Two Rooms And A View: 17 - Air Raids
...Whenever the siren sounded during the day, it was natural to look to the sky to seek the cause. Most of the time, nothing could be seen. On this occasion, looking skywards I was amazed to see a German aeroplane flying low over the town.
This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me and I must have stood like a statue staring towards the enemy in the sky. Unknown to me, someone else was watching my movements. This was a man standing at the door of his house in South Palmerston Street. Without a word being spoken, I was grabbed from behind by a strong pair of arms, carried indoors through a strange house and put into an air raid shelter in the yard. I was placed on a stool, given a drink and asked, "Where do you live?"...
Robert Owen recalls bombing raids on his home town, South Shields, during World War Two. To read earlier chapters of Robert's autobiography please click on Two Rooms And A View in the menu on this page.
Most air raids on the town were during the night. One of the rare daytime raids on Tyneside further demonstrated the community spirit of the time. I was out playing with friends one lunchtime, about 400 yards from home, when the siren unexpectedly sounded. We had all been told to run home straight away if this happened. I started on my journey but then saw people standing and looking towards the sky. Whenever the siren sounded during the day, it was natural to look to the sky to seek the cause. Most of the time, nothing could be seen. On this occasion, looking skywards I was amazed to see a German aeroplane flying low over the town.
This was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to me and I must have stood like a statue staring towards the enemy in the sky. Unknown to me, someone else was watching my movements. This was a man standing at the door of his house in South Palmerston Street. Without a word being spoken, I was grabbed from behind by a strong pair of arms, carried indoors through a strange house and put into an air raid shelter in the yard. I was placed on a stool, given a drink and asked, "Where do you live?" I was too shocked to answer at first but eventually got out my name and address. My 'Good Samaritan' said I would have to stay in the shelter until the all-clear! This was about an hour but to me it felt much longer.
Once released, I ran home as quick as I could and found my mother standing at the corner of Reed Street -with a policeman. She was frantic with worry and had reported me missing. They both wanted to know where I had been. Very excited, all I could say was, "I saw a German 'plane; I saw a German 'plane!" Eventually when I had calmed down, the truth was extracted from me.
My mother then took me back to South Palmerston Street to try to identify the house. She wanted to thank the person concerned, but we never found my 'Good Samaritan', who sixty years later would very likely have been charged with 'kidnapping'.
One of the recommended habits of the early war years was always be back in your own house by about 9 p.m. This was not because of danger from the blackout or mugging - we did not know what that meant in those days - but because experience indicated that most air raids took place between 10 p.m. and 2 a.m.
This is what my mother and I were attempting to do when we got off the bus at Chichester at about 8.45 p.m. on Tuesday 30th September 1941. We had just got to the top of Reed Street bank when the siren alert sounded.
"They are early tonight." my mother commented as we hurried towards the communal shelter near Eglesfield Road and fingers of light from our searchlights started to hunt the enemy bombers. Whilst sitting in the cold air raid shelter and listening to the noise generated by the bombing, I remember experiencing the fear, helplessness and child-like failure to understand why anybody should be dropping bombs on other people and trying to kill them. We were all very frightened as the shelter shook after each bomb exploded. I recall my mother saying how glad she was that the family had not stayed in London if this was what the blitz was like.
During previous air raids, we had shared shelters belonging to neighbours. These were crowded but though small, were cosy and friendly. The communal shelter was none of these and we were stuck there until the all-clear sounded at 11 p.m.
In these two hours, Shields suffered one of its worst air raids of the war. Thirty-four bombs were dropped on the town resulting in massive damage to property and roads. Eighteen people lost their lives, fifty-one were seriously injured and over three hundred were made homeless. Although the bombing was bad on Tuesday 30th September, little did we know that worse was to follow only two days later!
The siren alert sounded even earlier, 8.05 p.m. on Thursday 2nd October. Fortunately we were at home and able to take the necessary precautions in our neighbour's shelter just across the back lane. As we listened to the drone of the German planes we were all scared stiff after what had happened on the Tuesday night. Our fear was warranted.
The official A.R.P. Report summarised the worst night of the war for the town, as follows: "Tired workers had not had sufficient rest, nor had essential services been fully restored, when the Luftwaffe carried out an even more intensive and determined raid on the town. In a short space of one and a quarter hours, many parts of the town suffered from indiscriminate bombing and the Market Place was rendered almost derelict."
The statistics of this eventful evening were that 44 bombs fell on the town, destroying 240 dwellings, shops and offices and damaging over 2,000 other buildings. Casualties were 68 killed (including 12 children) and 117 seriously injured.
After the raid, help came from emergency services all over the northeast and the Hedworth Hall was opened as a base for the personnel. The Gazette reported "An unique spectacle was seen in Dean Road with fire engines and other emergency vehicles from all over the region being parked along the road from the Regent to Chichester."
