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Bath at War, 1939–45
Bath at War, 1939–45
Bath at War, 1939–45
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Bath at War, 1939–45

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Bath at War 1939-45 is a comprehensive account of the citys experience of the conflict, covering in detail life on the Home Front set against the background of the wider theatres of war.The narrative of that global struggle is given with a focus on the ordeals endured by the people of Bath, as they cheered their men and women fighters off to war, welcomed thousands of evacuated men, women and children to the city, and faced the full might of Hitlers Luftwaffe.Rare insights into the life of the war-torn city are included, along with untold stories from the footnotes of history, from the Bath blitz to the influx of American GIs. The book incorporates memoirs and memories, along with in depth research from official records and newspaper accounts, so the reader sees the war from the perspective of ordinary people, although the military experiences of Baths citizens - and in many cases their tragic sacrifices - are also included.More controversial topics are also touched upon, such as civil defense, military injustice, racism and local politics, to give a full and fascinating picture of a great city facing profound trials of endurance and courage, thus revealing the many characteristics which has sustained Bath throughout its illustrious history.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 30, 2018
ISBN9781526706300
Bath at War, 1939–45

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    Bath at War, 1939–45 - David Lassman

    Introduction

    When travelling abroad, most people will, at some time or another, be asked where they come from. On relaying this information there will normally be one of two reactions on the face of the person asking the question: either a blank stare or a smile of recognition. Being able to say ‘Bath’ as your home town brings with it not only the knowledge that you live in one of the most beautiful and historically important cities in the world, but also that you will encounter, most times, the latter reaction.

    The city of Bath, along with London and Stratford-upon-Avon, is one of the three places in England everyone knows; with anywhere else in this island being a matter of chance. An apocryphal story this might be, but worth the telling none the less: A resident of Bristol going to foreign climes travels through various countries. He is asked by the inhabitants where he comes from and, again and again, it is blank stares he receives. Even when he says that the place he hails from was voted by The Sunday Times in 2017 the best place to live in the whole of Britain, he receives the same reaction. It is only when it is clarified by the person saying ‘Bristol, near Bath’ that he receives the reaction normally accorded to actual residents of this ‘near’ city.

    To most people Bath represents one of two historic periods – the Roman or the Georgian; both having left behind world famous and iconic monuments which are the main reasons almost a million tourists visit the city every year. When we were growing up in the 1960s, Bath was still known as the Roman City. The Roman Baths were seemingly the centre of the city’s universe and visits to, or school projects about them were a regular occurrence. It is only through the promotion in more recent years of the city’s connection with Jane Austen that its Georgian period has been catapulted into the same league as the Roman. For the authors of this book however, as true Bathonians – having been born and educated here – the city also represents another historic period: that of the Second World War onwards. Our learning was not done in any classroom, but rather at home, through stories, memories and the reminiscences of our parents, both of whom lived through the time this book covers. For us, the entire war – its announcement, the ‘Phoney War’, Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain, the Bath Blitz, the Leroy Henry case, VE Day, VJ Day, etc – can only be experienced second-hand. For our mother and father, growing up in wartime in Weston village and Lower Swainswick (respectively), these events formed the fabric of their early lives. We also had other relatives who served, and we have woven their stories into this account wherever we can. It is to our eternal regret that our parents are no longer alive to see this book in print, or our dedication of it to them; but we had been commissioned to write it before our father died and so the final period of his life allowed an opportunity to recall his stories once more and to clarify any details we were uncertain about. We only hope that we have done them proud with this book and that on reading it they would have said, ‘Yes, that is how it was.’

    The War Memorial at Haycombe Cemetery.

    One aspect of the war did have a major impact on the lives of both authors. On leaving school the authors went to work for the Admiralty, as so many other school leavers also did; it was still located in the city several decades after being evacuated there in September 1939. Although still resident at the time in the Empire Hotel, the main sites the Admiralty occupied within the city remained Foxhill, Warminster Road and Ensleigh. One of the authors spent time at the first, before transferring to the second, while the other author worked for three years at the latter. All three sites have now sadly gone though, and at the time of writing are in the process of being replaced by residential housing.

    The authors’ grandfather (Ernest Lassman) and uncle (Ronald Lassman); both served in the RAF during the war.

    There are other books on this period of the city’s history available, indeed some with similar titles, most notably those by David and Jonathan Falconer. Although worthwhile reads, we feel our book has something additional to offer. Whereas their first book, Bath at War, relied heavily – on their own admission – on the newspaper archives of the Bath and Wilts Chronicle and Herald, with the book’s structure sectioning the various aspects of the city’s wartime experience into separate chapters, their second, Bath at War: The Home Front, relied almost exclusively on personal anecdotes and reminiscences to recount the same story.

    What we have done with this book is to give a linear structure to the narrative – starting in September 1939 with the declaration of war and ending not long after VJ Day and the cessation of hostilities – while putting the events happening on the home front within the larger context of the various theatres of war. Through approaching the story like this, it is hoped the reader who was not there can experience the various ups and downs, the victories and defeats, and other elements that occurred in Bath during this time in a way – although thoroughly condensed and second-hand – which gives at least some idea of what it must have been like to live through Bath at war in 1939-45.

    Nigel & David Lassman

    April 2018

    The Empire Hotel was one of the buildings requisitioned by the Admiralty when they moved down from London.

    One of the mass graves of Bath Blitz victims.

