Railway lines were blocked by an explosion at Spellow Station. Trains from Liverpool were delayed, adding further pressure on the transport system. Buckinghamshire got fifty incendiary bombs, dropped near a military camp at Iver. Only slight damage was reported. In Kent, mains were damaged in the early morning at Orpington and Shoreham. Worcestershire also saw damage to mains. Other property damage was reported in Dudley. In Scotland, a mine was dropped near Kinghorn, but no damage was recorded. In the south-eastern region, areas near Hastings and Brighton got the attention of the Luftwaffe. Wye and Ashford suffered slight damage to property and telephone wires. Other bombs were reported in parts of Sussex and Kent.
By the end of the day 58 civilians had been killed and approximately 298 injured. But still there was next to no media attention. People were being asked to “take it”, but many felt their sacrifices were not being recognized.
The day had been young when the weekly secret résumé of the naval military and air situation made its way to the War Cabinet. This was the day, according to legend, that Fighter Command was on its last legs, on the point of collapse, smashed by the incessant, unrelenting attacks of the Luftwaffe. But, if this was the case, there was not the slightest hint of it in the résumé. It did report, however, that there had been an increase in shipping activity which could have been related to the invasion.
Photographic and other reconnaissance at Flushing had revealed an increase of barges and 12 floating bridge sections were newly arrived. A concentration of 70 small ships, average length 150 ft, had been observed on 4 September. At Delfzijl there were 100 barges in the harbour and 60 motorboats moving through the canal. At Zeebrugge there were 100 barges and a few small craft in harbour. At Ostend barges had increased to 100. But there was no concentration of barges at Boulogne, although 50 motorboats had arrived. Six torpedo boats of German T Class were at Le Havre.45
Elsewhere, Keith Park was preparing a “terse instruction” to his controllers, noting that, during the last major raid, only 7 out of 18 squadrons despatched had intercepted the enemy, and complaining that the majority of formations were only intercepted after they had dropped their bombs.46 The War Cabinet was not apprised of this. Instead, it was fed a diet of false statistics which had the RAF suffer 168 losses in the week, of which 148 had been fighters, against 310 Luftwaffe “definites” and 128 “probables”. That was a claimed exchange rate of approximately 3:1 whereas the actual rate was, by some strange coincidence, exactly even – 966 aircraft lost by both sides. The previous day, the RAF had claimed 54 raiders downed, compared with a loss of 11 of its own aircraft. This day, Fighter Command claimed 45 downed, against 19 of its own lost. The actuality was 33 Luftwaffe aircraft destroyed against 25 fighters lost, and 3 others, totalling 28. That put the RAF only slightly ahead on the day.
More important than the reality – which was only to emerge after the war – on 6 September 1940, by its own account, the RAF was winning the battle hands down. There was no hint of a crisis in Fighter Command and, where there was a problem, as identified by Park, it was that fighters were not being effectively deployed. Despite that, in Stockholm, British Minister Victor Mallet received a telegram from Halifax telling him not to meet Weissauer. Hitler was to be told, through him, that peace was not on the agenda.47 The people were to bear the immediate consequences. Overnight, 68 Luftwaffe bombers raided London.
10.
Start of the Blitz
Now here it must be very definitely be stated that the objectives in London at which our Air Force aim are all of either military nature or of those industrial categories pertaining to England’s war effort.
Hamburg broadcast, 8 September 19401
The air war was about to become an end in itself. But it was not to be between opposing air fleets. Rather, it was an uneven battle between the aggressor’s bombers and the British people. The crown of thorns had passed from Fighter Command to the civilian population. It had to suffer, endure and survive. This was the Blitz.
DAY 60 – SATURDAY 7 SEPTEMBER 1940
The morning was quiet. However, the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC), keeping a close watch on German invasion preparations, had for some days been concerned about the barge movements to the Channel ports. Judging that the Germans would not bring these vessels within range of RAF attacks unless they were about to be used, it decided to warn the Chiefs of Staff that they considered an invasion “imminent”.2 Alan Brooke wrote: “All reports look like invasion getting nearer”.3 Fighter Command issued a warning to all units.
