by Doreen Bates
E is having a week off – perhaps 10 days, probably not going away. He seems to be surviving the raids though with some strain. He slept little at night because he invited their neighbours to share their shelter and there wasn’t room to lie down. Last Monday’s efforts produced no result and last time we should have tried I was at Ivinghoe, so this month is no good; next time I hope we can try, if necessary using Elsie’s new room.
SUNDAY 8 SEPTEMBER
Raids every day at night but little damage that I saw or heard till yesterday. We had peace till 5.00. Then, in an hour and a half, the heaviest raid of the war on England. In the shelter with R and S I could hear machine guns as our fighters tackled the raiders. When we emerged afterwards there was a huge cloud of smoke north east along the Thames estuary and as dusk fell a crimson redder than the sunset lit the sky. It was focused in three huge fires which we later heard were the Surrey docks, and other property in the crowded East End. The blaze was impressive and frightening – the biggest I have seen since the Crystal Palace fire. The knowledge that the raids would be renewed with the fire as a guide in the night made it worse. At 8.30 the sirens went again and the All Clear did not go until 4.20. Then we could tell by the duller glare of the reflection and the absence of leaping flames that the biggest fire had been controlled. The first half hour was the worst – bombs and explosions and machine gun fire, but I did not think they were very near. Then a whistle which I thought might be a screaming bomb some distance away; no explosion, but a clanky rattle very near at hand. It sounded like a cup or plate or a tray falling to the ground and I looked all round the shelter and front part of the garage for it. Then I thought it might be a piece of shrapnel on the Gregorys’ roof knocking a slate off and the two falling to the ground; in a lull I opened the door to make sure it wasn’t an incendiary bomb fallen on the house. It was only in the morning that I found an incendiary bomb with its tip buried in the cement of the step just beneath my nose.
I diagnosed an incendiary from 1) the splashes of white all round it where the magnesium had spluttered out; 2) the fact that there was no explosion; 3) the size. It had not fully burned and had done no damage at all, even to 3 brooms about a foot and a half away. It had evidently hit the garage roof and glanced off into the cement which stifled the burning and prevented it from going off completely. We were not certain, however, so M told Mr Oxborrow (a warden). He came and was not sure – in fact, we had Dick O, Mr and Mrs Endacott, Mr Gurney, Geoffrey O, Alec Gurney, about 5 people I didn’t know, a policeman who took away the cap, and none of them knew for certain. A man called Smith who works for the Times and takes official photographs of damage and unidentified dead bodies was certain and told us a lot about bombs. Mrs Vivian also was certain – ‘just like 8 we picked up on the farm’. So we became quite notorious. It is at present unmoved under a bucket labelled ‘Don’t touch’. R was good on the whole but rather upset this morning. The official estimate of casualties yesterday was 400 killed, 1,100 injured. There was a warning this morning which we spent in the Os’ shelter which is reputed exceedingly good but is in fact no bigger than ours.
Bomb damage in Portman Street, central London
It has been difficult to get on with work although I had one interview with Mr Thompson of White, Tomkins and Courage Ltd in the office air raid shelter; it was awkward without a table but not too bad and I had to chat to him politely for 30 minutes before the All Clear went.
TUESDAY 10 SEPTEMBER
On Sunday evening the siren went at 8.30 before we had finished supper. We slept in the shelter, not waking till 7.45 am. We didn’t hear the siren giving the All Clear at 6.20. M and I set off at 8.35 for Purley. No trains to London Bridge, or to Victoria beyond Clapham Junction (though this was remedied by midday). I had to go on a slow electric to Balham. I reached the Bank at 10.35 and walked along King William St, where there was hardly a pane of glass intact, towards the Monument which was badly knocked about. There was a cordon of wardens to keep people out. I could see two blocks almost demolished, another gutted with just walls and skeleton standing; piles of glass and masonry all over the road, shop windows blown out. Windows were broken in Fenchurch St but improved further east. Walsingham House and its immediate neighbourhood were intact. I went up in the lift at 10.50, worked hard and went to lunch at 12.40. Nothing hot and cooked except coffee.
