Air Raid Wardens
In September 1935, the British prime minister, Stanley Baldwin, published a circular entitled Air Raid Precautions (ARP) inviting local authorities to make plans to protect their people in event of a war. Some towns responded by arranging the building of public air raid shelters. These shelters were built of brick with roofs of reinforced concrete. However, some local authorities ignored the circular and in April 1937 the government decided to create an Air Raid Wardens' Service. (1)
Initially, volunteers tended to be male, middle-aged and middle-class. "The unskilled working class provided the fewest, probably more because of transport problems and the physical strain of their daily occupations than for lack of patriotism. ARP posts were manned by three to six wardens, though some were considerably larger. It was suggested that London alone needed 200,000 wardens, of whom some 16,000 would be full-time and paid (£3 a week). However, progress was slow and volunteer numbers were disappointing. (2)
The ARP system was criticised by newspapers for wasting money: "We are constantly hearing stories of patriotic citizens volunteering for full-time service as wardens, neither wanting nor expecting payment, and finding themselves placed on the ARP Committee's payroll. There seems to be little room to doubt that many posts have been filled by paid wardens when there were volunteers available... it will be an abrogation of the great voluntary spirit of the movement... to turn public-spirited volunteers into hirelings." (3)
Others accused wardens for being paid money for very little work: "Thousands of men, many in good jobs, are drawing £3 a week as Air Raid wardens; hundreds of girls and youths are getting good pay for doing nothing; fantastic sums are being paid to motorists for merely putting their vehicles at the disposal of the ARP or ambulance work; demolition squads are standing in the streets twenty-four hours a day twiddling their thumbs; auxiliary fireman are also on the job; 'log-rolling' and intrigue are rampant." (4)
John Langdon-Davies argued in 1939 that the British government should reassess its policy on ARP: "If we are to become ARP minded, we must realise that the peace-time life to which we have become reconciled must be altered fundamentally. Real ARP does not mean digging a large number of shelters and then going on living as we have done heretofore. It means altering our cities and our way of living in them so that at a moment's notice they may become part of the front line trenches in a war thrust upon us by the air bandits of international Fascism... The object of air bombardment is not to hit military objectives but to attack the nerve centres of the man in the street. We must prepare our defence now by letting everybody know exactly what to expect from an air raid and by training them so withstand the nervous shock such a raid entails." (5)
The ratio of ARP wardens varied from city to city, borough to borough, but for most the standard was ten wardens' posts to the square mile. About nine-tenths of ARP wardens were part-timers who came on duty after they finished their day's work, and one in six was a woman. The warden post might be a shop, hall or basement, or even the front room of one of the wardens. The area would be divided into sectors with perhaps three to six wardens controlled by a senior warden in each sector. It was essential that a warden knew his or her sector and was often called their "patch". A good warden would know the habits of the people who lived in their sector so that when a bomb fell the emergency services could be directed at once to where survivors might be buried. (6)
The task of co-ordinating all civil defence planning was then given to Sir John Anderson, a senior civil servant and the former Governor of Bengal. In February, 1938, he was elected as the Conservative Party MP for the Combined Scottish Universities. The Anderson Committee was first convened in May 1938. Senior military personnel from all branches of the armed forces were called upon to advise the committee. These officers duly outlined all military bases, industrial areas and cities that were likely to be attacked. (7)
Anderston wrote a pamphlet, The Protection of Your Home Against Air Raids (1940) where he gave advice on the services provided by the ARP: "If air raids ever come to this country… do not hesitate to ask for advice if you need it. A local Air Raid Precautions organization has been established in your district and Air Raid Wardens have been appointed to help you. For any help you need, apply to your Warden or to your local Council Offices. All windows, skylights, glazed doors or other openings in parts of the house where lights are used must be completely screened after dusk so that no light is visible from outside. All lights near an outside door must be screened. Clear the loft, attic or top floor of all inflammable material – paper, litter, lumber, etc. – to lessen the danger of fire and prevent fire from spreading." (8)
The government made money available for materials for local authorities to build public outdoor shelters, although they had to foot the bill for the construction costs. New buildings had to incorporate spaces for shelters, and employers with a workforce of fifty or more in a designated target area were obliged to provide shelter accommodation for their employees (they would receive government funding to help pay for this). Once war started the government urged local authorities to provide purpose-built public shelters, above ground heavily protected brick and concrete constructions capable of holding up to fifty people. (9)
