Liverpool's War - Part 1 of 3

WORLD WAR 2 — LIVERPOOL

I was born in Liverpool down by the docks
My religion was Catholic, occupation hard knocks….

As the Spinners’ song goes I was born in Liverpool in May 1935 and lived for 17 years in Hankin St which was at the junctions of Scotland Rd, Stanley Rd and Kirkdale Rd, less than three quarters of a mile from the Bramley Moore Dock. I was and still am a Catholic but as for hard knocks I don’t recall any particularly. Everybody experienced them and just got on with their lives during the war.

THE DAY WAR BROKE OUT

Rob Wilton, the famous Liverpool comedian, used to start his act by saying “The day war broke out” to be met with a smart rejoinder from his wife of “and what are you going to do about it then?” I personally was not equipped to do anything but I well remember “the day war broke out”. It was a bright, sunny, Sunday morning in September. My father called me in from playing in the street to listen to Neville Chamberlain (a politician who did Prime Minister impressions according to Spike Milligan) telling the country on the wireless that a state of war now existed between us and Nazi Germany.

I went out to play.

JUST A FEW CHANGES

At first nothing noticeable to a four year old happened. Things just crept up on you until they became part of every day.

I first realised something was wrong when the “Ovalteenies” of whom I was a keen member was taken off the air — Radio Luxembourg I think. Abject despair was the order of the day.

The next blow for us kids was that the Comics became hard to get and some actually closed down and in addition I’m sure that Ice Cream disappeared altogether at some time.

AIR RAID PRECAUTIONS

The next thing was that most people put wide, brown, gummed paper strips in criss-crosses on their windows. This was designed to prevent future bomb blasts from shattering the glass and showering the inhabitants with shards of glass. Some of the posher houses/or other buildings with large windows arranged the paper into artistic shapes for novelty’s sake. Every body had to put up “blackout” curtains which were very heavy, being made of thick materials, were larger than normal curtains and were black.
These were to prevent any chinks of light from the houses shining out into the streets because this would have served as guidance to the German bombers. It was a criminal offence to ignore the black out regulations and you could be fined if guilty. As the war progressed it was a regular thing to hear a ARP warden or policeman or such knocking hard on a door and shouting at the top of his voice so that everybody heard, not just the culprit, “PUT THAT B****Y LIGHT OUT”.

There was, of course, no street lighting at all, as it would also aide the enemy aircraft

Another novelty was to see all official buildings and some of the larger commercial buildings being protected by sandbags to prevent their being damaged from high explosive bombs.

All of us kids were next entertained by the erection of Air Raid Shelters. Our relations who were “rich” and lived in Norris Green — we knew they were rich because they had a proper garden with flowers and veg — were given an individual Andersen shelter which consisted of corrugated metal roof and sides and was sited in the garden partly below ground for stability and sometimes with a turfed roof. Sheer luxury.

One alternative was the Morrison shelter which was a metal caged structure with metal or heavy timber cladding. These were erected indoors, but no good to us as we did not have room.
From time to time I have heard reference to a “2 man” portable shelter but never been able to confirm if this was another reference to the Morrison.

The rest of us had to make do with a Communal Shelter. These comprised a single brick width four sided building with a concrete roof, one single lightweight door at each end, the minimum amount of rough timber seating screwed to the walls, a brick partition(no door) to accommodate an “Elsan” type w.c. They were built in the streets, they were communal, they had no light, no water, no heating, no ventilation other than the airbricks, and were on a first come first served principle. Fortunately for us our shelter was only a footpath’s width from our front door so carrying our bedding was no great problem. Gas masks were issued to everyone, even children and you had to learn how to put them on quickly. You had to carry them in a special box and belt over the shoulder whenever you were going more than a short distance from your house.

STRANGE BUT TRUE ?

A strange example of an Air Raid shelters was said to be a CENTURY OLD maze
of tunnels under New Brighton fun fair to accommodate only certain government offices.
Another strange example was discovered under the Church of St.Anthony of Egypt on Scotland Rd. There were tunnels which served as catacombs for the earthly remains of over 3,000 bodies buried after the Napoleonic War 200 years ago. All of the remains were relocated(still under the Church) in advance and pressed into service as one of the biggest public air raid shelters, certainly in Liverpool if not in the whole country. I have been advised that they will be open to the Public soon.

THE FIRST AIR RAIDS

First of all came the “Phoney War”. There was no bombing around Merseyside until about the first week of August 1940. It was very light until the end of the month when we had some heavy raids.

