大象传媒

1940 The Blitz

Two weeks in September, Dagenham, Essex

Background

Dagenham, to the east of London, was home to a number of important factories:- Briggs, May & Baker and Ford among them, and therefore, a target for the Luftwaffe. Hornchurch aerodrome was nearby. My father, Gibson Mitchell, was an electrician who worked at Murex, a specialist metallurgists, located on the banks of the Thames at Rainham, Essex. He worked shifts and was also trained by the fire brigade to head the fire-fighting team at the factory. My brother John, aged 8, had been evacuated to Stamford, Lincolnshire, and was living there with my grandparents, Aunt Winnie and her baby daughter. My aunt's husband had been killed earlier that year while serving in the RAF. I, Gillian, was 3 years old and my sister, Winifred, only 2 months old. Jack, to whom reference is made in the 20th September entry, was my uncle, a soldier in the Scots Guards. He fought in the North African campaign later in the war and was wounded there. All other names in the diary refer to friends and neighbours in Dagenham. At that time we had no shelter and my mother was convinced that the safest place in the house, a 3-bedroom terrace, was in the cupboard under the stairs. (She had seen pictures of bomb-damaged towns and cities in which the only parts of houses still standing were the staircases!) We eventually had a Morrison indoor shelter installed in the front room as my mother did not want an Anderson in the garden; with good reason as things turned out - see entry of Friday September 20th.

The diary entries, 12 September to 23 September 1940, were written by my mother, Jennie Mitchell, and give an insight into day-to-day life at that time. The gas had already been cut off because of earlier damage to local mains -my mother was cooking over an open fire in the dining room.

The Diary

Thursday, September 12th, 1940

I must write an account of our first real taste of this war. Gillian, Winifred and I retired to our "cubby hole"; last night at 8.35 p.m. when the sirens went. Gib brought down the spring interior mattress belonging to the single bed and arranged it from the passage into the dining room and slept on it - luckily. Soon, we heard the pulse of German bombers passing near - one after another at short intervals. Terrific bursts of anti-aircraft fire began and continued all night. The children were sound asleep - so was Gib, and I had just got off when a terrible noise woke me. The shattering of glass and falling of tons of rubble roused the children. I opened the door and called to Gib twice before he answered - I was afraid when he didn't reply the first time. The dust was choking. Gib got up and looked out to see the damage. He came back and reported that the two end houses in Cambeys Road were no longer there. (This all took place at 4 a.m.). It was 5.30 a.m. or thereabouts when the all clear sounded and I could see for myself the absolute havoc. All our back windows were blown in, both doors smashed and the back rooms were full of broken glass, bricks and dust. The back bedroom was in a terrible state. Glass and dirt over everything. Indeed the whole house had a thick coating of white dust. It was a problem where to start first. The "shelter folk" were all right and relieved to hear that we were. All the back gardens were scenes of devastation, broken fences, bricks, woodwork from the demolished houses, pieces of torn clothing and shoes, etc., etc. Our roof was minus many tiles and well supplied with broken ones. The A.R.P. workers were soon on the scene, and at the moment are busy removing all dangerous tiles and spreading tarpaulin over the roofs. We've had visits from various inspectors and the windows will be boarded up. There are many houses in worse state and families have had to be found accommodation elsewhere. We doled out tea first thing to neighbours - our fire had been on all night. Then we breakfasted the Jarvis family whose house is uninhabitable. Gib worked with a will, breaking out all loose panes and generally clearing up. It is now 1.30 p.m. and he has fallen asleep on the easy chair. Gillian occupies the other, and baby is asleep in her pram. It will take us a long time to get straightened up, but we are fortunate in having no furniture or anything else indoors damaged. No-one was hurt in this catastrophe - it is wonderful.