On 1st September, 1939, the staff for the local control rooms had been called to their posts. From this point until almost the end of the war, the machinery of civil defence would remain permanently alert. Angus Calder argues in the The People's War (1969): "The wardens... were exposed to abuse and ridicule. To working-class men, the wardens often appeared to be no more than lackeys of the police, a traditional enemy. A proportion of bossy and bad tempered wardens gave the whole service a bad name. With other civil defenders they trained on duty and staged mock 'incidents' in the streets. The spectacle of grown men play-acting in public still further diminished confidence in ARP; citizens were enlisted as air raid victims and painted for the part." (10)
Winston Churchill took a keen interest in these arrangements. On 1st October, 1939, he wrote to Neville Chamberlain, the prime minister, to express his concerns: "The A. R. P. (Air Raid Precautions) defences and expense are founded upon a wholly fallacious view of the degree of danger to each part of the country which they cover. Schedules should be made of the target areas and of the paths of flight by which they may be approached. In these areas there must be a large proportion of whole-time employees. London is of course the chief target, and others will readily occur. In these target areas the street-lighting should be made so that it can be controlled by the Air Wardens on the alarm signal being given; and while shelters should be hurried on with and strengthened, night and day, the people's spirits should be kept up by theatres and cinemas until the actual attack begins. Over a great part of the countryside, modified lighting should be at once allowed, and places of entertainment opened." (11)
Barbara Nixon, an actress, became a voluntary (part-time) warden. "By the time that I joined, the public was already grumbling that the full-time Civil Defence personnel were a waste of money - a set of slackers, after easy jobs... I was given a tin hat, a whistle, and a CD respirator. The Post Warden one afternoon conducted me on the tour of the seventeen public shelters in the area... I gathered that a warden's main duty was to report any bombs which fell in his area. The Post itself was in a basement of an old house. It was not strengthened in any way, but across the road was a sunk concrete pill-box, which, later, gave good proof of its strength. When 'yellow' stand-by warnings or alerts sounded, the Post Warden, or his Deputy, a messenger, and one or two other wardens moved over there, while the rest of us went off to our various sectors. The Post area was divided into six or seven of these." (12)
Wardens would report to their post when they came on or went off duty, and part-time wardens were supposed to put in about three nights a week, though this increased greatly during the Blitz. They would sit around drinking cups of tea, smoking, reading the paper, playing cards or darts, gossiping or snoozing until the yellow "stand-by" warning alert sounded and then they would leave the post to patrol the streets of their sector on foot. When the red alert sounded that meant "raiders overhead", the air raid sirens would be set-off. (13)
Frances Faviell was a ARP in London. She later wrote about her experiences in her autobiography, A Chelsea Concerto (1959): "When the siren sounded we would hurry to the shelters, ticking off the names of the residents in their areas as they arrived, then back they went to hurry and chivvy the laggards and see that those who chose to stay in their houses were all right... They carried children, old people, bundles of blankets, and the odd personal possessions which some eccentrics insisted on taking with them to the shelters." (14)
Being a warden was a very dangerous occupation. On 5th May, 1941, the Luftwaffe carried out a heavy raid on the centre of Liverpool. It left 1,741 dead and 1,065 were seriously injured. The Civil Defence services lost large number of its personnel. This included twenty-eight ARP wardens and WVS workers killed and fourteen seriously injured. However, the government, anxious not to alert the Germans to how devastating their raids on Merseyside were, the public were not told about the people who lost their lives. (15) Five days later, six air raid wardens were killed as they talked to the Reverend Stanley Tolley, the 38 year-old vicar of St Silas Church in Nunhead, near Peckham. (16)
In December 1940 Barbara Nixon decided to become a full-time warden:"I was already putting in more than the requisite number of hours and, more important, any other work that I could get entailed leaving London, which in the circumstances, I was prepared to do. I therefore applied to be paid the magnificent sum of £2 5s. a week. The Town Hall, however, had objections. First, they said they did not want any more women; then, when that argument was disposed of, they said they would not employ married women, and asked me why I wanted to work when I was married. At length, after four or five weeks, they agreed to appoint me, but said that I must go to Post 13 at the other end of the borough… I made enquiries as to what ‘13' was like. Apart from jokes about its number, what I learned was not encouraging. They were considered the toughest set of wardens in the borough. Once, they had had a woman on the strength, but she had left months ago. They did not like woman. And they had had by far the heaviest fall of bombs in the neighbourhood, half the area being completely devastated." (17)