    CHAPTER 1

    Declaration (September 1939)

    As history records it, Britain declared war on Germany at 11 o’clock on Sunday the 3rd of September 1939, and so for the people of Bath, along with the rest of the country, that is when the Second World War officially began.

    The declaration and the war had not come out of the blue. Like the First World War, which had ended two decades earlier and involved men and women from the city, events had been pointing towards conflict during the preceding few years. This time around, demands since the mid-1930s by Germany and its leader, Adolf Hitler, had tested the resolve of the British government and although Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had sought appeasement throughout this period, it was not through personal weakness, as is often believed, but because he knew the country was weak and not yet militarily resourced for war. So, as during the period leading to the previous conflict, the government used these pre-war years to instigate a programme of rearmament and adequately prepare its defences.

    Unlike the First World War, these preparations now had to take into consideration the civilian population. The devastating effects of Zeppelin attacks on several English coastal towns near the end of that former war cannot be overstated and this was reinforced by more recent images from the Spanish Civil War, which showed just how much devastation and destruction could be inflicted on cities from the air.

    With this potential threat in the forefront of the authorities’ minds, Bath City Council had been tasked with the creation of the ARP (Air Raid Precautions). This organisation, initially based at 2 Broad Street, oversaw all aspects of civil defence. This included the distribution of 70,000 gas masks throughout the city and, during the summer of 1939, taking part in a ‘feigned state of emergency’ that consisted of an imaginary air raid, with numerous counties taking part, including Somerset, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire and Dorset. With all preparations thus completed, the council could state authoritatively, once war finally arrived, that ‘In the absence of an actual attack to test the effectiveness of the machinery, everything possible has been done to ensure the safety of our population in an emergency’.

    The declaration of war meant reservists across the city received their mobilisation orders. These were men who were presently serving in the Territorial Army, or else had previously been in the armed forces but had left or retired, with the stipulation they could be recalled in the event of war. For Bath’s population it must have felt like history was repeating itself. Most no doubt remembered only too vividly waving off their husbands, sons, boyfriends, fiancés, fathers, brothers, uncles, nephews, friends and work colleagues back in 1914 – many of whom were never to return – and now, a quarter of a century later, they were about to do the same again. This time though, a completely different atmosphere prevailed in the city. As one local resident would record, ‘This is a most peculiar war and as different from the 1914 affair as one could possibly imagine. There is no exuberant patriotism, no flag waving or cheering crowds, yet every man woman & child is calm and determined.’

    Whereas numerous Bath men had volunteered at the outbreak of the First World War – responding to Lord Kitchener’s famous patriotic call to arms – the government was (rightly) taking no chances on being able to elicit such patriotic fever again, and two days after Poland was invaded parliament passed the National Service (Armed Forces) Act. This meant that Bath men between the ages of 18 and 41, unless already in the forces or a reserved occupation, were eligible to be called up.

    So, once again, Bath men (and women) set off for theatres of war that would encompass the globe and during the first weeks of September 1939, trains taking them across the country to join regiments, ships or squadrons, headed out from the city’s two main railway stations. Some left from the old ‘Midland’ station (later known as Green Park) serviced by the London, Midland & Scotland (LMS) and the Somerset & Dorset (S&D) railway companies; their trains headed north or south. Others left from Bath Spa, at the bottom of Manvers Street; their trains headed east and west and were owned by the Great Western Railway (GWR).

    Along with conscription from the outset of war, there would be other differences between this conflict and the previous one. Perhaps the greatest of these, as time would show, was that the death and destruction witnessed on the battlefields by men and women from the city during the First World War – and during this one too – would also be experienced by those on the home front: the true horrors of war delivered, quite literally in numerous cases, right to people’s front doors. Although the coastal towns attacked by Germany during the First World War had experienced the terrifying ordeal of aerial bombardment, many inland ones, along with major cities including Bath, would now be recipients.

    Although the war officially began on the third day of September, Hitler’s invasion of Poland two days earlier had triggered several contingency plans to be put into action. One of these was Operation Pied Piper: the evacuation of children, and others, from cities deemed vulnerable to German aerial attack, such as London, to places of perceived safety. The plan had been conceived in May 1938 by the Home Secretary Sir John Anderson, who would also give his name to the corrugated-steel air-raid shelter. It would become the largest mass movement of people in British history, an exodus dwarfing even the biblical one, according to one newspaper. Under the scheme, the country was divided into three areas: Evacuation, Neutral and Reception. Despite the preparations undertaken by its council, Bath and the surrounding areas were not considered to be at risk and so had been placed in the latter category. Through the summer of 1939, therefore, families had been sought to become hosts to the evacuees in the event of war.

    Civil Defence leaflet explaining the evacuation.

    Operation Pied Piper produced some of the most iconic images of the conflict – those of schoolchildren, in groups or alone, standing on platforms with suitcases in their hands or by their sides. As accurate and vivid a portrayal of the evacuation as these images were, it is a misconception to think that it was only the young who were moved. Not only did the government intend to evacuate schoolchildren but also their teachers – in many cases, entire schools were transferred to safety – along with pre-school children, accompanied by their mothers or responsible adults, expectant mothers and adults who were blind or crippled, so far as their removal was feasible.

    As soon as the British government received news that Germany had crossed the Polish border, the evacuation plan became operational, and on that Friday, 1 September 1939, and over the following weekend, trains poured out of London and other cites to more rural destinations in the countryside. By the time war was officially declared two days later, more than one and a half million people had become evacuees,

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