大象传媒

WAR TIME DAYS

PART 1

When the war began and the prospect of evacuation was discussed, we decided we would stay together and face whatever came along.

Harry was a special constable and was also chairman of the Housing Committee. Although he was so busy, I saw more of him at this time because he hated driving in the blackout and would, whenever possible, try to arrive home before dark. During raids he would check the garden for incendiary bombs and return inside with the inimitable remark, 鈥楢ll quiet on the Weston front.鈥�

I was not particularly frightened during the raids. Mother would bring me downstairs and make up a bed in the corner of the room well away from any windows. We had an air raid shelter in the garden with a beautiful rockery on the top, ablaze with flowers, but unfortunately it was always 8鈥� deep in water.

Harry recalls the early days of the War:

鈥淛ust before the Second World War, a firm in Belgium, Jaspers of Liege, offered their stock to my company. I went personally to Liege, where I met the Managing Director of Jaspers, who told me he was anxious to dispose of his whole stock of machines. There were forty machines, all new and all first class quality, equipped with essential tooling.

He pointed out to me the German tanks travelling backwards and forwards along the border, and told me with a certain amount of annoyance that, according to the English newspapers, those tanks were made of paper and plywood.

鈥榊ou can take it from me that they are real and ready for work,鈥� he said. 鈥業 experienced the First World War, and I want to sell the machines and see the money in a London bank.鈥�

We talked from 11.00 one morning until 5.00 the next and eventually we arranged a deal.

As he predicted, it did not take those 鈥榩lywood鈥� tanks long to cross the border into Belgium, but the Germans did not get the machines; they were in Coventry, helping to make the parts that eventually put Hitler out of business.

About the same time, the premises of the Rex Acme Company in Stoney Stanton Road were put up for sale. They were reasonably built premises, with an office block upstairs facing Stoney Stanton Road and at least 24,000 square feet of covered space. They were put up for auction on several occasions without reaching the reserve price and in desperation the auctioneer had a sale of the fixtures and fittings with instructions to get the best available offer for the premises.

I attended the sale, and afterwards, Mr Henry Butcher, the auctioneer, had arranged for a room to be reserved at the Red House Hotel opposite the premises so that he could meet his clients. He told me he was disappointed that a reasonable offer had not been made for the premises, and asked me if I would make one, as the owners were anxious to dispose of the place as quickly as possible. I made him a fairly low offer, never expecting it to be accepted. However, it was, and although I had no use for the building myself, I was able to lease a major part of it to a Major Burrows. He was developing bumper cars, which were later most successful on fairgrounds. Major Burrows was a very energetic man and was succeeding well with his business until one of the first air raids on Coventry, long before the Blitz, when just a few random bombs were dropped. One of these bombs hit the premises, and Major Burrows took his business elsewhere. It was a strange thing that during almost every raid, before, during and after the Blitz, a bomb found its way to these premises. It almost seemed as if it was a target. Nothing happened to the land during the war, but immediately afterwards it was developed, with five or six factories being built there. One of these was occupied by the Newdigate Engineering Co Ltd, of which I became a Director.

My memories of the Blitz in November 1940 are many. It was 7.0 o鈥檆lock in the evening of the 14th when the first few bombs fell, but we had no idea of the magnitude of the operation, which was planned for that night. Of course, later the world was to learn of the disaster it was for the City.

In my own residential area of Earlsdon, there appeared to be parachutists dropping from the planes and we thought the Germans were experimenting with a guerilla raid. We soon found out that they were land mines, which, on landing, had a disastrous effect. My own street took its fair share and one family was completely wiped out as they sat at the table having their evening meal.

The activity intensified to such a degree that it appeared to be an invasion from the sky. In addition to the land mines and incendiary bombs, there was shrapnel from our own guns and in spite of the fact that we had thought nothing like this could happen to our beloved City, every defence organisation was mobilised in a matter of minutes. Although every one gave of their best that night, the following morning the centre of the City was reduced to a smouldering ruin and there was much loss of life with complete streets in the suburbs being destroyed.

At the time I was Chairman of the Housing Committee. The following morning my first duty was to contact the City Architect, Donald Gibson, later Sir Donald Gibson, and he and I decided upon first aid repairs. There was no time to call a committee meeting or ask for estimates as there was urgent work waiting to be done. The City was divided into 18 divisions covering its 18 wards. A clerk of works was in charge of each division and building contractors with knowledge and the proper equipment, was given so many houses in each street to cope with whatever repairs were necessary.

