PART II
PERFORMANCE
Chapter Eleven
TOWARDS THE END of August Richard had a week’s leave from his Ministry and we decided to get out of London and do some long walks, and with this purpose in view we went to Newlands Corner, which is a splendid centre for walking all over the Downs. There was a hotel there which had been a private house and it had a good library, which was essential as we both loved books, and it had delightful gardens. There had been constant short Alerts in London the preceding week when I had been doing several shifts as relief at the Control Centre while some of the telephonists were on holiday.
The warning system was given by the use of colours. Purple was the colour used for the first warning, denoting that enemy planes were sighted approaching from the coast. Then followed the yellow, which was a general signal for readiness by all ARP Services, and then the final red, which was the signal for the sounding of the Alert for the general public. The wardens’ posts all had telephonic connexion with their various points and huts, and from these the reports of incidents and requests for Services were telephoned to Control. It was very exciting and also alarming to know that these signals were actually real ones – and no longer practice ones. I think we all had butterflies in our stomachs as we waited after the red signal for the incidents to come through. We were all keyed up to efficiency after the long wait for action and the innumerable practices and rehearsals, and everyone was determined to come up to scratch so as not to let down our indefatigable chief, Mr Cane. But after the Alerts came through nothing further happened, and the white signal – which meant the sounding of the All Clear for the public – would come, finding us all relieved and yet rather disappointed that we could not prove our worth and justify our long training.
We left for Newlands Corner on the 24th. Mrs Freeth, who refused to have a holiday, saying that she would look after my billetee, Larry, to whom Kathleen had offered to give meals with Cecil. The country round the Hog’s Back was looking glorious and the weather was wonderful – hot and sunny, absolutely perfect for a holiday and for leisurely, if not arduous walks. Richard’s friend, Delves Molesworth, whom we called Moley, and who was also in the Ministry, came down with his wife, Eve, to visit us there. The first few days were glorious and we walked miles across the Hog’s Back and followed the old bridle paths on the top of the Downs. It was clear and we could see the landscape spread out as a map below. Then we began hearing distant sirens frequently – but as the country was so open it was difficult to know from which direction they were coming. When we asked at the hotel no one seemed to know – and the few walkers on the Downs were not interested.
There had been continual aerial activity in the area round the Hog’s Back ever since we arrived, but the hotel manager told us that it had been so ever since Dunkirk. Now, at the end of August, we began seeing dog-fights overhead and watched our Spitfires chasing Messerschmitts and engaging in exciting battles, and in the still summer air we could hear the gunfire from the combatants and could see parachutists descending and the planes crashing down with a spurt of fire from their tails. It seemed impossible at first to believe that these were actual deadly battles and not mock ones as we had watched at aerial displays at Hendon. It gave one a strange, shaking, sick feeling of excitement to watch their every movement as though we were following with rapt attention a mock battle at Hendon, but never before had we seen such a thrilling exhibition of aeronautics! Twisting, turning, their guns blazing, the sunlight picking them out in the clear sky, they would dive under, over, round, and then straight at their opponents until one would fall in a trail of smoke and flame, often with a gleaming parachute like a toy umbrella preceding the final crash to earth.
It was horrible – but it had a macabre fascination impossible to resist. And after gazing spellbound I had to shake myself and face up to the realization that this was war – not mock war. This was the real thing and the queer excited sensation of suspense and apprehension which was causing the butterflies in my inside was one which thousands of us were to have with us very frequently, and I was glad that Richard was with me. He had been through unspeakable horrors in the 1914-18 war in France and was not under any illusion about what we might face in this one. And I thought then – nothing matters if you are with the person you want to be with – the importance of an event must always be relative, and because of this we would be able to endure what Churchill had told us to expect.
One German plane came extremely low, dropping papers all over the Downs and I collected a great bundle of them. They were two different pamphlets, both extracts from Hitler’s Reichstag speech; one was headed, ‘A last Appeal to Reason’ and the other ‘From the Führer’s Speech’. I already had one which my sister had sent me entitled, ‘The Battle of the Atlantic is being lost’, but these were the first I had had literally thrown at my feet.
Richard said that we were dropping pamphlets all over Holland, France, Belgium, and Norway and Denmark as well as over Germany. Paper warfare seemed extraordinary to me, but propaganda had proved its danger and value already.
The battles in the air continued all day and during a very fierce fight a German plane flew even lower than the one which had dropped pamphlets, machine-gunning right across the Hog’s Back. It seemed to be coming right at us as we stood there gazing at the battles in the sky, and Richard dragged me suddenly into the shelter of some bushes as bullets spattered in our direction and all round. Vicki was down a rabbit hole and I thought she might get a bullet in her stern so I insisted on hauling her out. Richard was angry with me and dragged us both under cover again. He knew more about machine-gun bullets than I did, having been severely wounded by them in the 1914-18 war. When the plane had gone we hunted all round for a parachutist or a body fallen from a plane – but we could not find anyone. Distance is very difficult to judge from a great open space like the Hog’s Back, but the German pilot had certainly machine-gunned the actual spot where we were standing watching the fights so it seemed logical to conclude that there was some target in our locality. It was an alarming experience, but it aroused in me nothing but furious anger. It was late afternoon, almost dusk, when another wave of German planes came over and flew in the direction of Croydon, which we could see from where we stood.