One report, written by a senior warden, suggested that women wardens were better than male wardens at dealing with the consequences of an air raid: "I go into a house, decide who's alive and who's dead, tot up the number of victims and what is necessary in the way of fire services, ambulances, demolition etc... Women warders are better than men in most cases... They can see in a moment who is in the house because they know what to look for. If the kettle is on the stove they know the occupants are probably downstairs and have not gone to bed; if there is a cot they know there is a baby about somewhere." (18)
After an air-raid it was the responsibility of the first wardens to arrive on the scene to assess the situation. The incident was reported it "quickly, concisely and accurately to Control. He or she then began to deal with the casualties. After administering first aid all casualties had to be labeled at the incident with any information that would help in their treatment. This was written in indelible pencil on a luggage label or lipstick on the casualty's forehead. They would then stay with injured until the medical staff arrived. (19)
Stanley Rothwell worked as a warden in Lambeth: "I looked up at the wall of the house, as I lifted my torch and I could see what looked like treacle sliding down the wall. I realized what it was, and seeing that nothing could be done in the darkness, I took my squad back to the depot to report what I had seen and to prepare to come back at daybreak with shrouds and the death wagon to do the unsavory job of picking up the bits and pieces. This macabre business was to be my lot for the rest of the war. During training I had instructed my men to treat the dead with reverence and respect, but I did not think we would have to shovel them up. Now this job had to be done with a stiff yard broom, a garden rake and shovel. We had to throw buckets of water up the wall to wash it down. The only tangible things were a man's hand with a bent ring on a finger, a woman's foot in a shoe on a window sill. In one corner of the garden was a bundle of something held together with a leather strap, as I disturbed it it fell to pieces steaming. It was part of a torso. The stench was something awful and it clung to my nostrils for some time after; in fact I never lost that smell until some time after the war was over.We gathered about six bags of bits and pieces; one pathetic little bundle, shapeless now, tied with bits of lace and ribbon, had been a baby." (20)
Barbara Nixon later described her reaction to the first air-raid she encountered: "As the blast of air reached me I left my saddle and sailed through the air... The tin hat on my shoulder took the impact, and as I stood up I was mildly surprised to find that I was not hurt in the least... The damage was thirty yards away, but the corner building, which had diverted some of the blast from me, was still standing. At four in the afternoon there would certainly be casualties. Now I would know whether I was going to be of any use as a warden or not, and I wanted to postpone the knowledge. I dared not run... I was not let down lightly... In the middle of the street lay the remains of a baby. It had been blown clean through the window and had burst on striking the roadway. To my intense relief, pitiful and horrible as it was, I was not nauseated, and found a torn piece of curtain in which to wrap it." (21)
Frances Faviell commented that "The stench was the worst thing about it, that – and having to realise that these frightful pieces of flesh had once been living, breathing people… if one was too lavish in making one body almost whole, than another one would have sad gaps. There were always odd members which did not seem to fit, and there were always too many legs… It became a grim and ghastly satisfaction when a body was fairly constructed… I think this task dispelled for me the idea that human life is valuable – it could be blown to pieces by blast, just as dust was blown by wind. (22)
Stanley Rothwell hated this aspect of the job: " It takes more than blind courage to face this task and handle these gruesome bundles, it takes guts of an unusual order, or else one has a callous nature that cares for nothing. If you are sensitive you carry the scars for the rest of your life… My old soldiers, seasoned campaigners in battle, worked with tears streaming down their faces. Jock Weir crossed himself and dropped onto his knees to pray; many times I had to excuse myself to go along and vomit after these gruesome jobs." (23)
After a building was hit during a bombing raid the fire service and the Heavy Rescue Squad would arrive. In December 1940, Bernard Regan attended a serious incident on the Isle of Dogs in Poplar. "They had found two more bodies and sent for the Light Rescue to come and take them away, and while I watched two more bodies were uncovered. I know none of us are very happy having to handle corpses, and it shows. They had uncovered two young girls, about eighteen years of age, quite unmarked, they looked as if they were asleep. I looked round at the other men. Most of them were shocked and a bit sick: we usually found bodies mutilated, and we just lifted them out by their hands and feet and quickly got away. Major Brown sees one man being sick, so he fishes out a bottom of rum to be handed round."
