大象传媒

Living in close proximity to Southend on Sea for well over forty years, and having been a regular visitor to the town during the preceding thirty years, I have seen many changes, but none quite so bizarre as those brought about by the Second World War.

Before I relate my experiences of a day trip to wartime Southend, it is first necessary to set the scene of the restrictive conditions which prevailed during the early years of the war. The lengths to which the government went in defence of this country were quite extraordinary.

In that first year, all road signposts, and railway station name boards were removed. In fact anything that was considered to be helpful to an invading army. Even a well known poster advertising The Times Furnishing Company was censored since it read 鈥淵ou are now in鈥�.your nearest Times Furnishing store is鈥�.鈥�

A great swathe of England, designated a no-go area, running for hundreds of miles, studded with check points and road blocks, with prosecution and stringent penalties for unauthorised entry night sound like a paragraph from a George Orwell novel, yet this was the situation in 1939.

The exclusion zone stretched from The Wash on the north Norfolk coast to Lyme Regis in Dorset, initially extending inland for a distance of twenty five miles, reckoned to be roughly a day鈥檚 march for an invading army.

Check points manned by police both civil and military were set up on all roads leading into the zone. Check points closes to London were located at Gallows Corner on the A12 at Ardleigh Green Road at its junction with the A127, on Hornchurch Road (A124) at the Hornchurch bus garage, and on the A13 near Rainham at the junction with A125.

At these points, police stopped traffic and pedestrians to inspect identity cards which every civilian was obliged to carry at all times.

Any person who was non-resident or who had no official business in the area was turned back. Police boarded busses to carry out their inspection, and there was a police presence at the ticket barrier on all railway stations east of Gidea Park and all stations east of Dagenham on the two lines to Southend.

The penalties for breaching the cordon were quite stringent. I read of a London woman who was fined 拢1 (a princely sum in those days) for illegally travelling to the town of Upminster three miles inside the exclusion zone.

So the town of Southend along with other coastal towns in the South East became virtually inaccessible t outsiders.

The Westcliff on Sea Motor Services and the City Coach Company whose vehicles passed through the check points on their services between Southend and Romford and Southend and Wood Green respectively carried warning notices to passengers inside their vehicles as follows: 鈥淭he County Borough of Southend on Sea, together with the districts of Rochford, Rayleigh, Eastwood and Benfleet are included in the restricted coastal zone. Passengers travelling to these areas must be residents or hold an official permit.鈥� There was also a footnote to the effect that no refund of fares would be available to any passenger whose journey was terminated by the police or military authorities.

In 1941 with the initial invasion scare receding the restricted area as reduced to a band ten miles inland. Check points were then established on the A13 at Bowers Gifford; at Pound Lane on the A127, and at the Carpenters Arms on the A129 approach road to Rayleigh, leaving Southend and district still in isolation. It wasn鈥檛 until the end of 1942 that the restriction on travel was finally lifted. Initially this was on a temporary basis, and the War Department reserved the right to re-impose it at any time.

In March 1943 I visited Southend during a day鈥檚 holiday from work. It had been three and a half years since my previous visit on our last ever family holiday. Much had happened during the lapsed time. We had survived the blitz 鈥� although we were still experiencing night raids two or three times a week 鈥� and I had left school and started work.

I arrived at Southend Victoria station on the steam train from Stratford. I walked across Victoria Circus and into the High Street. Many shops were closed and boarded up, and there was much evidence of bomb damage. The London Hotel at the corner of Tylers Avenue was in ruins, and a number of shops including the jewellers R.A.Jones and their famous clock had suffered blast damage. There were few people in the High Street and it was quiet. Strangely the most noise came from the swish of trolleybus pantograph arms.

Of the shops still open, the most notable were Garons (then Southend鈥檚 most foremost trader) and Woolworths where I was able to buy a cup of tea and a spam sandwich. Grass grew in places in the street, and there was a strong military presence in the town.

Southend, in common with other coast towns in the south east, suffered from frequent hit and run attacks from enemy aircraft. The Focke-Wulf 190 Fighter/bomber was usually deployed for this purpose.

I reached the top of Pier Hill and stood there gazing out to sea. Many barrage balloons were moored on the mud flats off shore, their stout cables providing a deterrent to low flying aircraft.

I walked along the sea front; the foreshore was lined with large wedge shaped concrete battlements surmounted by coiled barbed wire, making access to the beach impossible. It was probably mined anyway.

The pier had been taken over by the navy, and had become HMS Leigh, 鈥淭oast rack鈥� pier trains plied back and forth servicing the base out at the pier head.

The sea front was quiet and desolate, and the shops, kiosks and beach cafes were closed and shuttered. The only sounds came from the waves breaking on the shore and the dull rumblings of the guns at Shoeburyness. I passed the Borough Hotel 鈥� now closed 鈥� where as a family we had spent so many happy times in pre-war days drinking ginger beer and listening to the music of the accordion. Many of the houses and buildings including the Palace Hotel housed troops.

The Kursaal amusement park was closed and boarded up; the famous roller coaster and caterpillar rides silent and moth-balled for the duration.

I walked to Thorpe Bay Corner, there was more evidence of bomb damage along Eastern Esplanade.

It was a clear day and looking out to sea, I could just make out the distant Maunsell anti-aircraft forts. I retraced my steps to the pier, and continued along Western Esplanade towards Chalkwell. Again all was quiet and desolate; the open air swimming pool drained and partially obscured behind concrete battlements and barbed wire.

There were no air attacks while I was in the town, but walking along that almost deserted sea front I felt strangely vulnerable. I was, of course, only six months past my fourteenth birthday, a child by today鈥檚 standards, although in 1943 I was a young adult, certainly by a bus conductor鈥檚 criteria. I wore long trousers and was therefore deemed eligible to pay full are! Moreover I was no longer a schoolboy.

I walked back to the station for the journey home. It had been an unforgettable day and I was glad to have witnessed Southend in its drab wartime fa莽ade of Ghost Town-0n-Sea

In hindsight it would have been nice to have had a camera to record the scenes for posterity. However, photographic film was unobtainable for civilian use, and in any case my activities would soon have attracted the attention of the police and military authorities in such a sensitive area.

Meanwhile, the end of the war was nowhere in sight, and for us in London, the terrifying prospect of the V weapons was yet to come.

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