大象传媒

This story is by Doug Sanderson.

For several months after the outbreak of war, the bombing and the air raids that everyone had been expecting failed to appear. The 'Phoney War' was finally over when the bombing of many of our major towns and cities started and the people of Sheffield began to wonder when it would be their turn to endure the horror and dangers brought by the German planes as Hull, Liverpool, Manchester and other towns suffered. The frequent air raid warnings with their haunting wailing note, followed a little later by the 'All Clear' had lulled the people of Sheffield into a false sense of security so that the populace went about their normal business with the theatres, cinemas and public houses doing a brisk trade.

As a youth of eighteen, expecting to be conscripted into the Royal Air Force in a matter of weeks I was in the city on that fateful Thursday evening, December 12 1940, the first of the two nights when Sheffield bore the brunt of the might of the Luftwaffe. Studying accountancy at evening classes in the buildings of the Sheffield Technical College at the corner of Leopold Street and West Street, students had been informed that, should an air raid take place, we had to stay in the building until 9.30 pm. Anyone viewing the building today, many years later, can still see that the ground floor windows are only partly below street level so that the classrooms could hardly
be said to ideal air raid shelters. The tranquility of the clear cold moonlit evening with the wail of the warning sirens which brought any thoughts of study to the twenty or so students in my group, to an end. For a few brief minutes after the sirens sounded, a hush seemed to descend on the city, broken only by the faint sounds of the whistles of the air raid wardens as they eneavoured to clear the streets and get people into the shelters. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the faint drone of aircraft and the distant sound of ack-ack guns as they hopefully filled the air with shrapnel. With all lights extinguished in the classromm, students peered round the edges of the blackout curtains at the night sky that was becoming transformed with a kaleidoscope of searchlights as they criss-crossed the sky searching for enemy aircraft.

So far, the evening appeared to be similar to others when bombers passed near to Sheffield heading for Manchester or Liverpool, but the quiet of the night was shattered as nearby ack-ack batteries opened up, followed almost immediately by the sound of a tremendous explosion which caused windows to rattle, saved from breaking no doubt by the sticky tape criss crossed on the panes of glass. This was the first of many bombs which fell in and around the city centre during the next two hours or so until 9.30. The lecturer announced that he was going to try to get home to Wadsley. Seeing no point in staying in a building that was likely to be hit at any moment, I asked if I could accompany him, a request that was readily accepted as I got the impression tht he didn't relish the journey alone.

Whilst inside the building the noise seemed loud, it was nothing to the crescendo of sound we experienced upon opening the outside door to make our way towards his car parked some yards away in the school yard. Every few seconds a tremendous bang from an exploding bomb threatened to damage ear drums and the constant noise from the bursting anti-aircraft shells made a cocophony of sound that brought visions of Dante's inferno. As if the exploding bombs were not enough, much damage was done by the many thousands of incediery bombs which started fires in what seemed every building around, filling the air with dense clouds of choking smoke. From time to time another sound could be heard, as if it was raining pebbles, until it was realised that it was metal fragments of exploding shells falling to earth.

With so many buildings apparently being damaged, I felt that the school had been extremely lucky to avoid being hit and as my companion edged the car onto the main road we knew that our problems were far from over. We had travelled less than fifty yards in the smoke filled atmosphere before an air raid warden suddnly appeared in front of the car bonnet waving his arms and shouting that the road ahead was closed and that we had to turn back. This caused something of a problem as we now had to move on to the side streets in an effort to make our way in the general direction of Hillsborough and Wadsley. Even when the road appeared to be clear, we were constantly forced to stop and manoevre boulders out of the way in order to make progress. At last, we gradually made our way from the city centre, conditions began to ease, with damage seeming less severe. My comanion, now able to relax a little after what had been a nightmare journey, said little as I indicated that he should stop at the next junction to let me alight. I think we both knew that luck had been with us that night.

Next morning, with transport in a state of chaos, I was faced with a long walk in order to get to work at Hadfields Ltd, Vulcan Road, Tinsley and, being axious to see just how much damage had been done, I decided to walk via the city centre. In the cold light of day one could see how many buildings had suffered, with smouldering ruins on all sides. Buldings that had managed to escape being bombed had still suffered from damage by blast with shop windows shattered and everything open to the elements. Approaching Snig Hill was a sight that sent the blood racing as bodies could be seen lying in the street. A close look thankfully identified them as window dummies blasted into the street from nearby shop windows, I made my way up toward the carnage on Fargate where rescue services were still at work on the building that had once been Marples and was the scene of so many casualties. Walking towards The Wicker, a short distance from the cinema, I came upon a strange sight that only wartime could bring. A double deck tram, thankfully empty at the time, had been sliced in two with the top deck lying alongside, upside down, whilst the lower deck was undamaged with every window in tact.

Much od Sheffields industry towards the East End was spared the worst of the bombing as most of the bombs fell around the city centre and on residential areas, causing only minor disruption to the manufacture of the many items of war that were so desperately needed.

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