大象传媒

WW 2 鈥� Coventry Blitz

Introduction
I was about 2 years old when my family moved from Darlington, Co Durham, - where I was born in 1931 - to Rugby in Warwickshire. Regrettably, my mother and father were divorced just before the outbreak of the war and my Father moved to Coventry, leaving my Mother to bring up six of us. He later asked for two of us to go and live with him and his new partner; that was to be my younger sister and I. Shortly after the war broke out we had to return to Rugby, as my father was called up to serve in the RAF. His career was a short one however, as it was not long before he was discharged as unfit on medical grounds. I then rejoined him but this time with my middle brother. To try and create a family atmosphere he asked us to call his partner Mum, reluctantly we agreed. The house we were living in was on Grangemouth Road, Radford. I do not remember the house number but it was on the west side of the road and it ran parallel to the large Daimler works which became a main target for the Luftwaffe. At the time, my Father worked at the Standard works where I believe the production had changed over from cars to making spitfires or at least parts for them, I鈥檓 not too sure which. At this point I would like to pay tribute to my Mother, who at only 5 foot nothing, was the first woman at the BTH works Rugby, to operate one of the large overhead cranes. It is of further interest to explain that during her time there, she worked directly for Frank Whitle whilst he was working on his jet engine project. This had extensive coverage in the local press after the war and particularly on her 90th birthday.

The first bombs
I shall never forget the first bombs to be dropped on Coventry. I was upstairs in the bathroom having a wash at the time. If memory serves me right, it damaged or just missed the Roxy Cinema which I believe was showing 鈥淕one with the Wind鈥� at the time. I recall that there was an abandoned factory style building adjacent to the cinema, perhaps they were trying to bomb that. I am sure of one thing, I was really scared, and in my fright I tried to hide under the wash basin. Fortunately on this occasion it was just an isolated incident, a mere sample of what was to follow.

The Blitz
In the first heavy raid, on the night of 14/15th November 1940, the bombs were dropping virtually before the siren sounded and it was not long before our house was badly damaged, with us all taking up cramped refuge under the stairs. I shall never be able to forget the sound of the German bombers and the hell that erupted when the bombs started falling. Whilst history records the devastation inflicted on the City Centre, in our area it was clearly evident that they were intent on trying to destroy the Daimler works which was only a short distance away, and we were in the thick of it. You could hear the next wave of bombers coming in before the present wave had cleared the area. As the night wore on the time lapse between each wave grew longer and longer. Each time we were praying it was the last but just as our hopes were building, that dreaded sound would come droning in yet again. History records in depth the details of the raid and whilst memory gets a little hazy, the events are never forgotten by those who experienced the horror of the event.

Shortly after the bombing started, Father observed that the front door had been blown open and went to try and fix it. A few moments latter, there was an enormous explosion and a crashing sound came from the kitchen area. 鈥淢um鈥� went to look and found the front door down the hall at the entrance to the kitchen. She clambered over the door into the kitchen looking for my Father but he was nowhere to be seen. It was then that she heard a mown and on investigating, found my Father pinned to the floor under the door. He was rather battered and shaken but otherwise, no bones broken. He again tried to wedge the door in place but in the end had to abandon the attempt due to the blast waves from bombs dropping close by.

This now left the under stairs door open to the exposed hall, at which point he decided that it would be more comfortable and safer if we were in the rear dinning room under the heavy dinning table which he surrounded with a three piece suit. It did prove more comfortable than being cramped under the stairs; especially for him after his dramatic encounter with the flying front door, which left him quite sore.

As the bombing continued, my brother and I became concerned about the bombs that whistled, crumped and shook the ground but did not explode. Father reluctantly explained about time-bombs and how they would be timed to go off any time after they had been dropped. Whilst we appreciated his honesty, it was not very reassuring when we started counting them and contemplating the implications. However, he did further explain that some could be dud bombs that probably would never go off provided they were properly handled by specialist bomb disposal teams.

At some time during the night there was one particularly close explosion, amidst which there was that dreaded whistles and crump which shook the house but no explosion. My Father became very agitated and whispering to 鈥淢um鈥� and then left the safety of the 鈥淪helter鈥�. He later returned very exhausted, dirty and covered in sweat, but with a relieved look on his face; in fact he was almost grinning. We later learnt that he had suspected a time bomb had dropped in the back garden and had gone to investigate. He was presented with a large area of the garden that had been disturbed with a small mound in the centre. He suspected a time bomb had fallen there. Without thinking of the danger and futility of his actions, he started digging with his bare hands and shortly came across the rounded section of what he thought was the top of the fins. Without thought for his own safety and the impossibility of him being able do any thing to the bomb, he just took hold of it in both hands and pulled with all his might. You can imagine his relief when he fell flat on his back with the garden sieve in his hands. (This explains the hint of a grin on his face when he returned). Apparently, he sat and cried with relief for a while, before composing himself and coming back into the house. It was latter assumed that a bomb exploding in the front road had projected a large clump of earth over the top of the roof into our garden causing the disturbed ground.