During September, October and November 1940 the raids seemed to be every night and increasing severity. There was a lull until a few days before Christmas when Hitler sent us our Christmas ‘present’ of three interminable raids lasting up to 11 hours each and with increasingly heavier loss of life than previously experienced.
It was during this time I think that one of the stands at Goodison Park was hit and as he was on duty that night and being a life-long EVERTONIAN I believe he took this as a personal insult. Elsewhere severe damaged occasioned the Argyle Theatre, Birkenhead, two of the main railway stations, St George’s Hall and Mill Road Hospital were heavily damaged.
There was a story that on the day of the raid a senior nurse and other staff had a premonition and although no raid was expected by the authorities they were persuaded to remove all children from the hospital. That night there was a heavy raid killing over 60 adults but no babies.

However it was not all doom and gloom for us kids. For a start in our childishness we were not scared by the air raids. In our naivety they were a bit of an adventure. We did not realise how frightened our parents were. We would go to bed early and often slept in the parlour because it was downstairs, nearest to the front door and easy to get out. Our day clothes were all arranged in order so that we could dress within seconds (or so it seemed). At the first sound of the wailing siren we dressed speedily, got our toy or book while my mother would have to organise water, candles, torch, and a nappy change for the baby etc. My father was always on duty at such times as he was a senior warden in the area.
We couldn’t get out of the house fast enough, not because of the danger, but because of the interest and excitement. The searchlights flashed their huge beams around the sky in a futuristic science fiction sabre dance. The sight of a silent barrage balloon caught momentarily in the flash of the searchlights and with a reflection on their silver bodies of the strange purple light of the flares floating gently to ground was the eeriest of pictures.
This was expectation unparalleled and it held out the promise of a shrapnel search next day.

You knew when the air raid was over when you heard a different siren “The All Clear “

A FRIGHTENING EXPERIENCE

One night during a ferocious air raid we were instructed by the Civil Defence wardens that because there was too much smoke in the shelter we had to get out and go to another shelter some streets away.. When we went into the street, although it was dark, the whole sky was lit up as bright as noon. There were German flares falling all around giving off a menacing, brilliant, purple glow. The house next door but one had been bombed, as had another just opposite, there were several on fire just down the street, and you could see a red hot glow from massive fires streets away.
After a long hectic and fearful night in the shelters we got up to go to school or church to find that our school, St. Gerard Majella in Boundary St. had been razed to the ground as had the adjacent Protestant Church of St. James the Less in Cranmer St., plus the world famous theatre called “The Rotunda “, plus several houses and businesses locally.

From our point of view as kids it was a good thing that Hitler’s Luftwaffe bombed our school, not once but twice. There was always hope he would do it again.
The joy lasted fleetingly. We were soon shipped off to Stanley Rd. Board School a short distance along Stanley Rd. We just about settled in when another raid made us school-less. Again we were soon accommodated along Scotland Rd to St. Anthony of Egypt’s school. This did not last, although it was not bombed we were then sent to Ashfield St school near St.Sylvester’s in Sylvester St.

ANOTHER FRIGHTENING EXPERIENCE

Another particular incident I recall with fear was” The night that Jerry dropped Gas on defenceless civilians”.

It was up to that point a run of the mill air raid shelter stay. There was plenty of action but none too near our shelter. Then …..Deathly silence. Had we heard that warning sound properly? It was a whistle or a rattle but never used unless there was a suspicion of a gas attack. We kids did not understand but all of the adults knew only too well. The First World War was a mere 23 years gone bye and the idea of gassing civilians terrorised them. We could not leave the shelter without permission/instruction of the Civil Defence. Mild panic set in. Then the order to leave came. We were led several hundred yards away and ‘ re-housed ‘ for the rest of the night. Then as quickly as it sprang up the fear was swept away by the news that what had actually happened was that a paint or chemical factory nearby had taken a direct hit. A high explosive had blown a 45 gallon barrel of chemicals which landed against a wall, split open over the wall and pavement and lay there giving off a nauseous smell for several hours. The adults hurried home whispering prayers of thanks giving and the lads dreamt of shrapnel.