Park would normally have been at his post in his Uxbridge bunker, especially if big raids were expected, but this day he left command to his controllers. Should a raid develop, his instructions were that they should keep their fighters well back from the coast in order to guard the airfields and factories. He had then left for a meeting with Dowding to discuss pilot strengths.4
The quiet did not last. In France, a heavy, armoured train had rolled into the Channel coast railway station of La Boissière le Déluge, just outside Calais. From it had emerged Reichsmarschall Göring. Flanked by Field Marshal Kesselring and General Loerzer, commander of II Air Corps, he made his way to the cliffs and stood there as his air fleets thundered overhead on their way to London.
Just before 5 p.m., 348 bombers, Heinkels, Dorniers and Junkers, escorted by 617 Messerschmitt fighters, converged on London in three deadly waves. As they merged, they formed a 20-mile wide block, filling 800 square miles of sky. It was undoubtedly the most concentrated assault against Britain since the Spanish Armada. On this day of all days, there were no clues as to its destination until it had almost arrived, by which time the fighter squadrons were poorly placed to intercept. The Observer Corps did not realize what was happening until the leading edge of the raid had reached its destination.
Even so, the RAF was able to bring down some German aircraft. But the defence was very limited. There was very little anti-aircraft fire as guns had been sent to protect the airfields. There were only ninety-two “heavies” available for the defence of the capital. Most of the raiders had come in between Dungeness and the Isle of Wight. Sound-locators, largely concentrated along the estuary approach, were either outflanked or swamped by the large number of aircraft. In addition communications failed between many of the vital points, and many of the guns did not go into action at all.5
As the reports from his bomber crews came in, a triumphant Göring rushed to a specially equipped mobile studio and broadcast to the German nation on this “historic” moment. “As a result of the provocative British attacks on Berlin on recent nights,” he said, “the Führer has decided to order a mighty blow to be struck in revenge against the capital of the British Empire”. Making clear his role, he declared: “I personally have assumed leadership of this attack, and today have heard above me the roaring of the victorious German squadrons which now, for the first time, are driving towards the heart of the enemy in full daylight, accompanied by countless fighter squadrons”.6
Shocked and frightened East Enders voted with their feet. There was a mass exodus in two directions. Some went eastwards to Epping Forest and the open country of Essex, where thousands camped out in makeshift shelters. Others headed west, towards the centre of London, where it was believed shelters were deep and safe and the bombing less severe. In dangerously overcrowded Tube stations, individual displays of leadership, such as from an anonymous railway porter at Monument Station, kept the crowds moving. One group which emerged at Oxford Circus made for the shelter in Dickins and Jones, one of the larger department stores. Police attempted to prevent people queuing for shelter. Firmly, but without violence, they were brushed aside. The police returned, then to organize the queue people had formed. Their endeavours were punctuated by occasional flashes of humour which undoubtedly relieved the tension.7
What made events almost surreal – certainly for those who were there – was that “Black Saturday” had started off as such a beautiful day. Rarely for London at the time, t
he temperature had been in the 90s. And although everyone knew bombs might fall, there was no awareness that there would be a seismic shift in the course of the war on that day. This made it a day not only for death and destruction, but one for mystery and conspiracy. Early press reports, in the New York Times for instance, noted that “the all-out aerial warfare threatened by Hitler the previous week appeared to be in full swing as his bombers raided England by day and by night”. The link between his speech on 4 September and the raid seemed obvious – and Göring had declared as much. This was Hitler’s revenge.