The aftermath
The bombing continued into the early hours of the following day with longer periods between them. Eventually they stopped and Dad went out to access the damage. Half the roof was off, the windows were gone, and the front and back doors needed re-hanging. He decided to send my older brother to the local shops and see if he could get new hinges and locks. Whilst the bombing had now stopped, we were soon to discover that the dangers were not over. Whilst making a start on the front door, Dad saw a Policeman coming up the road going from house to house. Once he got close enough to call to him, he asking what the problem was. The Officer replied by drawing Dads attention to an alleyway between two houses almost opposite us. I remember him walking down the path and a little way down the pavement to the right. He exchanged a few words with the officer, who by now was close enough without him having to shout. He returned quite rapidly with a very worried look on his face and just said, 鈥淧ack our things we鈥檝e got to evacuate, now!鈥� He later told us what he had seen. It would appear that the Germans had dropped mines by parachute so that they would descend slowly and not bury themselves like normal bombs. They contained a large explosive charge and by detonating above ground, had a far greater blast effect. What he had seen, was a mine that had come down into the alleyway, clearing both side walls the parachute had caught on the chimney of one of the houses, leaving the mine dangling and the detonator suspended, just six inches off the ground. Had the mine exploded our house and many others around would have certainly been destroyed. Needles to say we were soon packed and on our way, taking with us only what we could carry between us.

Next door to us lived a family by the name of Batman 鈥� no I鈥檓 not joking. He was in the Fire Brigade and as a result had been called out having to leave his family to cope on their own. Once they realised that the bombing was not just an isolated attack, they decided to take refuge in an Anderson Shelter located in their back garden. They where just approaching the back door when there was an almighty explosion and they were blown back into the house. Once they had dusted themselves off, they proceeded to the shelter but changed their minds when they got there, it was flattened. Had they gone to the shelter earlier they would have all been killed. It was a very lucky escape for them. There was however, an amusing side to the event. Not only had the blast wrecked our dividing garden fence, it had entered our garden shed door, which had been blown open earlier, and had blasted the shed apart leaving the four walls neatly laid aside and the roof back sitting in the middle of the wreckage. The damaged shed came in useful later on, to board up the windows.

A scene that stands out in my mind, is the appearance of our neighbour, Fire-fighter Batman when he returned home just before we left. He was filthy black and completely exhausted. Dad asked how the City had stood up to the bombing. He just shook his head and said 鈥淲hat City鈥� and disappeared into the house, shaking his head, too exhausted to get into any further conversation.

Whilst we were at the back of the house we observed the damage to other properties around us. The house just over the back from us had been hit by a stick of bombs and was completely demolished. Sadly there were no survivors. I remember my Father commenting, that the houses at the back had not stood up so well to the bombing as houses in our road and that they must have been built by a different builder.

We eventually made our way out of the area and arrived in the City centre. I cannot remember for the life of me how we travelled there but I do remember we all started to cry once we saw the devastation. It was just unbelievable. The stench of still smoking debris with Firemen still damping down. Everywhere there was the sight and sound of once familiar buildings, being demolished because they were a safety hazard. There in the centre of the City stood the large burnt out shell of Owen and Owen; which if memory serves me right, was the biggest store in Coventry. Again if I recall correctly, it was one of the first department store in Coventry, if not the first, to have an escalator installed. How we as kids used to love to go shopping there hoping that we would use the escalator as many time as possible. The next horror to come was the nearby Cathedral, just another smouldering shell. And nearby, right in the centre of Broadgate, a Bomb Disposal Squad is digging out an unexploded bomb in the very position the Bobby would stand to direct traffic at this major crossroads. A short while latter Dad had me clinging to a lamppost as the King and Queen pass by to inspect the damage to the Cathedral. The images are still vivid in my mind to this day.

I have no recollection of the details of the procedure but we were eventually allocated accommodation on Broad lane, and I remember the name of the house to this day, it was called 鈥淵e Old Brace鈥�. It was a beautiful house with large gardens front and back with fruit trees and bushes. At the rear were a conservatory and greenhouse with grape vines, and a large tomato house at the bottom of the garden. My father was in his element and kept us boys busy too. We enjoyed our time there and we felt a lot safer as there was no heavy industry near us and we were far enough away from the City Centre not to be directly effected by the second heavy raid. That was another night to remember and never to be forgotten. I think my recollections are correct when I believe that whilst there were not so may aircraft involved or so many bombs actually dropped, the tonnage was equal or greater than the first raid. From outside our house were able to see in the distance, the effect the attack was having on the City. It was just like bonfire night but on a much larger scale. You could see when fresh bombs were dropped, the sparks and flames would shoot high into the sky with the continual crump, crump and the brilliant red glow in the night sky. We boys should have been in bed but it was impossible to do so, knowing what was happening to our lovely City. We were only young but we really did love living in Coventry.

