大象传媒

Gazing down at the leaflet I hold in my hands I can't help noticing that the flimsy sheet of paper has, over the years, become rather yellow with age. Nevertheless, the bold words of the heading "Beating the Invader" are, strangely enough, still able to make me feel anxious and rather ill at ease when I study them again.

The very first time that I read the circular was at the beginning of the 2nd. World War. I was then a little girl aged 8 years old and lived in the village of Llandaff, Cardiff, in South Wales. The leaflet had actually been distributed to every household in the country in order to give the general public instructions on how to conduct themselves and carry on in the event that the Germans decided to invade our shores. The message was quite detailed and even signed by Winston Churchill, so for me it appeared to be an incredibly important document, as it indeed was.

I had to make quite sure that everyone in the family saw it and did so by placing it on the dining-room table. When I eventually felt that all of them had noted the contents I hid it in my bedroom drawer. It was in order to bring it out in the event of an invasion and thereby ensure that the family would immediately know exactly how to cope with the situation. No point in leaving anything to chance were my feelings at the time! Even now 63 years later it still gives me the so-called "willies" when I read it and discover that memories of that period in my life rapidly unroll themselves again in my subconscious mind.

It was in 1939 that war with Germany became a reality. During the following months and years ahead until 1945, millions of lives around the world would become affected in one way or another. The people of Gt. Britain had, quite suddenly, to prepare themselves for a long and dangerous conflict. In actual fact the effect on the civilian population was tremendous and their daily lives became the object of radical changes.

In South Wales, as elsewhere across the whole of Gt. Britain, drastic measures were put into effect. For example; food became rationed, likewise clothing and footwear. Rules were formulated for the blackout of all establishments, buildings, homes, street lighting etc., so that no artificial light should be visible to enemy aircraft above. Bomb shelters were built across the whole city. In fact a red brick effort quickly appeared in the playground of Llandaff Church School, where my brother and myself were pupils. Gas masks were to be carried always and gas mask drill became a regular event in all Welsh schools. Incidentally, that drill was something we all hated, but that was beside the point at the time - we simply had to learn how to use a mask just in case!. Identification cards were issued to everyone and most children wore an identification tag around their necks. I personally rather liked that idea without, of course, realizing the irony of it!

Public transport was rather limited and petrol rationing became very strict indeed. If allotted petrol then one was only allowed to use it within the given area. The limits were strictly adhered to. Our car was designated as an emergency ambulance and we were allowed extra petrol in order to be ready for a crisis.

Men were called up for military service although those who were older, such as my father who had served in France during the 1st World War, plus those who did not qualify to the A1 standard healthwise, were directed into the Home Guard, the Observer Corps, the ARP (Air Raid Precaution) or the AFS (Auxiliary Fire Service) etc.

Women replaced the men in factories, particularly in the production of war munitions. Amongst many other tasks they worked on the farms, took over various office positions and were also transport workers. Later on all unmarried women were required to enlist for National Service. Many of these women did a splendid job and handled difficult tasks, in particular the gun emplacements. I mention this as there was a anti-aircraft site situated close to our home. It was often manned by army girls (ATS), whose performance was simply fantastic. It was good to know that both the men and women of the anti-aircraft crews pounded back at enemy aircraft during the air raids. The noise was simply horrific at times, but it felt good to know we were fighting back at the raiders and that Cardiff was not going to be an "easy prey" for them.

There was a steady stream of people flowing into Gt. Britain from the whole of occupied Europe. Many wanted to enlist in one of the armed forces in order to hit back at the Germans who had invaded and occupied their countries. It was good to have them onboard and we stood shoulder to shoulder with our allies against the Germans and later the Japanese throughout the war years.

The Germans had to gain supremacy in the air in order to invade Gt. Britain, but it was a feat they never actually had the pleasure of due to the gallant opposition put up by RAF pilots and ground staff during the Battle of Britain. The men fought back against an overwhelming Luftwaffe force with fantastic courage and fortitude and saw to it that Hitler's planned invasion "Operation Sealion" didn't happen in 1940. It was, however, a very close shave. How close I don't suppose most of us ever realized at the time.

Once the war began our childhood changed dramatically. We stopped looking at the world around us through rose coloured glasses and began to think about possible danger lurking everywhere. Mother constantly drummed into us that we should head for cover as soon as the sirens had given the alert signal. Should there be enemy aircraft overhead when we were walking home along Llantrisant Rd., we were told we had to throw ourselves down in the long grass and remain hidden until the danger was over.

That may sound rather dramatic, but in fact an enemy aircraft zoomed over Llandaff whilst we were at school one day. Once the sirens had given the alert signal most of the smaller children were led out to the shelter first. When we others heard the aircraft coming in low we bolted across the schoolyard and threw ourselves flat on the shelter's cement floor just as the plane opened fire. The bullets slammed down the length of the shelter wall. Luckily they missed us, but the situation felt rather menacing. Once the raid was over and the All Clear signal had sounded the lethal projectiles were carefully brushed up by the school caretaker. a Mrs Pengelly, who then gingerly carried them away and out of sight! Strangely enough I met her grandson at a Millenium school reunion in 2000. It appeared he had since inherited them. They had lain out of reach for many years actually, on the old lady's mantleshelf!

My family became actively involved in the war effort when mother, father and my eldest sister all volunteered and became enrolled as Air Raid Wardens. Mother was also a member of the WVS (Womens Voluntary Service) being able and very willing to care for some of the needs of the bombed-out. My other sister joined the Land Army and spent her summer holidays working on a farm. My eldest brother became a Fire Watcher at the age of 17 and helped to put out fires in the centre of Cardiff when assistance was needed.