That night the sirens sounded much nearer, and everyone was awakened in the small hotel and guests were asked to go to a somewhat inadequate air-raid shelter which had been erected in the garden. The planes were dropping flares and small incendiary bombs. Richard organized the men into parties to put out these incendiaries. There was a naval officer on leave staying in the hotel and Richard asked him to head one party. To everyone’s astonishment he refused – and would not leave the shelter at all. The hotel manager himself was splendid, as were the young waitresses who, frequently absent when needed because of the presence of Canadian troops in the neighbourhood, had returned from what the manager called ‘rolling for victory’, and joined the fire-fighting parties with enthusiasm. It was exciting stumbling about and extinguishing the firebombs with sand and stirrup pumps. We had all been instructed in the use of stirrup pumps but actually to use them for bombs was quite exhilarating. The bombs were small and easy to extinguish. I could not bear to be in the shelter and felt far safer in the open. We could see a great blaze which seemed to be in the direction of Croydon – certainly near London or on the outskirts. The thought that the raiders had actually got so far through the terrific defence being put up by our Spitfires gave us a terrible feeling of fury and resentment. The grass and heath were very dry from the last week’s hot weather and caught fire quickly as the small incendiaries fell, and we beat them out with branches, in organized lines, just as we had been taught would be necessary if undergrowth were alight, and although everyone was upset at the sight of the flames in the distance it was fun beating out the burning heather and it brought its own exhilaration.
When at last the All Clear went the manager gave us all drinks and we sat in the lounge and rea
d the pamphlets which I had picked up that afternoon. They caused much amusement because they revealed such a mistaken assessment of the British character. We telephoned Kathleen in the morning. Chelsea had had Alerts ever since we left – and last night a long Alert and they had heard the planes and bombs – everyone was upset and alarmed. She herself sounded quite unperturbed, however. She had the keys of our flat in case of fire and said that they were sleeping in the shelter but it was too small and very draughty – she hated it.
By the next night most of the guests in the hotel had left. After all, like us, they had come on holiday and wanted a peaceful place such as one expected Newlands Corner to be. There were several Alerts during the day, which was still and sunny, and again we watched aerial battles – although not so many. Soon after dark, however, the sirens sounded again and there was immediately a great rush of wings like a drove of hornets, a sound which was to become all too familiar, and another terrifying battle took place in the sky. Watching the doomed planes diving to earth with a plume of fire showing up in the dark sky was fearful. Again we could see a great light as of a huge fire in the direction of London. We spent most of the night out fire-watching. In the morning we again telephoned Kathleen. She did not sound so placid; there had been more Alerts, both day and night, the night raid had been horrible, with planes circling and the sound of bombs not so far away – she had not slept at all but Cecil and Anne had slept through most of it, she said. The milkman had told her that the bombs had dropped on Hammersmith and that there was a lot of damage. She was rather nervous and said that there was now general alarm. She mentioned something about an unexploded bomb but was very vague.
We decided to return at once, and left Newlands Corner to do some last-minute shopping for food in Guildford. Mrs Freeth did not expect us back until the following week and there would be no food for the week-end. In Guildford I found a duck. This was a treasure as poultry was unrationed and, planning to have a feast, I found late green peas and apples. The food in the hotel, as everywhere now, had been quite inadequate and we were both hungry.
On the journey to Waterloo we heard people talking about the bombing of Croydon and Hammersmith as if they could not really believe it. At Waterloo we met Moley. We did not ask him where he had been. We had already got into the war-time habit of not asking anyone anything – a curtain of hush-hush was rapidly descending on us all. He did, however, tell us that things were rapidly warming up in London and the last few nights had been very broken, with constant sirens shattering the peace of the capital, and that people were tired and depressed from lack of rest. The bombing of Hammersmith had been quite heavy, but the ARP Services had worked splendidly and that was what concerned his Ministry most.
We invited him to return with us and share the duck which I was going to cook that night for dinner – Blitz or no Blitz. As Eve was away he readily agreed. When we reached the Royal Hospital Road, however, it looked as though we would not get the duck, for to our astonishment Cheyne Place was roped off from exactly where No. 33 started, and a policeman was guarding it. When I lifted the ropes of the barrier to go into the house he came over and told us that there was an unexploded bomb in the neighbourhood and that we must evacuate the house.
At the beginning of the war we had all been told to have a packed suitcase always ready for emergencies. I had had one but as time went on and nothing happened I had removed one thing after another from it until it was empty.