On the ground, the results were inevitable. One reporter and novelist, Mea Allen wrote in a letter: “You felt you really were walking with death – death in front of you and death hovering in the skies”.8 This was London’s first experience of total war and, as it later emerged, there was almost a sense that it wouldn’t happen – a real sense of complacency that caught the RAF, the government and the defenders napping. When the aircraft were first heard it was thought they were British – until the bombs began to fall. Len Jones, an 18-year-old in Poplar, a working-class district in London targeted because of its warehouses and gasworks, remembered his reactions. There was that sense with terror that it is not really going to happen:
That afternoon around five o’clock, I went outside the house. I’d heard the aircraft and it was very exciting, because the first formations were coming over without any bombs dropping, but very, very majestic; terrific. And I had no thought that they were actually bombers. Then from that point on I was well aware, because bombs began to fall and shrapnel was going along King Street, dancing off the cobbles. Then the real impetus came, in so far as the suction and the compression from the high explosive blasts just pulled you and pushed you, and the whole of this atmosphere was turbulating so hard.9
That sense, that it was not really going to happen, a sense of disbelief, was echoed later in Home Intelligence reports. Questions were asked as to whether London’s defences had been as effective “as has been supposed”, with the conviction that there had been a false sense of security, buoyed by a belief in government propaganda.10
When the day bombers had finished, the night shift took over, feeding and extending the fires started by the first waves. Shortly after midnight, London Fire Brigade recorded 9 conflagrations needing 100 pumps, 19 fires requiring 30 pumps or more, 40 fires requiring 10 pumps each and 1,000 lesser fires. In the Surrey Commercial Docks alone were 2 fires requiring 300 pumps each and one requiring 130 pumps. In Woolwich Arsenal, 200 pumps were required. By the time the bombers had done their work, 306 lay dead in the capital, with another 1,337 seriously injured. A further 142 had been killed in the suburbs – the total only a hundred short of the number of pilots killed in combat in the entire Battle of Britain.11
The raids should not have come as a great surprise. Apart from being flagged up in Hitler’s speech, London was Britain’s premier port. Already, the Luftwaffe had attacked Liverpool, Bristol, Plymouth, Southampton, Dover, Hull and the north-eastern ports, right up to Aberdeen. On this day, the attack was not on London as a city but London as a port. The move had been entirely logical. Furthermore, while there was obviously and rightly much focus on the human suffering, proportionate to tonnage of bombs and the duration of the raids, the casualty rate was relatively modest. During the First World War, on 13 June 1917, 14 Gotha bombers, in their first ever daylight raid, had dropped bombs weighing 5,400kg on the East End. In all 104 people had been killed, 154 seriously injured and 269 slightly injured – some as a result of anti-aircraft shells exploding prematurely or on their return to the ground.12
This time round, property damage was extensive and, proportionately, casualties were lighter. The effect on port operations was serious. Few ships were sunk, one of them being the tug Beckton. But at least twenty-four were damaged, many badly enough to prevent them sailing. Others were to sustain repeated damaged.13 With damage to the dock facilities, the cranes, the barges and the warehouses, the Luftwaffe had dealt a powerful blow to the British economy. All this had been achieved for the loss of thirty-seven aircraft. Fighter Command had lost twenty-two, and Bomber Command one. As to the morale of the population, and in particular London, that was another question. Over the next few days, engineering a collapse seemed, for the Germans, the most promising way of ending the war quickly.
On the receiving end, things looked ominous. As bombers were pummelling London, the coded warning “Cromwell” was sent to Army and some Home Guard Units. Church bells were rung, some bridges were blown up and forces throughout the south-east went on high alert. Many Home Guard units spent an anxious and uncomfortable night, expecting by morning to see grey-uniformed soldiers storming up the beaches. They did not come.