Regan then went on to explain his reaction to this difficult situation: "By now I am feeling a bit angry at the prospect of these girls being lugged by their arms and legs, so I got down beside them. They both have only their knickers and short petticoats on, and the dry weather we'd been having, and the rubble packed tight round them had preserved them. Their limbs were not even rigid. They were lifelike: I could not let them be handled like the usual corpses. I know I would have belted the first one that handled them with disrespect, but nobody makes a move to shift them, and they just stand there, gawping... Then I put my right arm under one of the girl's shoulders with her head resting against me, and my left arm under her knees, and carried her up. I laid her on the stretcher, 'You'll be comfortable now my dear.' I did exactly the same thing with the other one. I stood up and waited for some smart Alec to make a snide remark, but nobody did. I cooled down a bit after I had smoked a cigarette. I wonder, why had I been so angry." (24)
Wardens were expected to carry out a whole range of different duties: "At half-past two there was another message from Control. This time it was said that a German parachutist had landed in Lloyd Square, where I lived, and we were to search for him. The police turned out with revolvers and made a ring round the area; everyone seemed to be taking it very seriously, and I searched back-gardens... There was a great deal of 'jitteriness' about parachutists - in London it was rather ludicrous. Since Essex and Surrey offered far greater amenities for landing, and were reasonably handy, it was not likely that anyone would risk all the chimney-pots and roof-tops of London - let alone the trolley-bus wires." (25)
Sometimes members of the ARP were accused of stealing from bombed houses. In May 1941, the Metropolitan Police claimed that out of of a sample of 228 men prosecuted for looting, 96 held official positions. One part-time ARP warden in central London claimed that the 130 pairs of ladies' gloves, 214 towels, seventeen bottles of hair lotion, two fur coats and a fur collar he had managed to accumulate were "tips". He was prosecuted because it had been made clear to all members of the Civil Defence were not allowed to accept gifts from grateful victims. (26)
T. P. Peters was an air raid warden in East Grinstead: "On 10 p.m. on Saturday, 26th October, 1940, Stanney in Holtye Road, was demolished. We could hear cries coming from what was left of the house. The most extraordinary thing about this incident was the luck of the three ladies, who were trapped and escaped with minor injuries, but a nurse from Queen Victoria Hospital, who was having a bath at the time, was blown right out with the roof of the house and with the shattered bath. We found her lying on her back, terribly injured, and quite nude. Warden Burnett remarked afterwards: "When I shone my torch on her I thought it was a statue blown over in the garden." We covered her with a coat and she actually asked me what had happened. We got her into the Larches Nursing Home, where Dr. Somerville and his staff did their best, but she died the next day." (27)
Peters faced a more serious problem on 9th July 1943, when the town suffered a very heavy raid. According to the East Grinstead Observer: "Suddenly the roar of a plane approaching the town from the north was heard. It swooped down out of the low-lying clouds and it was then that shoppers and other people realised that the twin-engined bomber was a German. It roared over the town, circled twice and then dropped several bombs. One made a direct hit on a cinema, another on an ironmonger's shop higher up the road, another on a builder's and ladies' outfitters and one fell near a factory. In the cinema was an audience of 184 - the majority being children - who were trapped when the bomb fell." (28)
As a result of the censorship laws, East Grinstead could not be identified as the town hit by the bombing raid: "Death dealing blows were struck at the heart of a quiet South-East town soon after 5 o'clock on Friday, when one of about ten enemy raiders swept in from the coast to cause havoc in the shopping centre, and a large number of casualties among men, women and children. The majority of the casualties were in a cinema, where a bomb scored a direct hit. It was there that the death toll was heavy.... There were many harrowing scenes as children and women were recovered from the debris. A newspaper office was used for a mortuary, and later the bodies were taken to a garage where they were left for identification purposes. Not half of the victims had been identified by Sunday." (29)
Peters himself was one of the survivors of the air raid: "I had just left the back of the Scotch Wool Shop and got to Bridglandʹs when the bombs dropped. I was apparently blown across the road into the building opposite not knowing to this day how I got there or having heard any noise. But my mind soon cleared. I looked around - the sight was almost indescribable. People were lying all round me terribly injured, blown from I do not know where. The extraordinary thing was: How did I escape? Other than a small bump on my head caused by my helmet, I was the only uninjured person present. Bullets were flying round as the raider had returned and was machine-gunning the town... At the Cinema: hardly a body could be seen - all covered by rubble... Our next sad task was at the temporary mortuary (Fosterʹs Garage) where over one hundred bodies were laid out for identification purposes." As a result of the raid 108 people were killed and 235 were seriously injured. It was the largest loss of life in any air raid in Sussex. (30)