The result being, therefore, that when the night raids started there was always one member of the family on duty which was worrying. At the same time one might say it was a positive factor that the wardens always knew where we had taken shelter during an alert. We usually occupied a small cloakroom that lay under the stairs. The room had a sturdy, outer brick wall and the stairs offered blast protection so we felt reasonably safe there. However, had the house received a direct hit I doubt if any of us had had much chance of survival.

The night raids were sordid affairs. Firstly one had been roughly awakened by the sirens and quite often by the time one had reached downstairs it was possible to hear the drone of the bombers nearing overhead. It was an eerie sound that was threatening and unnerving. The anti-aircraft guns would immediately open fire and blast away at the Luftwaffe, while at the same time the whistle of the bombs falling and the explosions were rather terrifying. I particularly remember the night when Father returned home whilst on ARP duty during one of the raids. I imagine that he probably wanted to ensure that all was well with us. From the door opening I noticed that the sky over the city had taken on a strange bright red glow. The colour seemed to rise and fall and I suddenly realized that it was the reflection from all the fires blazing in the centre of Cardiff. One could hear the clamour of the fire engine alarms as the firemen raced to the scene of chaos and destruction.

Overhead the searchlights were closing in on one of the enemy bombers and suddenly the beacons of light had the aircraft pinpointed down. It was an incredible sight to see the merciless killing machine and hunter now reduced to a harmless silver fly. The aircraft appeared to pulsate itself slowly ahead as the engines thrust it forward again and again. The aircraft sought desperately to escape, but it obviously wasn't going to happen.

Right then there was a long silence and loud clicking sounds as more searchlights were switched on in order to flood the skies with light. Gun sights were being set and the waiting was ghastly. At that very moment I ran from the scene as I didn't want to see the aircraft being blown up. Two seconds later the guns burst into life again and the aircraft engines changed sound. The drone became an odd high pitched scream as the plane plummeted downwards. It crashed at Ely and the remains of the crew were buried at the cemetery nearby. Strangely enough it still makes me feel sick to think about it even today.

A few days later and there was another night raid in progress. As usual we sat under the stairs when father, who was patrolling outside, shouted that he needed help. A fire bomb had lodged itself on the roof of our house and was burning furiously, whilst three others had fallen in the garden.

Full panic seized us all and for a moment we must have appeared to run around in circles. While father searched for a ladder we rushed outside with buckets of water and a stirrup pump. In the meantime mother took control of the situation and together we managed to suffocate three of the fire bombs with sand. As for the roof fire, a consolidated effort by the whole family resulted in that incendiary being extinguished as well. Father had perched on the top of a ladder and managed to knock the blazing bomb off the roof with a long broom handle. We others pumped water over the roof fire with every grain of energy we had left. Only afterwards did we all realize how much danger we had actually been in because of the falling shrapnel and enemy aircraft still flying overhead.

Typically, however, we children were out the following day searching for some good pieces of jagged metal shrapnel that lay strewn around in order to barter them at school. What delight when a really good fragment was found, in fact one was almost ready to forget the terrifying stress of the night before!

January 2nd 1941

This was, by far, the date of one of the worst German night raids on Cardiff and Llandaff village. The death roll amounted to over 160 men, women and children and there were many badly injured that night. Over thirty of the victims were killed in a shelter at the rear of Hollyman's bakery in Grangetown. Approximately 34 or 35 persons were inside when the building received a direct hit.

Many areas of Cardiff were hit badly that night and Llandaff was no exception. I remember very clearly that it was a chilly night and there was a full moon shining brightly. One could almost have expected the Luftwaffe to turn up and drop their bombs over us given the favourable conditions. Anyway, that particular day my brother and I had been met out of school by a neighbour instead of Mother. The latter usually fetched us, but that particular day she was preparing a New Year dinner party and had invited a few guests for the occasion.

As a special treat our neighbour took us to visit Llandaff Cathedral before starting to walk home. It had been my suggestion, as for some unknown reason I felt that I had to see the Cathedral once more. Knowing what happened later that evening I now realize just how lucky I was to have had a final look at that gracious and ancient building exactly as it was then. A few hours later a great portion of it was destroyed and burning furiously.

The raid began just after 6.30 p.m., that evening, in fact shortly after our guests had arrived and we sat down to dinner. When the sirens wailed out the alert we all moved fast, but without panic. Some returned to their homes nearby, while our family were all invited over to a dug out shelter in the grounds of a guest's home. There we remained for several hours while all hell raged outside.

It was all like a terrible nightmare, particularly when the bombs were dropped on Llandaff and Llandaff North. The shelter we were in seemed to be hit by blast and we ended up in a heap on the floor. The paraffin light went out and I heard someone shout that the cathedral had been hit and destroyed. That statement simply devastated me. I found it hard to believe and my thoughts were confused. I felt enraged and bitterly upset and couldn't understand what kind of people would want to destroy, kill and maim in such a manner. I really loved that proud cathedral and felt that it was protective of Llandaff village. For me as a child it was meaningful and enhanced all that was good and noble, as well as being steeped in history.

In the days that followed we saw and heard of the death, damage and destruction the German Luftwaffe had wrought that night. If the reason for such carnage was to destroy our morale they were sadly mistaken. After that experience the people of Cardiff and in particular Llandaff, went out of their way to support and help one another in a manner that was quite unique. It made us all proud to be a part of such wonderful solidarity.

As a footnote I might mention that Llandaff Cathedral has since become famous for its interior centrepiece, a parabolic arch upon which is mounted a figure of Christ in Majesty by Jacob Epstein. The cathedral today stands again serene and protective of the village, just as it did during the Second World War before being attacked.

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