大象传媒

Bombs in rural Rutland. Chapter 2

The last bomb to be dropped also exploded. The incident was noteworthy to me because of the fortunate timing. During the preceding time there had been a searchlight battery on the eastern side of the road from Cross Roads farm to the Bloody Oaks in the second field from the A1 main road. The site was very uneven and rocky; and there may have been a quarry on the site at some time in the past. The installation consisted of two Nissen huts, a sound mirror, and two searchlights, one about 45 inches in diameter, the other being some 30 inches in diameter, which I imagine was a backup searchlight. There was an antenna pointing in the direction of another battery that was near Exton. The sound mirror consisted of 4 parabolic horns, about 30 inches in diameter, fitted with microphones at the foci. Two of the horns could be moved in a vertical plane, the other two in a horizontal plane. They were moved by the two operators to maximise the sound of approaching aeroplanes, enabling the searchlights to be aimed in the right direction. Clearly, they became obsolete as the speed of aircraft increased and as soon as radar became common. Thus the searchlight battery was closed down and the personnel left. I had been friendly with the soldiers and had been invited in to look around and look at the searchlight and the carbon arc mechanism used to produce the powerful light. I was given the remains of the copper coated carbon rods that had worn down too short to be of further use. Within a week of the closure the bomb dropped within 25 yards of the installation and 10 yards from the road. The dry stone wall at the roadside was hardly disturbed by the blast. You can imagine the thoughts that passed through my mind concerning spies who, in my imagination, had reported the position of the searchlight battery. The shrapnel I found was of a totally different form. It was thicker, about 3/8鈥� to 陆鈥�, with no razor sharp edges. It had the consistency it seemed to me of poor quality cast iron. I found small pieces only, typically less than 4 inches in the longest dimension.

I wonder if this pattern of random bombing was repeated throughout the countryside. For a 12 and 13 year old my world was limited to how far I could go on my bicycle and be back in time for meals and so on. Within this limitation I reckon I had a good knowledge of what was going on. It was an exciting time for me, there was always something going on and I liked to be in at the action. The services personnel were always tolerant of my presence and I tried not to get in their way. I was always anxious to 鈥榟ave a look鈥� and I was thankful when a serviceman indulged me. I helped a few times with the gift of a fresh hens egg. All the farms had free range hens which often ranged a field or two from the farm, and made nests in the hedgerows. I would find these nests from time to time and if there were a few eggs I would collect one or two for me on the understanding that the farmer did not know of the nest otherwise he would have collected the eggs. I always told the farmer of my finds and I was rewarded by hearty thanks and mostly a slice of home made cake or a jam tart. A just reward it seemed to me, and most welcome. The hens on the Hibbitt farm were the most far roaming, and I remember once telling Mrs Hibbitt about a nest and she asked me if I would go and collect the eggs for her. This seemed strange to me as she had three children, Barbara being in my class at school, George being a year or two younger and John younger still. Off I went with the proffered basket and I like to think that my stock of goodwill was augmented accordingly. This might be the reason that my requests for some meat with which to feed my tame jackdaw were always met readily. The Hibbitts had the village butchers shop and meat was strictly rationed, but the butcher was always able to find a morsel of meat for the bird that flew free. But that is another story.

I also wonder how many of the present inhabitants of Empingham realise that their peace and tranquillity were once violated by the Luftwaffe during WW2. That no damage resulted was fortuitous, but nevertheless the excitement and the memories remain.

I wonder what the response of the present residents would be to the passage of many high explosive bombs passing along Church Street and High Street en route from the airfield at North Luffenham to the airfield at Woolfox Lodge. The bombs were mounted, two side by side on a 4 wheeled trolley about 10 feet long by 3 feet wide with the bomb being about one foot from the ground. A train consisted of some 5 to 12 trolleys pulled by a tractor vehicle. Each bomb would weigh 500 or 1000 pounds and several trains passed per day. I used to watch fascinated as the train came up the hill from the Church towards the Exton Road crossroads and then turned right, each trolley seeming to follow the exact path of the one in front. This was a regular sight in 1943 and 1944, all destined for enemy targets over the English Channel. No precautions were taken for the safety of the villagers, no traffic restrictions were put in place. There was never a local incident or accident with the bombs, which would have been unarmed in any case until shortly before dispatch. It was just an everyday event in those days.

I hope that readers get the sense of excitement that a young boy felt during those times. It was awe inspiring to see the bombs passing through the village as a prelude to the sight of hundreds of heavy bombers massing in the early evening skies enroute for Germany. Sadly, the mementoes of those times have largely gone. Only the memories remain and I have been pleased to share some with you.

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