E phoned me yesterday afternoon. He was all right – he was duly impressed with our incendiary. He laughed when I said I wanted to try again on Friday. He is still gardening.
WEDNESDAY 11 SEPTEMBER
R listened in at 6.00 and heard Churchill broadcast. He said invasion was likely in the next few days. So we must hope for a gale. Anyway we shall go down fighting or we shall hit back and win. A lunatic world – but what can one do with a people who understand no argument but force?
THURSDAY 12 SEPTEMBER
Lunched with E, though he said it was ‘very foolish’. He seemed not too bad though they have had bombs near them, but he couldn’t possibly try for a baby now. Though I almost expected it, it made me feel worse than any air raid yet. It is such a short time to try and there is always something. He can’t help it, but it seems so strange to be more concerned about raids which one can’t help. He seemed to feel it unreasonable of me not to feel the same. I don’t know what to do about him. I can see I must take his weakness with his strength as one is the shadow of the other – but …
FRIDAY 13 SEPTEMBER
We had a very bad day. Last night was fairly quiet though the All Clear did not go till 5.50. Another warning woke me in bed at 7.40 but I went in to hear the news and cook the breakfast which we had in the shelter. The raid finished at 8.40 and M and I caught the 9.11. At Riddlesdown we heard there was a yellow warning and at Norbury the siren went. The train did not go beyond Clapham Junction but at last we got a Brighton train to Victoria. There we were told to take cover. As we left the train at 11.05 I wanted a coffee but there was nowhere serving so we went into a gloomy shelter at Grosvenor Gardens. Suddenly we heard bombs and AA guns and machine guns and an aeroplane below the balloons. Later we heard there had been six bombs on Buckingham Palace and one on Hyde Park. After an interval and another burst of gunfire it quieted down and at 1.20 we went to the big ABC and had lunch – bread and cheese and butter and I had two coffees. Just as we finished the All Clear went at 1.58. I then tried to get to the City. I walked from London Bridge to Walsingham House just in time to see Salmon going home at 3.00. Everyone else had gone. I went with him to the Bank and found McAdam and John waiting for a tube going south. John told me not to try to get up tomorrow.
I don’t know what E has been doing – just no opportunity of phoning. But I felt dismal about him, though more philosophical after playing Bach and Mozart.
The AA barrage is banging away. It is amazing how satisfactory it is in spite of the noise; R is dozing undisturbed.
TUESDAY 17 SEPTEMBER
This morning it was pouring with rain and we intended to catch an early train. At 8.00 the warning went and within 5 minutes there were bangs. Perkin told me he was on Coulsdon platform and saw a bomber crash over Purley. After the All Clear went we were not too unlucky – train to Balham and lorry (6d) to London Bridge; about 30 people crowded into the lorry – a ramshackle affair which rattled along well. There was only one hold-up, at the Elephant. I got to the office at 10.50. Managed to dictate my letters, do a little assessing and some post. Lunched with E. At 3.00 the siren went and after 4.30 the All Clear and I went with Salmon to Moorgate. The usual crush but at Balham I caught a fast train to Purley – and even went to the library at 6.30.
In the lorry I heard two rumours – one that the tale that Hitler had tried an invasion a week ago, and it failed, is true, though the ‘very good authority’ would not give the number of German dead and doubted whether the 50,000 mentioned was right; the other that the Germans have used poison gas at Coulsdon and there have been casualties, though slight.
Salmon is getting more
cordial. I rather like his brand of scepticism and his kind of mind – exact and intellectual in one way, but slack and mad in another; not too serious but not flippant.
WEDNESDAY 18 SEPTEMBER
Another day of raid warnings. The siren went at 12.45 just as I was going to meet E. We gave it up and he phoned at 3.0 and talked for a minute or two and arranged, if possible, to lunch at 12.15 tomorrow.
In the lunchtime raid I looked out of my window and saw the trails of white smoke which show the paths of the planes high up over the Thames estuary.