Barbara Nixon worked as an ARP warden from May 1940 until the end of the war in 1945. Occasionally, on her day off, she visited her husband who was teaching at the University of Cambridge: "Sunday was my day off, and I went straight from the Post to the station to see if there were any trains running. The upper floors of the station were still burning, and the platforms were covered with the filthy, slimy oil of several fire bombs, but the 4.30 a.m. was just leaving at 7 a.m., and I slept the whole way to Cambridge. By ill-luck, as I left the train, I met a theatrical company on tour, most of whose members I knew. I was very embarrassed, as I was still in my dusty dungarees and my face was smeared and dirty. A large friend of mine, in a pale blue spring outfit with grey furs dangling, said 'Good gracious!' when she recognised me. But when I said that we had a heavy night in London, nobody was interested, and the subject changed to contracts, and how bad poor Peter was in his part. "But, of course, my dear, as you know, he shoudn't ever have gone on the stage - just hasn't got it in him.' I felt like a foreigner... I could still talk the language, just as I can still recite 'Au clair de la lune,' but it did not mean very much." (31)
At the height of the Bitiz there were 127,000 Civil Defence workers. By the end of 1943 the number fell to 70,000. The number of men and women working in the fire service also declined. Those who continued in this work tended to take spare-time war work. By the spring of 1943 there were two hundred stations in London alone where firemen were engaged in productive work and others worked on allotments and farms. Many wardens found similar tasks to occupy them, for example, making toys for orphaned children and collecting money for war savings. (32)
Stanley Rothwell was highly critical of those British politicians that he felt had been responsible for the war. As a ARP warden he hated the job of dealing with the casualties of bombing raids during the early weeks of the Blitz. "Casualties got heavier, we were saturated with blood, dirt and stinking sweat. Our uniforms were now stiffened with clotted blood, we were impregnated with the acrid fumes of cordite and explosives and old brick dust… This is a side of warfare that is unglorious, that someone has to face, a side that is rarely mentioned, a side of war that gets no medals, a side of war that if the bemedaled glory boys who wield the power, if they had to face it, would change their tunes." (33)
George VI announced that "in order that they (Civil Defence workers) should be worthily and promptly recognised, I have decided to create, at once, a new mark of honour for men and women in all weeks of civilian life" for valour on the home front, as there were medals for those at the battlefront. The George Cross was intended to be the civilian equivalent of the Victoria Cross, which was awarded for "acts of the greatest heroism or of the most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme danger". (34)
It was claimed that ARP was not run effectively during the war. "The running of a service a thousand strong is a skilled job, and the type of person who goes in for local government is not, as a rule, capable of it… The warden's was the ugly duckling of the services, and suffered the most from bad organization… What, positively could have been done other than what was done? In the first place, a properly functioning Labour Party and a Trades Council, voicing needs and grievances from the wards, or branches, or places of work, criticizing and checking the red tape and ineptitude where these occurred, and, above all, insisting on the treatment of people as people, could have made a great deal of difference… Secondly, a proper democratic organization within the Wardens' Service itself could have rectified many mistakes, as well as developing an atmosphere of willing co-operation, and individual responsibility and initiative, in place of the sour grumbling and ‘browned off' feeling that became only too common." (35)
By the outbreak of the Second World War there were more than 1.5 million people were involved in the various ARP services (later re-named Civil Defence). Full-time ARP staff peaked at just over 131,000 in December 1940 (nearly 20,000 were women). By 1944, with the decreasing threat from enemy bombing, the total of full-time ARP staff had dropped to approximately 67,000 (10,000 of whom were women). During the war almost 7,000 Civil Defence workers were killed. (36)
Primary Sources
(1) British government circular 'Air Raid Warnings' (1939)
When air raids are threatened, warning will be given in towns by sirens, or hooters which will be sounded in some places by short blasts and in others by a warbling note, changing every few seconds. The warnings may be given by the police or air-raid wardens blowing short blasts on whistles.
When you hear the warning take cover at once. Remember that most of the injuries in an air raid are caused not by direct hits by bombs but by flying fragments of debris or by bits of shells. Stay under cover until you hear the sirens sounding continuously for two minutes on the same note which is the signal "Raiders Passed".