DAY 61 – SUNDAY 8 SEPTEMBER 1940
The residents of East London emerged from their shelters – those that had access to them – dazed and shattered, some of them later to see Churchill on a carefully orchestrated tour. The Ministry of Information men had been out in force, planting the message that the prevailing mood was one of stoicism and weary resignation. With rescue workers still clawing away at the wreckage, however, the mood in some places was much uglier. People wanted revenge.14 They wanted explanations from the government as to why they had been left so vulnerable to attack.15
Even as the bombs had started falling the previous day, the Conway Hall in London had been packed with people listening to the firebrand Independent Labour Party MP John McGovern. He had been telling his audience that the war was not a struggle between democracy and dictatorship. It was, he said, a capitalist-imperialist war, a fight of have-empires against have-not-empires. The man had a following – and with good cause.
Far from the cheerful “Blitz spirit” which the BBC was later so keen to foster on behalf of its Ministry of Information masters, many people felt trapped between their own government and the government of Germany. It was a “bosses’ war” and they were pigs-in-the-middle.16 F. R. Barry, a cannon of Westminster and vicar of St John’s, Smith Square, was appalled at the lack of support of the people in the bombed districts. He sought an interview with Brendan Bracken (Churchill’s Parliamentary Secretary), telling him that, if this continued, there would be anti-war demonstrations, which the government might not be able to contain.17
The more immediate problem was the need for protection. Many of the worst raids were now happening at night and once the sirens had sounded, families sought whatever shelter they could find. Public facilities remained inadequate. The so-called surface shelters not only afforded no protection from a direct hit, they were not designed for prolonged occupation, nor equipped for sleeping. At best, they were cold and draughty, and stuffy when sealed. Few were heated. In low-lying areas they were easily flooded, and many were perpetually damp. But people, either had to make do with them, or flimsy Anderson shelters which they dug themselves in their back gardens, if they had them. Failing that, many people crouched beneath kitchen tables or under the stairs.18
Others seemed better provided for. Those who could afford it were able to book seats in a luxury sleeper train which left a London terminus each evening and parked up in an isolated country siding, to afford its guests an uninterrupted night’s sleep. Each morning, as the train returned to London, breakfast was provided – off ration – in the restaurant car.19
Information Minister Duff Cooper and Lady Diana were able to rent a penthouse suite in the then ultra-modern Dorchester Hotel. This gave them access to the cellars, formerly used as Turkish baths, which had been converted into a luxury shelter, known by its inhabitants as “the dorm”. There was a neat row of cots, spaced 2 ft apart, each provided with “a lovely fluffy eiderdown”. Nine peers also slept there each night. Lord Halifax had his own personal space reserved.20
Although the shelter was advertised as bomb proof, even against a direct hit, Chief of the Air Staff, then Charles Portal, discussed its safety with Robert (later Lord) Boothby. “Don’t tell them,” he said, referring to the we
ll-heeled shelterers, “but in fact they are not under the hotel at all. They are one foot under the pavement outside. If a bomb falls on them, they will all be killed”.21 For the less well endowed, the Underground stations were the obvious refuge. But those seeking shelter found the entrances locked overnight, and often during air raids. Police moved people on if they attempted to shelter, and many attest to the unpleasant and unhelpful attitude of station staff and officials.22
US Ambassador Joseph “Joe” Kennedy was openly dismissive of Britain’s chances of survival, saying that if war continued, the present capitalist system would crack. It would be better to accept a semi-defeat now than lose all later.23 And on this very day, an enigmatic German by the name of Albrecht Haushofer, latterly associated with the German resistance, wrote a letter to the Duke of Hamilton in Scotland, requesting a meeting “somewhere on the outskirts of Europe, perhaps in Portugal”. Haushofer was a long-time acquaintance of Hitler and a close confident of Nazi Party deputy chief, Rudolf Hess, with whom he had met on the last day of August.24 In his letter, he referred to people whom the German Government believed wanted a “German-English agreement”. They included Samuel Hoare in his ambassador’s residence in Madrid, and Rab Butler, both supporters of Chamberlain’s appeasement policy.25
Some hint of how the Germans saw the situation came from the Naval Staff war diary entry of the day. It stated:
Many Not the Few: The Stolen History of the Battle of Britain Page 26