Each contractor was assured that he would be reimbursed for materials and wages paid, and a 10% working profit was promised to him. This arrangement worked admirably, although there were one or two who tried to take advantage of the situation. These were dealt with by prison sentences and large fines.

Supplies of equipment and materials were rather difficult at this time and we were extremely short of slates. We organised a few lorries to go to mid-Wales to collect as many slates as they could and we also acquired a considerable number of tarpaulins from the army. Where houses were of a similar design, we took materials from completely damaged houses to help patch up the others. We also built out of surplus materials a repair depot for storing building materials and also household possessions until their owners were able to claim them. There were some 40,000 houses damaged or completely destroyed, plus other buildings such as factories, libraries and schools.

It requires very little imagination to appreciate that to bring order back into the City was a mammoth task, but everyone without exception was willing to play their part and volunteers could be found for anything. Equipment and materials were shared out and everyone, regardless of age, worked together. There was a wonderful spirit. King George VI visited Coventry just hours after the Blitz, realised the enormity of the problems and gave us considerable encouragement.

For me, as an eight year old, November 14th 1940, started as just a usual day. I was off school with a bad cold, and as the next day was my mother鈥檚 birthday, I made some jellies and, with some help, a cake. These were prepared and left on the kitchen table. I had also embroidered a picture as a present, which had been framed and wrapped up. Mother always prepared supper during the afternoon, often small pies that could be heated up quickly during a raid. For some reason, the kitchen was always considered a danger area.

Father arrived home about seven that night, just as the siren sounded. He was not on duty, but we soon realised that this was to be a 鈥榖ig one鈥�. Our neighbour (whose wife, expecting their first child, had gone home to Liverpool, further north, and therefore considered safer!) came in for supper, which he did quite often. A girl who lived with us to help mother, returned from the afternoon spent in town to state that as far as she could tell, the whole centre of the town was alight.

Father phoned through to the Police Headquarters to see what he was to do and was told to stay put and patrol around our area.

It was during one of these patrols that he reported seeing parachutes coming down. We thought there were men attached to them but unfortunately they were land mines. He had just come into house with this news when the room was filled with a bright light. Later, I described it as like the arrival of the Blue Fairy in the film Pinocchio. I saw the film 50 years later on television and still feel it was a perfect description.

I do not remember hearing any noise, but after the bright light there was darkness, broken glass, dust and wood everywhere. The banisters were hanging down and if one looked up to the landing, the brilliant red sky could be seen. My mother grabbed a coat from the hall and wrapped me in it and we struggled into the front garden as quickly as possible as we were afraid the house might collapse on us at any moment. We just stood in the front garden and gazed around. The whole sky was red and everything around us seemed to be in complete ruin.

Owing to the state of the flooding in our shelter, we went into next door鈥檚. That also had several inches of water on the floor. We sat on benches with our feet on boxes, from 9.00 pm until 6.00 am next morning.

Father was out and about throughout the night with our neighbour, but we never asked him what was happening. The incessant scream of the bombs and the roar of the anti-aircraft guns told us enough. The drone of the planes kept on and on. I nursed my little Scottie dog, rescued by father from under the dining room table.

The dog trembled all through the night, and for the first time, I was frightened. The sight of my safe home reduced to rubble and the incessant noise hour after hour left a feeling I shall always remember.

With the all-clear at 6.00 am we stumbled into the garden to bright moonlight and frost over everything. The house was unbelievable. The jelly moulds, in those days made of tin, were later found at the bottom of the garden completely flattened, together with the front door which had been blown through the house. We had velvet curtains in the room where we had been sitting and the broken splinters of the glass had reduced them to ribbons. Apart from a slight cut on mother鈥檚 leg, we were all completely unscathed and incredibly lucky.

There followed a time of much wandering. We stayed in a bungalow near Allesley, which belonged to a cousin away in the Army. Another family, also homeless, was already in residence so we had two rooms each. Life was very hard for my parents, but at 8 years old I spent a blissful time on my uncle鈥檚 small-holding, discovering the joys of hay-making with rake and pitchfork, looking after chickens and learning much about the countryside.

Although really my war had ended, Harry had still much to do.

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