Despite our love for Coventry, the one thing we did hate was the Smoke Screen. Those horrible drums with there tall chimneys, placed at intervals along the road and lit at night. The burning oil gave off a thick black smoke, making it difficult for aircraft to see clearly. They served there purpose but when they were burning, you had to keep all windows closed and even then the smoke would seep in, making breathing uncomfortable. I also remember another trick the local authorities had. I understand that they discovered there were German Agents setting off marker flares in sensitive areas, so they set flares themselves on common areas. However, I do remember hearing the story that they got the colour of the flare wrong and it didn鈥檛 quite have the desired effect. There was another remarkable scheme they came up with and that was to drain a lake. I am not sure where it was but it was to the south of Coventry. In later years, whilst serving with the Army in Germany, I met German bomber crew members who had taken part in the raids on Coventry. It was not easy at first, meeting up with those who had tried so hard to destroy us. But being as a soldier myself, I had to accept that they were only doing their duty, as I would have to do if I found myself in similar circumstances. One of the pilots was telling me, how on a moonlight night, such as the night of the first Blitz, they would pick up the reflection of the moon on the lake and then turn so many degrees, which would give them a heading, spot on for Coventry. So yes, the authorities drained the lake to upset the German navigators and from all accounts, it worked. Regrettably, the damage had already been done, as there were no further mass bombings. One good thing to come out of the lake drainage; the fish stocks were saved and transported elsewhere, much to the delight of fishermen at some other location.

Schooling was another problem whilst we lived in Coventry. One of our schools was taken over by the Civil Defence, another got bombed and another was so over subscribed that we only went to school half days; mornings one week and afternoons the next. I remember at one time, my bother and I were so fed up with school, that we played truant for a whole term. This was not too difficult then, with the fluctuating population at the time. Mind you, we did get a good old wigging when we were found out, it took a long time to live down and painful to sit down too for a while. My Father believed in 鈥淪pare the rod, spool the child鈥�.

I do have some happy memories for this period in time that particularly stand out in my mind. The first was to see Tommy Handley (Hope I鈥檝e spelt his name correctly) He was live at the Hippodrome, together with Ramsbottom and Enoch. 鈥淲e three of Happydrome, working for the 大象传媒鈥� etc, etc, quite a laugh; if you can remember this little ditty they sang, then you are really giving your age away. The other was seeing the film Pinocchio, I think if memory serves me right, it was at a cinema near the pub called the Phoenix on Broad Lane. With all that had been going on this was a real treat.

As Coventry began to recover from the bombing the inevitable construction of prefabricated buildings started popping up, where once individually impressive architecture once stood. Drab nissan huts were now dotting the landscape and on some bombsites the basements had been cleared and converted into water storage tanks with which to fight future fires. In many parts of the City, the water mains were now above the ground, disappearing below ground only at road junctions.

My brother and I didn鈥檛 stay in Coventry much longer, circumstances dictated that we were to return to our Mother in Rugby and my two youngest sisters moved to live with our Father. My next visit to Coventry was not until 1949 when I signed on for the Army at the recruiting office there. It was not until 1954 that I again visited Coventry. Having just returned from service in Singapore I was eager to locate my Father and his partner鈥檚 parents who we loved and indeed, willingly called Gran and Granddad. Their name was Wanklin and I never did know their first names, she called him Pop and he called her Shuck of all things. They used to live opposite us on Grangemouth Road until they also had to move, to where I do not remember now. This was not to be a happy visit, as I was to discover that they had both died and so had my Father. Granddad was an interesting guy, he used to work at Coventry Climax and proudly displayed a photograph of himself along with the team that built their first diesel engine, which I believe was the first to be built in this country. The photo also showed the engine on its test bed which he claimed was not capable of registering the high horse power rating being generated by the engine.

Conclusion
These have been my own recollection of the events as well as I can remember. The reality is that the Germans had planned the raids well in advance. The blitz on the 14/15th was codenamed 鈥淢oonlight Sonata鈥� and involved about five hundred bombers drawn from all over occupied Europe. It was to be the heaviest raid on our country, heavier than any other single raid, even on London. There also exists the rumour that intelligence were aware of the raid. The story involves the breaking of the German codes but doubting if they had decoded correctly the limited information they had, together with a reluctance to disclose to the enemy the fact that they were now able to intercept and decode German transmissions. What we do know for sure, is that about one thousand people died, thousands more suffered the trauma of the event and the aftermath and whilst a beautiful new city has risen from the ashes, in my eyes it cannot match the beauty of the old city. But as the saying goes 鈥淏eauty, is in the eye of the beholder鈥�.

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