(2) Winston Churchill, letter to Neville Chamberlain (1st October, 1939)
The A. R. P. (Air Raid Precautions) defences and expense are founded upon a wholly fallacious view of the degree of danger to each part of the country which they cover. Schedules should be made of the target areas and of the paths of flight by which they may be approached. In these areas there must be a large proportion of whole-time employees. London is of course the chief target, and others will readily occur. In these target areas the street-lighting should be made so that it can be controlled by the Air Wardens on the alarm signal being given; and while shelters should be hurried on with and strengthened, night and day, the people's spirits should be kept up by theatres and cinemas until the actual attack begins. Over a great part of the countryside, modified lighting should be at once allowed, and places of entertainment opened. No paid A. R. P. personnel should be allowed in these areas. All should be on a voluntary basis, the Government contenting itself with giving advice, and leaving the rest to local effort. In these areas, which comprise at least seven-eighths of the United Kingdom, gas-masks should be kept at home and only carried in the target areas as scheduled. There is really no reason why orders to this effect should not be given during the coming week.
(3) John Langdon-Davies, Lilliput Magazine (July, 1939)
If we are to become ARP minded, we must realise that the peace-time life to which we have become reconciled must be altered fundamentally. Real ARP does not mean digging a large number of shelters and then going on living as we have done heretofore. It means altering our cities and our way of living in them so that at a moment's notice they may become part of the front line trenches in a war thrust upon us by the air bandits of international Fascism.
Fortunately, we can solve ARP only by solving peace-time problems which ought to have been settled long ago. In broad outline this is what we must do:
We must solve our traffic problems. One of the chief objects of air bombardment is to make civilian life impossible by bringing it to a standstill. London is particularly vulnerable; fifty well-placed bombs would immobilise it. Anyone who has tried to get out of London for a Bank Holiday weekend will know that this is so...
Only when we have accepted this large-scale remodelling of our cities as essential, can we begin to make sense of ARP. And we must begin by realising that ARP is a psychological problem far more than a structural or technical one.
The object of air bombardment is not to hit military objectives but to attack the nerve centres of the man in the street. We must prepare our defence now by letting everybody know exactly what to expect from an air raid and by training them so withstand the nervous shock such a raid entails...
There must be shelter for those who have to work in dangerous areas. I do not believe that everyone can be protected against a thousand-pound bomb, but much more should be done than has as yet been attempted. Every factory, every office should be provided with bomb-proof refuges, or people upon whom our economic life depends will not be able to carry on work.
(4) John Anderson, The Protection of Your Home Against Air Raids (1940)
If air raids ever come to this country… do not hesitate to ask for advice if you need it. A local Air Raid Precautions organization has been established in your district and Air Raid Wardens have been appointed to help you. For any help you need, apply to your Warden or to your local Council Offices.
All windows, skylights, glazed doors or other openings in parts of the house where lights are used must be completely screened after dusk so that no light is visible from outside. All lights near an outside door must be screened.
Clear the loft, attic or top floor of all inflammable material – paper, litter, lumber, etc. – to lessen the danger of fire and prevent fire from spreading.
(5) Barbara M. Nixon, Raiders Overhead (1943)
In December 1940 I decided to become a full-time warden. I was already putting in more than the requisite number of hours and, more important, any other work that I could get entailed leaving London, which in the circumstances, I was prepared to do. I therefore applied to be paid the magnificent sum of £2 5s. a week.
The Town Hall, however, had objections. First, they said they did not want any more women; then, when that argument was disposed of, they said they would not employ married women, and asked me why I wanted to work when I was married. At length, after four or five weeks, they agreed to appoint me, but said that I must go to Post 13 at the other end of the borough…
I made enquiries as to what ‘13' was like. Apart from jokes about its number, what I learned was not encouraging. They were considered the toughest set of wardens in the borough. Once, they had had a woman on the strength, but she had left months ago. They did not like woman. And they had had by far the heaviest fall of bombs in the neighbourhood, half the area being completely devastated.
(6) Frances Faviell, A Chelsea Concerto (1959)
When the siren sounded we would hurry to the shelters, ticking off the names of the residents in their areas as they arrived, then back they went to hurry and chivvy the laggards and see that those who chose to stay in their houses were all right... They carried children, old people, bundles of blankets, and the odd personal possessions which some eccentrics insisted on taking with them to the shelters…
It became a grim and ghastly satisfaction when a body was fairly constructed… The stench was the worst thing about it, that – and having to realise that these frightful pieces of flesh had once been living, breathing people… if one was too lavish in making one body almost whole, than another one would have sad gaps. There were always odd members which did not seem to fit, and there were always too many legs… I think this task dispelled for me the idea that human life is valuable – it could be blown to pieces by blast, just as dust was blown by wind.
