| "The
noise was quite unbelievable with the diving aircraft
and the horrible whistling sound of the bombs
as they dropped"
The neighbours thought Stanley Hastings was mad
when he asked builders T Gill & Son to build
an air raid shelter in his Colman Road garden
in Norwich. This was early 1939 and three years
later they were very grateful that he was a man
with vision.
| "A red sky, criss-crossed
with searchlight beams, the sound of bombs
as they whistled to earth and the tremendous
thuds when they landed"
One street that got a real hammering
in the Blitz was Helena Road, off Dereham
Road — one of the survivors was Shirley
Drew (Jacobs) who was seven in 1942.
A pupil at Nelson Street Infants, she lived
with her mum and dad George — he was
a nurse at Hellesdon Hospital — and
Doris Jacobs, her sister Greta and grandmother
Alice Haines.
This is her story:
“I can remember my mother waking me
and saying we had to get up and go downstairs
as the air raid siren had gone. We were
crouching down in the scullery when an enormous
bang shook the house and all the plaster
fell off the ceiling on top of us.
“Soon afterwards we made a run down
the garden for our shelter, my father carrying
me over his shoulder, only to find the entrance
blocked. Fortunately our neighbours’
shelter faced the other way and they were
already in there and called us to go in
with them. It was quite a crowd.
“I have a vivid memory of the red sky,
criss-crossed with searchlight beams, the
smell of smoke and the sound of bombs as
they whistled to earth and the tremendous
thuds when they landed.
“When at last the all-clear sounded
we emerged from the shelter. Our house was
still standing but the roof was gone. I
remember going on a bus to a rest shelter
in a nearby school and being given tea and
biscuits and camp beds with rough grey blankets.
“My next memory is of returning home
the next morning and walking through the
streets. I felt embarrassed as we still
had our night-clothes on under our coats
and my hair was still in curlers.
“We went into the front room of our
house where everything appeared to be in
order but covered by dust and rubble. Across
the street bodies covered with grey blankets
were being lowered from the upper windows
of houses. Mother took me indoors so that
I shouldn’t look.
“Later that day relatives sent a car
for us and we went with just a few possessions
to their house about 20 miles away. We were
covered with dust and soot. Later that week
our relatives sent a lorry to pick up most
of our
furniture and possessions — and our
cat, which pleased me.
“My life in Norwich had come to an
abrupt end — we never returned although
eventually the houses in Helena Road were
rebuilt. Like so many families who were
victims of the Blitz our lives were changed
forever. The rest of my
childhood was spent in a quite Norfolk village
which seemed so far away from the city I
knew. But 60 years later I still think of
Norwich as home and go back whenever I can.” |
David takes up the story of Blitz week:
“At the crash warning we got dressed and
waited in the kitchen but suddenly we realised
that the noise of the bombers were getting very
loud indeed and then the sky was lit up with flares
we had not seen before,” says David.
“The aircraft seemed to use the river at
Cringleford as their run-in point and the noise
was tremendous as they dived over us towards the
city machine gunning as they went.
“We stood at the back door, not daring to
run the 60ft down the garden to the shelter as
the bombs whistled down and exploded with a fearful
crump, shaking the ground. At the first pause,
father shouted to us to run like mad and we made
it down to the shelter closely followed by our
neighbours.
“The noise was quite unbelievable with the
diving aircraft and the horrible whistling sound
of the bombs as they dropped. Even the shelter
rocked.
“To see the damage the next day as we cycled
through the city on our way to Norwich School
in the Close was terrible. Orford Place was gone
and Pilch’s our favourite toy shop was a
blackened ruin. Firemen’s hoses were everywhere
as we picked our way through the rubble.
“Tuesday night was quiet. Then on Wednesday
night it all began again and we went quickly to
the shelter. This time the noise was different,
a lot of small thumps and father suddenly shouted
that incendiaries were in the garden. No thought
this time about the terrible noise and the shrapnel
tinkling on the roof as it was my job, wearing
a tin hat far too large, to follow my father around
and help place sandbags on the incendiaries.
“Luckily for us our house was not hit but
quite a few others in the area were and the whole
sky seemed to be ablaze. The flames coming from
the city centre were huge and we suddenly realised
that charred pieces of sweet boxes were floating
down and we realised that Caleys chocolate factory
had been hit.
“Thursday was quiet but on Friday it all
began again with a mixture of high explosive and
incendiaries. By now Norwich had quite a large
AA defence which added to the din but at least
we knew we were hitting back.
“We lost several roof tiles and had a front
window blown in but other than that we were lucky.
We all thanked father for his foresight in having
the shelter built although it was not designed
for 10 people and at times the crush was unbelievable.
“Blitz week was quite an experience for youngsters
who were perhaps just a bit too young to really
appreciate all the danger, but who were old enough
to be terrified by the noise and horrified to
see the empty desks at school of friends who lost
their lives,” said David.
My father said he was going
back to check on the injured
men. Then another bomb exploded . . .