THE MAY BLITZ

After the Christmas Blitz mentioned above there was only sporadic air raids from January to April 1941.
Then came Hitler’s last throw!
On the 1st day of May, Liverpool was subject to the most ferocious and savage attack of the war. As each night went by the fires were increasingly widespread, the bombs were heavier, the casualty list longer and bloodier, the damage to businesses, public services etc more critical. It was during this period that The Main Post Office, the India Building, the Museum, the Main Library, and the Parish Church of St. Nicholas at the Pier Head, the “s.s. Malakand”** in the Huskisson Dock, and many other important buildings including the magnificent Church of St. Luke at the top of Bold Street were hit.
St.Luke’s was never rebuilt but its shell remains to this day, sited in a garden dominating that area of the city and reminding us all of the futility of war.
That was Hitler’s last desperate attempt on Liverpool before he turned to Russia. There was the odd solo raid until Janauary 1942 when they ceased.

Ref the s.s.”Malakand”. She was loaded with 1,000 lbs of high explosives and berthed in the dock which came under fire several times with such ferocity that the Fire Brigade and other authorities were overcome. After hours of heroic struggle the ship exploded after receiving a direct hit. The effect was devastating. The fire was intense. Debris showered over ships in neighbouring docks, warehouses, houses on shore. Dense clouds of smoke covered great swathes of Merseyside. Although there were casualties I believe that there were no fatalities on that raid.

ALL CLEAR — BUT NOT ALL WELL

Often, the day after a bombing raid you would discover that the bombs had fractured Gas Pipes, Water Mains, Electricity or Telephone cables(although we had neither of these in our house), and so we had to wait for or go to find a water bowser so that we could obtain water in a bucket to wash or cook with. For the Gas you would just have to wait (some times for days) until the pipe was mended by the Gas Board.
In the meantime we had to use candles or oil lamps for lighting and a coal fire to cook on. Often in winter during times of shortage the coal was not delivered so we kids would have to ‘muck in’ with older neighbours’ kids to go to the Gasworks down Atholl St. and up and over the canal bridge. To us, pulling and pushing the hired hand carts up those streets were like climbing Everest.
Another problem after air raids was that the bombs left huge craters in the streets or large buildings had collapsed across roads so that busses and trams (and railway trains) could not get through to their destinations. This meant that you often had to walk to work or school by a roundabout route to avoid danger.

ALL CLEAR —AND ALL WELL ???
However there was a minor benefit for the kids after a raid. Once a building had been made safe from collapse it was a heaven sent place to build a ‘den’ in secret from your parents and any other local “gangs”.
If the Corporation did in fact raze the said building to the ground to re-use the materials they always left the site neat, tidy and above all levelled. What a boon ! A first class football pitch and a cricket pitch.
The only other work carried out to bombed sites was to those that had a reasonably expansive area and a reasonably deep basement or cellar. These were cleared of all rubble. The walls and base were waterproofed and filled to form an E.W.S. — Emergency Water Supply for use by the Fire and associated services.

EVACUATION
Like most families we were evacuated. Generally it was organised by the local authority Education department on a local area basis or on their behalf by schools and churches but somehow or other our family were not covered by these arrangements and we had to act privately.
Firstly, we used to go on an ad hoc basis with several neighbours on a flat back lorry owned by Mr. Reid who lived opposite, to the little towns and villages close to Liverpool, such as Aughton, Maghull, Lydiate etc. We would sleep overnight in village halls, school halls and W.I. halls. When the bombing stopped we would be driven home on the next day.
Secondly, a friend of my Dad lent us his house in Prenton, Birkenhead. It seemed very grand with a big garden for us four kids to play in and with stacks of toys. Unfortunately we had not realised just how near it was to the Docks. One day a landmine was dropped in the next road and the blast blew a cup out of my sister’s hand and she was left holding just the handle on her index finger. We went home next day.
Finally, we went as a single family to live on a farm near Cemaes Bay on the island of Anglesey. There was at least one other English family, and possibly more, billeted at the farmhouse and compared to Liverpool it was paradise to us kids. We had to go to “school” in the next village but the shortest journey was through adjoining farms and not using or crossing any public highway. We walked up rocky paths, through farm yards, wheat fields, root crop fields, meadows for cows and sheep, over stiles, through gates, over streams, about 7 or 8 of us without an adult In winter I remember it as starting in the pre-dawn dark and returning home after nightfall. We stayed about 18 months but I cannot remember what we did for Christmas/New Year. Eventually after the air raids finished we went back to Liverpool, because we missed our friends and relations and especially our father and grandfather who had had to stop at home to look after the house and to go to work, both being full time in Civil Defence.
A few years ago we traced the current family who were all teenagers in the early 1940’s and have visited them twice. But that is another story.

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