(7) Bernard Regan, Imperial War Museum Department of Documents (88/10/1)
They had found two more bodies and sent for the Light Rescue to come and take them away, and while I watched two more bodies were uncovered. I know none of us are very happy having to handle corpses, and it shows. They had uncovered two young girls, about eighteen years of age, quite unmarked, they looked as if they were asleep. I looked round at the other men. Most of them were shocked and a bit sick: we usually found bodies mutilated, and we just lifted them out by their hands and feet and quickly got away. Major Brown sees one man being sick, so he fishes out a bottom of rum to be handed round.
By now I am feeling a bit angry at the prospect of these girls being lugged by their arms and legs, so I got down beside them. They both have only their knickers and short petticoats on, and the dry weather we'd been having, and the rubble packed tight round them had preserved them. Their limbs were not even rigid. They were lifelike: I could not let them be handled like the usual corpses. I know I would have belted the first one that handled them with disrespect, but nobody makes a move to shift them, and they just stand there, gawping... Then I put my right arm under one of the girl's shoulders with her head resting against me, and my left arm under her knees, and carried her up. I laid her on the stretcher, 'You'll be comfortable now my dear.' I did exactly the same thing with the other one. I stood up and waited for some smart Alec to make a snide remark, but nobody did. I cooled down a bit after I had smoked a cigarette. I wonder, why had I been so angry.
(8) Stanley Rothwell, Lambeth at War (1981)
I looked up at the wall of the house, as I lifted my torch and I could see what looked like treacle sliding down the wall. I realized what it was, and seeing that nothing could be done in the darkness, I took my squad back to the depot to report what I had seen and to prepare to come back at daybreak with shrouds and the death wagon to do the unsavoury job of picking up the bits and pieces. This macabre business was to be my lot for the rest of the war. During training I had instructed my men to treat the dead with reverence and respect, but I did not think we would have to shovel them up. Now this job had to be done with a stiff yard broom, a garden rake and shovel. We had to throw buckets of water up the wall to wash it down. The only tangible things were a man's hand with a bent ring on a finger, a woman's foot in a shoe on a window sill. In one corner of the garden was a bundle of something held together with a leather strap, as I disturbed it it fell to pieces steaming. It was part of a torso. The stench was something awful and it clung to my nostrils for some time after; in fact I never lost that smell until some time after the war was over.We gathered about six bags of bits and pieces; one pathetic little bundle, shapeless now, tied with bits of lace and ribbon, had been a baby…
It takes more than blind courage to face this task and handle these gruesome bundles, it takes guts of an unusual order, or else one has a callous nature that cares for nothing. If you are sensitive you carry the scars for the rest of your life… My old soldiers, seasoned campaigners in battle, worked with tears streaming down their faces. Jock Weir crossed himself and dropped onto his knees to pray; many times I had to excuse myself to go along and vomit after these gruesome jobs.
The next nine or ten weeks was a continuous nightmare, the enemy visited us every night. Casualties got heavier, we were saturated with blood, dirt and stinking sweat. Our uniforms were now stiffened with clotted blood, we were impregnated with the acrid fumes of cordite and explosives and old brick dust…
This is a side of warfare that is unglorious, that someone has to face, a side that is rarely mentioned, a side of war that gets no medals, a side of war that if the bemedaled glory boys who wield the power, if they had to face it, would change their tunes.
(9) T. P. Peters, an Air Raid Warden in East Grinstead, wrote about his experiences during the Second World War in his book, Reminiscences (1945).
When the Prime Minister announced the Declaration of War on Germany on Sunday morning, 3rd September, 1939, the country was well prepared with its ARP (Air Raid Precautions) Organization. We had received a good training from Colonel Eaton, the Chief Warden.
Gas Masks were issued to the public. I remember one poor old gentleman asked me: "Well, Sir, how am I to eat my dinner with this thing on?" We concentrated on improving our first aid skills. Every week we would have an exercise. Mr. J. Woodrow would be the patient. Mrs. L Bennett typed us a booklet containing all names, addresses and where people planned to shelter during air raids.