I asked if I could go in to collect some clothes. The policeman was dubious –but when we pressed him to tell us where the bomb was he did not seem to know – his orders were to guard that piece of road and warn the occupants of a certain number of houses which might be affected. It seemed to me that the person most affected if it went off would be him – for he was standing in the middle of the street! A warden came along and said he didn’t know exactly where the bomb was but we’d better do as the policeman said. Then Major Harding Newman came along – he was our Deputy Chief of ARP and he knew me well. I asked him where the bomb was supposed to be. ‘Over there,’ he said, pointing in the direction of Burton Court, ‘somewhere in the grounds. As a matter of fact I don’t think there is any danger here, it’s just that this is in a direct line and there is an open space between it and these buildings. It’s a precaution.’
The policeman said that we entered at our own risk, which we did cheerfully enough, stepping over the barricade. Inside everything was in perfect order. Kathleen came down with Anne, excited and full of the previous night’s events. Both our billetees had been sent away by the authorities until the bomb was removed – the Army were taking no risks. When Anne had gone upstairs I asked how she and Cecil were getting on together. Anne seemed to like him, said Kathleen. They were going out together, and Anne was teaching him to dance. She said this as if she were not too happy about it. I knew that she found the Canadian rather a rough diamond. Kathleen minded such things as table manners and the more superficial niceties which from much travel I had found were of no real importance at all. She had been brought up in a world which placed value on them. I liked Cecil, and was glad that Anne was liking him too. She had been unhappy long enough; if Cecil could help her to get over her former disappointment then I welcomed it. Kathleen said that they had slept in the shelter at the back of the house for the last few nights, but that if I were willing to sleep in my own home – then she was.
We had the duck – but long before I had begun cooking it the sirens had sounded. They went at about six o’clock and there was a rush of planes just as we had heard at Newlands Corner. Nothing seemed to be happening around us – Richard and Moley kept a sharp look-out for incendiaries, and later we went up on the flat roof to watch the raid.
We never tasted anything better than that duck – and bombs or no bombs we were determined to enjoy it. Richard had been living at the Guards’ Club for some time and it had been so crowded that food had been very short. We fell upon the roast duck and there was absolutely nothing left of it but the bones when we had finished with it. We all slept in my hall and dining-room that night. It seemed to us to be the safest place with its one wall of ferro-concrete and its others protected by the archway. It was quite noisy, and for the first part of it we went out in turns to watch and deal with the small incendiaries which were falling just as they had done on Newlands Corner. It was fun and Anne enjoyed it too. She told us that neither Cecil nor Larry were allowed by their Army Regulations to help in fire-fighting. None of the troops in the Duke of York Barracks were permitted by their Regulations to do so either, and the wardens found it as infuriating to see all those khaki-clad males and be unable to enlist them in the fire-parties, as the men themselves found it galling to have to stand about and do nothing. Larry and Cecil, Anne said, had hit upon the ingenious device of borrowing civilian jackets and coats that they were not conspicuous and passed with the other civilian fire-fighters. As Richard was as tall as both of them I foresaw his being asked to lend some of his clothes.
In the morning Mrs Freeth arrived punctually as usual. I was astonished to see her and asked her if the policeman had let her through the barrier. ‘Lor,’ she said, ‘that thing’s been there for days – that didn’t stop me. The policeman doesn’t come on until eight o’clock – I come at half past seven!’ She told us that it had been quite exciting up her way, which was Westminster, and she seemed exhilarated, not frightened, by the raids. Chris, from the Control Centre, knowing that the doubtful bomb was in our area, had kindly gone down to see that she was all right. She came down when I telephoned that I was back and gave me all the news of the raids.
The refugees were excited and hysterical when they told me about all the Alerts they had had. The actual wailing of the sirens had an appalling effect on some of them – on others, like Catherine, it had none. To those who had already suffered from the Luftwaffe on their long trek out of Belgium and France it was what they had always expected and they bore it stoically. The ones who were hysterical and implored me to g
et them moved out of London before worse happened were, I found, those who had actually endured far less than the stoics. The Giant was one of the worst complainants – he burst out with imprecations against everything and everyone. It was useless to point out that he could have stayed in his own country as millions of others had done, he merely said that Britain had always set herself up as impregnable and they had expected safety. I got so angry arguing with him that I gave it up and left him to it. His wife was sullen and the child even whiter and more pinched. I saw that they all knew their shelters and had everything ready to take as soon as the sirens should sound. It was quite a task, for they all wanted to take the small bundles they had brought from their own countries with them – and some of them were heavy and the shelters none too large. They had already a great respect for Miss Reid, their warden.
At the FAP everything was calm and placid; those who had been away were back from holidays and I told them about the exciting aerial fights on the Hog’s Back and showed them all the pamphlets before giving them to the Town Hall. Betty Compton’s two small daughters were in the country, as were most children now, and I was wondering if some of the small Belgians should not be evacuated. This seemed difficult because the authorities were not willing that alien adults should leave London until all their screening was over, and the parents, quite naturally, were not willing to be separated from their children who had already suffered so much. I talked to Margerie Scott about it and she agreed with me that it was a pity that the children, including the Maltese, must stay in London. But it was difficult to find accommodation now outside London – the raids had sent thousands more Londoners fleeing out to any place which could take them. It was rumoured that we might get some of the East Enders in Cheyne Hospital.
A Chelsea Concerto Page 11