FRIDAY 20 SEPTEMBER
M and R are asleep and the night is again disturbed by bombs and guns and planes though not such a pandemonium yet as usual.
M never got home at all on Wednesday and though we guessed she had worked late and stayed in town the 8.00 am news announcement that casualties had been heavy – 90 dead reported – was not encouraging. I felt very dismal and worried when I got to the office with no news. My phone was dead but I managed to get to Holland Road from Fenchurch Street PO. She was all right and had not been able to phone. It seems impossible to get Purley (a toll call) from Town now. She had been detained by an urgent case – a woman on the point of having a baby who wanted to be evacuated as her house had been bombed and she was billeted in a school with no facilities for a confinement. M stayed in Chiswick and a bomb dropped in the next street. We couldn’t ring R up so M went home early.
At 3.00 yesterday UCH phoned and asked me to give blood. I arranged to get there at 5.00. UCH had had a bomb through the roof and was a bit disorganized. Nevertheless they didn’t keep me waiting and the boy was more efficient than the last one. There was the same difficulty in making the blood flow, but finally it did – in fact, it flowed too much after he had put a bandage on it, and dripped down my sleeve, on to the floor and he had to begin again. I kept the bandage on till this evening and suffered an inconveniently stiff arm all day, but now after a bath the stiffness and soreness is very local and slight. I was glad to give it – a tithe of my blood – since it was one pint out of the approximate ten pints available.
Lunched with E yesterday and today. We have very short lunches and talk of little but air raids and work, but it is nice to see him. It seems odd to be seeing more of Salmon than of him; I like S, he lends me loads of books which I must read. A letter (without an address but postmarked Manchester) from B reached me today – quite friendly – hoping we were all right in the raids.
Travelling was better today. There was a train marked London Bridge in East Croydon this morning. More in faith than belief I got in and though it moved with the air of an explorer forging through primeval forests it did at length get there. I noticed that Forest Hill goods yard was in a mess, due, I heard, to a landmine. I looked out south over Bermondsey from New Cross Gate to London Bridge and saw many broken chimneys and windows, roofs gone or damaged, a few gaps in the houses with heaps of bricks; on the whole I was surprised at the small amount of damage superficially visible – whole streets seemed untouched – the Bermondsey Council flats look quite whole. It made me feel that if this area – one of the worst – was not more stricken it would take a long time to reduce London to ruins.
MONDAY 23 SEPTEMBER
A lovely golden day, fresh and sunny; I wore my red frock.
Lunched with E but felt dismal. He seemed so remote. He said he was just a walking machine. He felt all the time that a bomb might drop on his head and he can think of little else. It is even less stimulating than his sheer pessimism of April and May.
MONDAY 30 SEPTEMBER
Still cold; and no heating in the office yet. My hands were frozen. Last night there were more bombs on Purley. An oil bomb fell on a garden in Brancaster Lane, made a filthy smother but was put out in five minutes. I was awakened about 5.00 this morning by the whistle and explosion of at least 2 bombs but R and M slept through them.
I listened to the news and to Priestley’s Postscript last night – which was about meat and potato pies. He is excellent. I told M and R and E about it and even at second hand it was very successful.
THURSDAY 3 OCTOBER
I didn’t do much work today – talked a lot to Salmon who calls me Bianca (derived from Casabianca, because I dislike going to the shelter). He brought me two books by the man he lives with, and said I must come to lunch to tell him what I thought of them.
An interview for an hour this morning with an accountant who was somewhat of an expert on EPT. He began by being sniffy about my methods but I did manage to score a bit and he went away less sniffy.
FRIDAY 4 OCTOBER
Very little fresh work coming in. I am struggling with two shipping companies, EPT. It is most laborious; each ship has to be done separately. One has about 150 barges and tugs and the other about 50 large ships. Salmon came in and sympathized two or three times and we talked about the prospect of re-educating Germany to be civilized.
