipways and the fitting out at the dockside.
A few days later on another night air raid, a bomber hit and destroyed the 150 ton crane at Buccleuch dock. Sadly the two Fire Watchers on the crane were killed.
There was an important electrical sub-station in the base of the crane and the following morning I was sent down from the Drawing Office to take some details so that arrangements could be made to recourse the machinery and switchgear in order to restore essential supplies for fitting out. The fallen crane, once standing so proud, was now a pitiable sight. It looked like the death throes of a mythical mighty dragon.
Later that week Wilf Platt, who was Chief Fire Officer arid in charge of APR, came round the works and offices looking for volunteers for fire watching duties as many had cried off.
George Hart, Alan Wilson and I reluctantly volunteered for that night and in the evening, after work, we reported to the Control Post at Caveradish Park. George and I were sent up a sort of tower above the Post. We could not see anything but we could hear many explosions and we had to guess where they were. I don鈥檛 think we did much good.
A little later, when it was quiet, we were ordered out on patrol by the Section Leader. He was, I think, a machine operator and he was delighted to have three drawing office types to command. All three of use went back through Kings Gate and just as we got back into the Works, the bombing started again so we looked around to find somewhere to shelter.
Scattered around the Works were air raid shelters which had been built in the Boiler Shop. They were made of heavy steel plate, conical in shape and about the size of a sentry box. There was one of these shelters nearby so we rushed over to it but when we opened the door I swear sixteen blokes fell out
In the middle of 1944 I had to give up the Fire Watch because of the increasing demands of the Home Guard. For instance I note from my diary that in July we did nine consecutive all-night guard duties each after a day鈥檚 work (There is a little note in my diary at the end of that period that simply says 鈥渂....y tired!鈥�)
Another cause I joined was the 鈥淒ig for Victory鈥� Campaign. My friend, Walter Jones who was an Air Raid Warden, and I took an allotment at Roose. We had no experience of gardening but we managed to grow potatoes, parsnips, peas and beans. I suppose it all helped.
There was always overtime to be worked and holidays were somewhat restricted. In the winter months there was night school so altogether they were busy and stirring years. When I did have any spare time it was my practice to head for the hills to find peace and solitude.
During those hectic times I always found people kindly and willing to help, perhaps because we were all in adversity together. Maybe it would be a good thing for our present day selfish society to experience a spell of adversity from time to time
GEOFF CAIN

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