大象传媒

Keetons Road School, Saturday/Sunday 7/8th September 1940.

I was recently reminded of the traumatic events of that first night of the London Blitz when the other day I saw again that well known photograph of a Heinkel 111 bomber flying over Bermondsey on the afternoon of Saturday 7th September 1940 (see note 1 below). Taken by another Luftwaffe airman flying above his colleague this picture shows clearly an aerial view of the place where I was born and raised and the neighbourhood, the streets, the park and the schools I knew as a child. Also visible in this photograph is Keetons Road School where Hitler鈥檚 Luftwaffe nearly killed me with my mother and father when I was buried there on that first night of the London Blitz. So here is my story of that night which I will never forget.

To set the scene

At the beginning of August 1940, when the school summer break started, I was brought home from Worthing where I had been evacuated in September 1939. The Germans had overrun Europe and were expected to invade England and it was thought that I might as well be home in London with my parents. Here I was to restart at Credon Road school and was expected to follow in the footsteps of my sister Marjorie, 8 years my senior and win a scholarship to St. Saviours and St Olaves Grammar School. For an active boy of 10 this was a mixed blessing as Worthing was nicer than Bermondsey and my foster parents looked after me as if I were the child they did not have. In fact I remained close and in touch with them for the rest of their lives, but that鈥檚 another story.

Life at home in Bermondsey during the summer holiday period of August 1940 was not much fun as I could not go out to play due to occasional air raid warnings and the sounds of guns and bombs in the distance. Home, where I was born in April 1930, was in a ground floor flat in Rotherhithe New Road, property of the Southern Railway, for whom dad worked at the nearby Carriage and Wagon Repair Depot just north of South Bermondsey station. We lived at the end of a long terrace of identical flats (now demolished) that stretched up the road from near the junction with Catlin Street towards Ilderton Road, and we backed on to the railway sidings and shunting yard that served the Bricklayers Arms Freight Depot.

Rotherhithe New Road connected Surrey Docks to the Old Kent Road. It was on a bus route, the 202, and was busy with lorries and commercial traffic which even in those days still included horses and carts. As a child I was therefore never allowed to play out in the street and so when I wanted to kick a ball about, ride my bike or roller-skate etc. I had to go to Southwark Park. Normally my dad would walk me to the park despite his artificial leg, (WW1, 2nd Battalion Royal Sussex, September 1915, Battle of Loos), but in that wonderful hot summer of August 1940 just as I was becoming old enough to go there by myself the frequent air raid warnings and the distant sounds of A.A. guns and bombing kept me at home playing with my Meccano and train sets.

On the afternoon of Friday 6th September mum met me from Credon Road school where I had just re-started and we walked up Delaford Road to the shops at the end of Ilderton Road. Here I remember O鈥橞riens the grocer with a rack of Peak Freans biscuit boxes just inside the door, a marble counter where they cut and shaped the butter into a block with wooden paddles and tea was scooped from a big plywood box and wrapped in paper cones. There was also a greengrocer, a hardware shop, always referred to as the 鈥渙il shop鈥�, which smelled of camphor, carbolic and paraffin and a cobbler where for some strange reason we could get the battery charged for our wireless. Our final call was at the butchers, I believe called Bartletts, to choose a leg of lamb for Sunday dinner and, after paying and surrendering the necessary ration coupons, leave in his refrigerator for collection on Saturday afternoon. Little did we know that Hitler had other ideas.

That Fateful Night 鈥� 7th September 1940

That Saturday was a lovely summers day and as usual dad walked up the road to work for the morning and I felt at a loose end playing in the back yard until he came home for a midday meal. Mum was nervous and uneasy as neighbours talked of air raids in the suburbs which to me seemed so far away and before dad got back from work the sirens sounded but all was quiet for a time. I kept worrying mum by going to the front step to see if dad was coming and when he appeared walking up the road I rushed out to meet him and got told off for being out when the warning had sounded. Mum quickly served dinner but as we were eating the distant sounds of AA guns and explosions could be heard.

After a time the guns in nearby Southwark Park opened up with a mighty bang and we could hear the sound of aeroplanes. It was time to take shelter in the only suitable place we had, a cupboard under the stairs, which also served as a coal store. Dad put on his tin hat and stayed in the front porch with some other men looking up at the sky when a shout went up 鈥渢hey are ours 鈥� look like Spitfires鈥�. This was irresistible and I made a dash for the front door to see for myself and caught a brief glimpse of the sky which seemed to be full of aeroplanes almost directly overhead. My schoolboy interest in aeroplane spotting told me they were not Spitfires and just as I was shouted at to get back inside I yelled 鈥渢hey are Germans not ours鈥� as I scurried back under the stairs. I now realize that one of the 鈥榩lanes that I saw above us that afternoon may well have been the one to take the aerial photograph.