Friday, September 13th

It is Gib's birthday - the strangest ever, I should imagine. Last night, no warning had sounded by 9 p.m. but we prepared to spend the night in what shelter we had. All our neighbours went, as though it was the right and proper thing, to their shelters underground. I wonder how many people in the neighbourhood slept in their beds - not many I am sure. Soon the nightly serenade began, followed closely by the siren. The noise was frightening. A horrible s-c-r-unch, scrunch as though a giant in heavy jackboots was stamping down and treading households into the ground. I could hear no anti-aircraft fire, though Gib assures me there was plenty. It seemed as though were left defenceless and the giant could work his destructive will on us. Twice during the night - at 12 a.m. and then at 2 a.m. Gillian woke me and said "Gunfire, Mam". She must have been pretty badly frightened by that bomb, though she didn't seem so at the time. Perhaps the sight of the havoc it caused troubled her subconsciously. Winifred only woke to be fed. I thank Heaven that she is such a contented good baby. With Gillian we will have to be extremely patient till she regains her usual high spirits. This morning at 5.30 when Gib had to get up for work, I got up and looked outside. I expected to see the place flattened and was astonished to find it much the same as we had left it yesterday - save that it was raining. We've had no rain for weeks, and now that the roofs are damaged it is rather distressing. What a small thing to trouble us! No wet has come through the back where the tarpaulin is stretched, but I noticed the ceiling in both front bedrooms had patches of wet showing. I hope the tiles at the front are seen to today. We had built up the fire, so were able to make tea, which we drank by the light of candles - the electricity was cut off yesterday. The waterpipes were not hurt, or we'd have had no water. It is 7.30 a.m. now and both my bairns are sound asleep. Gillian has great faith in our "cubby hole" and wouldn't hear of going up to bed - so hear we all are. Have just had letters from Mother and Winnie - M's written on Monday and W's yesterday. All is well at Stamford. They have no idea that Dagenham has been in it which is all to the good. What queer thoughts pass through one's mind in the still watches of the night! I've pondered long on this senseless struggle going on and it came to my mind that all humanity is at fault. There is no truly perfect being on earth, some more evil than others. So, I suppose all this agglomeration of evil comes to the surface at varying times and results in war. The siren is sounding again, and I will leave this now.

It is now 1.30 p.m. and we've had two warnings, one still on. There was a terrific whoo-oosh a short while ago and I've been told it was a time bomb at the end of Foxlands Road. It sounded just like "our bomb" the other night, and I fully expected to see the falling debris and dust when I poked my head out. I was frightened - it is a war of nerves all right - and Gillian is decidedly nervous. I've filled a bucket with water as I was told a water main had been damaged, and there's a possibility of the supply being cut off. We are getting on - gas, electricity and now water! We live in stirring times! I'm afraid to leave our shelter as Gillian keeps calling out to me, and if I take both youngsters out before the All clear, I might not be able to get them back in time should the need arise. Gib will come home to a nice house. I had intended getting as ship shape as possible before his return. And I have a nice pile of baby's clothes to wash. The tarpaulin is flapping in the wind. Every sound is amplified these days and nights. I suppose we are keyed up to hear everything possible - and imagination plays a big part too.

Saturday, September 14th

It seems as though I shall make most of my entries in this book under the stairs. (Ha, I spoke too soon. The All clear has sounded.) This above was written this morning and since then, we've had several warnings. Many of our fighters took off during the day, so there must have been big air battles somewhere. All during last night, there was an almost continuous anti-aircraft barrage. It is apparently the new defence measure round London - "the ring of steel and fire". It was comforting to hear the terrific gunfire, which quite effectively drowned the throb of enemy machines. We all slept pretty well though it must be delightful to get into a proper bed in the knowledge that peaceful slumber awaited one. The roofs have been re-tiled today and if I get the scullery door put back so that it can be opened to let in some light, things will look brighter. The scullery is in a very dirty state due to the other night's activities, but we can do very little to remedy matters when the only light we have is an oil lamp. Doubtless when all the roofs along this side are repaired, we'll get our electricity again. I baked a piece of sirloin today - Mrs Boxer told me how. An oven barred shelf was arranged over the fire and resting on 2 bricks, and the joint was cooked on this in a large saucepan containing plenty of dripping. I also baked some potatoes in the fat, and we had them and cold meat when Gib got home at 7.30 p.m. Gillian, baby and I were in our shelter dining, as the warning had gone. It seems strange to have a house with 5 nice large rooms in it, and yet we spend most of our time in the cramped space under the stairs. It is between 9.30 and 10 p.m. now, and I hear the gunfire has commenced.

Every night, I long to see the next day's dawn.

Mr. Hatton arrived back home from Manchester this evening. He said they'd pack up and leave here altogether. Their house has suffered worse than ours, and quite a lot of their furniture etc. has been spoilt. Mr. & Mrs. Guite departed this morning for the North, and Mr. Needs has looked in vain for a house in Romford. The Jarvis family leaves tomorrow for Chadwell Heath. Gillian has played in Mrs. Boxer's garden most of the day with Pat and Derick. She seemed a bit more cheerful, but is still strung up. I do hope that doesn't have a lasting effect on her. I wrote to Stamford today. Mother will be worried as she has not heard from us since Monday. [Continued in part 2]

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.