On 10 p.m. on Saturday, 26th October, 1940, Stanney in Holtye Road, was demolished. We could hear cries coming from what was left of the house. The most extraordinary thing about this incident was the luck of the three ladies, who were trapped and escaped with minor injuries, but a nurse from Queen Victoria Hospital, who was having a bath at the time, was blown right out with the roof of the house and with the shattered bath. We found her lying on her back, terribly injured, and quite nude.
Warden Burnett remarked afterwards: "When I shone my torch on her I thought it was a statue blown over in the garden." We covered her with a coat and she actually asked me what had happened. We got her into the Larches Nursing Home, where Dr. Somerville and his staff did their best, but she died the next day.
(10) East Grinstead Observer (17th July, 1943)
Late on Friday afternoon a small number of enemy aircraft crossed the Southeast Coast. Bombs were dropped at different places. Two enemy bombers were brought down - one near Caterham and one near Sittingbourne - and both exploded, the crews being killed. A county town in the Southeast area was attacked, and a cinema was hit, causing a large number of casualties, including many children.
Suddenly the roar of a plane approaching the town from the north was heard. It swooped down out of the low-lying clouds and it was then that shoppers and other people realised that the twin-engined bomber was a German. It roared over the town, circled twice and then dropped several bombs. One made a direct hit on a cinema, another on an ironmonger's shop higher up the road, another on a builder's and ladies' outfitters and one fell near a factory.
In the cinema was an audience of 184 - the majority being children - who were trapped when the bomb fell. Following the
news came a cowboy film, during which the usual notice of an air raid being in progress was displayed, so that anybody who wished to leave might do so. Few people left, but among them was one schoolboy.
Suddenly there was a terrific crash, and to use the words of one survivor, the whole building seemed to collapse like a pack of cards, trapping most of the audience.
Molly Stiller, daughter of an officer in the Home Guard, was the only member of the cinema staff to be killed. She worked in the cinema as an usherette. Mr. Herbert Brackpool was busy in his bakehouse making jam tarts. Suddenly the roof split open and through the opening fell the bodies of four women. All four were dead. Mr. Brackpool, knowing that his son was at the cinema rushed to join the rescue workers. Presently one of Mr. Brackpool's colleagues came across the boy's dead body.
A little further up the road from the cinema, a large ironmonger's shop received a direct hit and a fire spread rapidly. The company secretary had a miraculous escape. He was near the top of the building which was four stories high when he suddenly felt himself falling. He went through two floors before coming to a rest. He was able to cling to a ledge - behind him another room was blazing - until rescued by ladders.
The fire spread rapidly to the adjoining premises on the south-side, a cycle shop and the jeweller's, which, like the ironmonger's was gutted by nightfall. Further destruction was wrought in another street where some old buildings stood. A small millinery shop received a direct hit and collapsed killing the manageress. A builder's premises next door was burnt to the ground and a ladies' gown shop was wrecked. A number of members of staff were killed or injured.
Another bomb dropped to the rear of a stationer's shop - one of the oldest buildings in the town. The proprietor and his wife have since died from their injuries.
The work of all branches of the Civil Defence was magnificent. Shortly after the bombs fell the N.F.S. were on the scene pumping water on the burning buildings. They managed to save a public house and a warehouse from total demolition and by nightfall they had the fires under control. Rescue squads, assisted by soldiers, members of the Home Guard, Special Police, and many ordinary citizens went straight to their task and worked grimly throughout the night. Mr. Frederick Whales, a railwayman who is also an air raid warden, unearthed the body of his niece, Molly Stiller.
E.G. Outsell, a sergeant of the special police, reported for duty despite the fact that he suffered injury by a machine-gun bullet. He was outside his shop when the plane machine-gunned the town and received a graze across his stomach from a bullet. After treatment he went on duty. Special Constable Golding was in a train that was machine-gunned and on his arrival home he found that his daughter had gone to the cinema for the first time for many months. Despite his great anxiety he reported for duty and later was relieved to hear that his daughter, except for cuts and bruises, was safe. Special Constable Prodger was on duty throughout the night knowing, too, that his daughter was in the cinema. She was among the killed.
Eric Parsons escaped from this ordeal because of his interest in rabbits. "I go to the cinema every Friday evening" he said. "This was the first Friday I have missed for months. Instead of spending my money on the pictures I saved it in order to enter my two rabbits in our school rabbit show."