SATURDAY 5 OCTOBER
Sunny, and the wind has gone south-west. A lovely day except that we have had alarms off and on all day – a nasty dive bomb over Kenley while M and I were shopping in Purley. We were driven out of Woolworths and went to a public shelter under a shop opposite. It was full-ish, and we smuggled S in under M’s arm. She turned out to be an asset as she entertained babies who were getting tired of the shelter.
MONDAY 7 OCTOBER
Worked hard today, clearing up the assessing. Three books finished, one more tomorrow. Raids off and on all day, but E was not nervous at lunch. We had rather a nice talk – just as I was getting fed up.
Salmon asked me to go to lunch at Golders Green on Thursday – a whole day’s leave! He will play some records when his friend isn’t talking about Art. I like his subtlety and his refusal to impose.
A letter from Elsie and one from Reen who is resigning on Saturday and marrying next week.
TUESDAY 8 OCTOBER
A day of raid after raid. The night raid finished at 7.15. This morning the alarm went as soon as we had started for Riddlesdown Station and 5 minutes later the air was vibrating with the sound of planes. My train did go to London Bridge via Streatham, but it took 70 minutes. We passed a Victoria train and though the side blinds were down the windows were all open and people’s faces filled them gazing up at the fighting which I reckon must have been high over the Thames estuary. I saw one man in a first class carriage leaning back comfortably smiling and watching through glasses. Two women in my carriage were watching all the time. At various times in the morning we heard bombs, planes and AA. I was told that bombs had hit Bush House, a bus in Holborn, Staple Inn, Horse Guards Parade, Charing Cross Station, Billingsgate and Tooley St.
I was dismal at lunch because E was hopeless about starting a baby. He said he was doing nothing but sleeping and working and was still terrified. But at last he said when, and how – ‘You are asking a great deal – I shall have to see.’ Elsie had asked me to lunch at her room on Saturday, so it may be possible.
THURSDAY 10 OCTOBER
Today I have spent a day’s leave with Salmon at Golders Green. So tired now, but a lovely stimulating day. Brilliant sunshine and deep blue sky all the way from Victoria on the 2 bus and the fifteen minutes’ walk with Salmon to his house.
The house is fuller of pictures than any I have seen, mostly watercolours – but three reproductions (one of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, one of the Canal bridges, one of Bruegel’s Winter), several drawings and watercolours of O’Neill, several watercolours of linocuts of Claude – Flight into Egypt – and Edith Shackleton. I just couldn’t take them in as Salmon made me look at one after another. It was too much. O’Neill is nice – looks fierce at first. I felt terribly shy. He had piercing blue eyes and a bushy moustache. Tall, almost towering. Not so fierce to talk to as to read. I felt quite inadequate except in interest. We had a large but attractive Viennese lunch cooked by Elizabeth, the Austrian housekeeper, who has a most humorous face though she might be very trying.
After lunch Mr O’Neill has to rest and S play
ed records – Schnabel in a Beethoven Sonata; Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Lotte Lehmann in a Schubert song; even Beethoven’s violin concerto with Kreisler. In the middle of it – so fateful; it is odd how associations repeat and complicate themselves – he said, ‘Don’t get too fond of me.’ We had a queer, bitty conversation, most of which was not said at all, interrupted by turning Beethoven on the gram. There wasn’t time or opportunity to say much, but I am afraid we may be hopelessly at cross purposes. I want to be honest with him. It was so queer just to be told by someone not to fall for him, and be left to infer all the rest. He said, ‘It is so nice to talk to someone. You will think me a swine – your voice gives you away.’ He kissed me – I liked it – I don’t mind if it doesn’t hurt him or E. How queerly one is made. I could enjoy his kisses (as well as his talk, for the stimulus of another person with similar but slightly different interests is always enjoyable) – but that he should want to kiss me. Why can’t one be just platonic? It is quite possible to be in love with one man and yet to enjoy physical stimulation from another – partly the music and the opportunity, and the fact that E is completely cold and machine-like, reduced to an automaton by the air raids while I am not. It is difficult – I foresee another mess – at least a complication. I suppose I am hopelessly imprudent. Anyway, there it is!