It was the night that brave rescue worker James
Davison never came home... he lost his life trying
to save others. James, aged 50, worked in the
city engineer's department and had been appointed
staff officer of the City Rescue Squad stated
at the Corporation Depot in Westwick Street.
His wife Ethel ran the grocer's shop on the corner
of Hotblack Road and Athill Street where the family
lived.
Daughter Stella, now Mrs Hutson of Lowestoft,
takes up the story:
“I was 21 at the time and was enrolled as
a full-time air-raid warden. On Monday, April
27, 1942 my father had already left home when
my duty had finished. When the siren sounded we
soon realised this was for real. The sky became
bright with flares, and machine guns could be
heard.
“There was no time to dress, so I pulled
on my uniform over pyjamas. Made sure my mother
and sister were in the shelter and reported for
duty.
“The noise was unbelievable, the screeching
bombs, followed by explosions. I was called out
to help several people. One incident I went to
was in Waterworks Road where, among others, one
house was very badly damaged and where the occupants
used an indoor Morrison shelter. There was no
way they could have escaped.
“By this time we were hearing news of buildings
being destroyed, one of which was the Corporation
Depot at Westwick Street. I asked the leader of
the rescue party what he knew. When I said my
father was there, he then asked his name but then
didn’t say another word.
“We worked all through the night and in the
morning were dispatched in pairs to do a house-to-house
survey looking for unexploded bombs. I was struck
by the atmosphere. People were preparing breakfast
as usual and we were offered numerous cups of
tea.
“The sights were, of course, very distressing,
with people’s belongings hanging out of damaged
buildings and the awful smell which hung in the
air for days.
“During the morning I popped into the shop
and my mother said she was worried because my
father had not returned home. I told her not to
worry as he was obviously busy overseeing rescue
operations.
“Later on the afternoon of Wednesday, April
29, he was reported missing, Then Mr Taylor called
at the house to say a rescue party had found the
remains of a body which were later identified
as being my father.
“He had been with a fire-watch team at the
Westwick Depot. They took a hit early in the raid
and men were injured. My father and another man
made a run for cover — then my father said
he was going back to check on the injured men.
Then another bomb exploded.
“My father’s colleague was taken to
hospital after the raid and was waiting for him
to turn up but he never arrived… although
60 years have passed, memories of those times
are still very vivid,” said Stella.
Whenever I saw an aircraft overhead
I would dive into the nearest ditch
“Under the table!” shouted mum... and
10 year old June Wright along with her two brothers
John (13) and Norman (7) made a dash for it.
The bombs had started to drop and Helen Wright
was worried. There was no time to make it to the
shelter. So she got her three children under the
table and dragged armchairs around them to provide
some protection. She probably saved their lives.
As the family huddled together under the table
at their home at Gremorne Terrace off Rupert Street
(right) a bomb hit the house. The upstairs caved
in and a bed landed on top of the table.
“We were terrified but there was nothing
we could do. We were trapped,” said June,
now Mrs Minter, as she recalled the Blitz.
Apart from the boys being cut by a wall mirror
that shattered they were not hurt - but they were
going nowhere. They were trapped in the middle
of the ruins of their home.
“We spent all night under the table and then
we were rescued the next day by Scottish soldiers.
Somehow we had survived,” said June. “I
remember trying to pull my nightie down as the
soldiers lifted me out,” she added.
They had nothing left. “We went to a welfare
centre at Crook’s Place School (now Bignold)
where the ladies were very kind. I was given a
long grey dress which I wore all day and all night,”
he said.
And when their dad, Henry Wright, came home on
leave to discover his home blown up he went on
a desperate search to find his family who were
staying with relatives and friends.
“We walked to Cawston where my brothers stayed
and then I walked to Reepham where I stayed,”
said June.
“I missed all my family and friends and had
awful nightmares, Whenever I saw an aircraft overhead
I would dive into the nearest ditch — but
I never told anyone,” she added.
We were exactly mid-way between
the two bombs
— a split second away from death
“Thank God we are here to tell the tale,”
says Sheila Galey who back in the dark days of
the Norwich Blitz was sheltering from the bombs
with her family at Hill House Road.
She was married in early 1942 and her husband
went off to serve with the RAF.
“We spent the night of the first raid on
April 27 sheltering under the stairs as the bombs
dropped quite close. Then on the second raid we
went into the shelter in the garden,” says
Sheila.
“One bomb fell in the back garden of the
house opposite, demolishing it and killing the
occupants. The blast took the front of our house
out completely but left the back wall, kitchen
and scullery standing.
“The next bomb fell in Ella Road so we were
exactly mid-way between the two — a split
second away from death,” recalled Sheila
who now lives in Cromer. “Next day we salvaged
what we could from the ruins including our wedding
presents. A neighbour whose house had escaped
damage took a bone china tea set to look after
until the war was over.
“The rest of the presents were stored in
a Norwich warehouse for safe-keeping. Later on
the warehouse was burnt down leaving us with just
a bone china tea service,” says Sheila.
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