Shortly after this the sunny afternoon was shattered by the crunch of exploding bombs nearby as the strong smell of burning filled the air and the guns continued to pound away as shrapnel clattered on to the roof and the ground. It seemed to go on for ages and mum began to fret that she had to get out to the butchers to collect her leg of lamb otherwise we would have no Sunday dinner. It was tea time before the 鈥渁ll clear鈥� and despite the fires raging nearby and in the docks mum was determined to get to the butchers. Dad and I looked around our home and were pleased to see we had lost no windows although some dust and plaster had been shaken from the ceilings when suddenly mum got back ashen faced and very shaken. Some bombs had fallen at the end of Ilderton Road and the bridge by South Bermondsey Station was damaged. She was turned back by Air Raid Wardens and Police, her leg of lamb was never to be collected and she never forgave Hitler for the loss of her money and meat coupons for the rest of her life.

We had tea during the lull while dad warned that we could probably expect another raid that night and very shortly the air raid warning sounded again. It was still a sunny evening but the sky was filled with smoke from the fires in the docks and the flames seemed to light up the sky more than the evening sun. After a time the guns started again as we heard the drone of aeroplanes. This time it was worse. The bombs were dropping nearer and we could hear the swishing whistle as they fell and explosions shook the house. It seemed to go on for ever as my schoolboy bravado evaporated and I was terrified and shaking whilst my mum wept and dad cursed and shook his fist at the Germans above us. Things seemed to go quiet for a time and then a bomb came whistling down but there was no explosion. Shortly there was a commotion outside with Air Raid Wardens blowing whistles and sounding a rattle, the signal for a gas attack, so we quickly put on our gas masks. Soon they were hammering on the door with the news that an unexploded bomb (UXB) had fallen in the road nearby and burst the gas main; we had to get out immediately, take only some cushions or pillows and our ID cards and ration books and walk to a refuge centre at Keetons Road School.

That walk was a nightmare and my memories of it vivid but jumbled. It was bright as day from the light of the blazing docks as we set off with neighbours but they soon left us behind as dad could not walk quickly over the rubble and fire hoses in the streets. At South Bermondsey Station we were escorted past a UXB and as we walked along Galleywall Road with bombs whistling down and exploding nearby people were calling us from their front door to come in and take shelter. Firemen and Wardens directed us and helped dad over obstacles and I remember one place where a house was hit and bodies were laid out on the pavement. At Southwark Park Road we were sent under the railway bridge and up Drummond Road and after what seemed like hours reached Keetons Road, miraculously unscathed.

At Keetons Road School it was chaotic with scores of displaced people arriving from all over the area and so far as I know no proper system for logging who arrived. Many of the ground floor classrooms were full with people and we were directed to what I think was the main assembly hall where there were no seats and only the floor to sit on. Dad could not sit on the floor due to his artificial leg so he opted to stand at the doorway with the wardens and other men to curse and shake fists at the German planes. It was dark but with little a light coming in from the fires nearby a neighbour spotted us and called to come sit with them propped up against a sandbagged wall covering one of the windows. I don鈥檛 know how long we sat there as the place filled up with people of all ages calling out to identify each other, babies in prams and pushchairs, many crying and wailing with always a hush as bombs could be heard whistling down. Relief as an explosion nearby meant we were all OK set people started chattering again.

I have no idea what time it was, perhaps midnight or later as I sat tired and terrified on the floor with mum鈥檚 arms around me, when a loud hissing whistling noise of a falling bomb brought a hush over everybody. I don鈥檛 remember hearing the explosion but the feeling of the blast trying to push the air out of my chest I will never forget followed by a strange sudden silence as a crushing weight fell in on me. Mum was screaming asking if I was alright and calling for dad as people around us began to call out for help and some were crying and screaming with pain and fear. I was bent double having difficulty in breathing and tried to move but we were buried in sandbags and this caused more sand and dirt to fall in on us. With mum still crying and calling out for dad and the sounds of the agony and suffering around us it was just too awful for words and thankfully I must have passed out.

My next memory is of men calling to us and asking if we were alright as the weight gradually began to lift from me and strong hands lifted rubble and dirt off mum and me. It seemed to be getting light but it may still have been from the burning docks as mum began to become almost hysterical crying out for dad as we were lifted from the rubble on to stretchers and wrapped in blankets. Soon a familiar voice called out and it was dad who had been outside at the time the bomb hit and had suffered burst eardrums and cuts and bruises when he was bowled over by the blast but otherwise was OK. We were reunited at a first aid station in the railway arches nearby where our minor injuries were dressed.

For several days the nightmare continued as we went from various schools and church halls living like displaced refugees not allowed to return home. We were fed bread, soup and tea by voluntary services such as the Salvation Army and WVS and were sheltered in railway arches at night, one of which was set ablaze by an incendiary bomb whilst we were in it. We were all near to breaking point when dad managed, with help from a fireman friend, to be allowed into our home to collect some clothes etc. and we finally escaped to Harrogate where my sister had been evacuated with her job in The Air Ministry. After a few months rest here we eventually went back home to see out the rest of the war and adventures with 鈥淰1 Doodle Bugs鈥� and V2 rockets but that must definitely be another story.

Bill Morris.
January 2006.

Note 1.
See Photograph No C5422 of the Imperial War Museum World War 2 , Collection No4700-11. Battle of Britain. Heinkel 111 over SE London Docklands Sept. 7th 1940.

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