From Tom Critchley to Mary Platt 11.9.1940 continued....

37 Lonsdale Drive, Enfield,

...All that night banging went on & the glow of the fires lit up the sky. We are fairly high up & look over London not altogether an advantage when one sees these fires. They make me feel sad & depressed – a horrible sight & we have had a goodish number now. There's no doubt the effect is exaggerated, but it's not a nice sight.
 (8.45 pm  there go the sirens for tonight's do!)
Sunday night was my worst night. I couldn't sleep & Annie slept practically all night. (we lie partly dressed on beds downstairs) she woke once and said. "That was loud,  the biggest we have had so far, shall we go into the shelter?" "Too late," said I, "he's passed over us", I'll go and see where he is." I went out to look at the search lights & when I got back she was fast asleep with her head under the clothes. As for me I lay listening to planes and bombs & guns all night & now & then went to the door to see more & brighter fires.
I've not slept so badly except for Sunday night. It's only the louder bangs woke me up, but one gets so sleepy only sleep matters. We have slept through 'all clears' & wake in a morning not knowing if the raid was still on. I'll bet Mrs Wilson has had an awful time of it. She little knew what she was in for or she wouldn't have come. London is no place for visitors these days unless they want a thrill.
I am having a week's holiday, if you had been nearer I guess we would have paid you a visit. Today we went out to Berkhamstead Common & got 8 lbs of blackberries & missed two raids on London, but got one directly we got back. While picking we saw a big plane near & then came 3 sickening thuds. Yes, you've guessed, it was Jerry & he started a fire in the district.

8.45 pm
Guns blazing away and bigger bangs of bombs... we can see the shells bursting over the East End district... poor East End! Supper ready & it will be news then bed... we go early these days 'cause it's about midnight & 2 am the heaviest attacks seem to take place.

8.55 pm
More and more guns going in to action we can see the flashes & shell bursts both at the front & the back now. May they shoot the blighters down.

Thursday
Tom (Tom and Annie Critchley's youngest son) arrived home at 10 pm last night to sleep here as he has had a very bad time for several nights... their hospital (at Milbank central London) has had a number of very near misses & they have a rotten shelter to go to... he says they hear bombs & falling masonry all night long. He was a bit upset when he got here thinking bombs were falling all round us: I reassured him & explained it was only our local battery of 4 4.5's opening up. Do they make a row? They shake the house when a salvo goes off as  they are only about half a mile away.
At about 11 last night we had a thrill... our battery sent up a salvo & an explosion was heard to follow high in the sky, then a loud shriek & a cheer. One shot down. I was outdoors like a shot but saw nothing. The grocer's boy this morning confirms it was one shot down.
Those guns, until last night had done very little shooting, as had many of London's defenses, but last night every gun fired on every possible occasion, so we had far more row than usual. We tried our shelter, but, as you could hear far more from there than in the house, we went indoors. What a funny gurgling noise incendiary bombs make?
I'm afraid this is full of air raids, but then so is life at present, we seem to have the warning out for about 11 hours out of the 24.
We now and then get a letter from Ronald (Tom and Annie's oldest son was in Palestine), but they are very irregular, although he writes every week by air mail, lots seem to go astray, when he does write it seems to come from a world that knows no war, but is filled by the daily round, the common task. Life for him at the moment seems to run very smoothly & comfortably.
From all accounts we missed a good show yesterday afternoon & weren't exactly sorry. If you haven't heard a mass air battle you cannot imagine the noise in the sky specially the shrieking of fast diving planes.
Well bye bye our love to you all, 
Tom

P S It's now confirmed one shot down near us last night, a piece of wing found in Southgate. About mid-day today came a terrific bang, all the old dames came to their doors & I had to go and tell them that during the night I heard a whistler come down which didn't explode at first. I suppose it went off then. Folks are more cheerful today. The excessive gun fire seems to have acted like a tonic.

Letter, to Mary Platt in Giffnock, Glasgow from Tom Critchley 11.9.1940

37 Lonsdale Drive, Enfield

Dear Mary,

As you see we are all fit and well and still able to write, but like many other people we yawn now and then. We have had an inordinate number of raid warnings, as many as 6 in a day, but it's not so bad as it sounds. We have reached the stage where the sirens wail means very little, 'cause oftener than not we hear and see nothing. Last week the works (Johnson Matthey) only went in shelter for 14 or 15 daytime warnings. I can't count the number of warnings here at meal times have not interrupted the feeding. Three times in one day I was either going to or coming from the works when the wailings started.
The night ones are worse. Sometimes one lies in bed listening to bangs more or less distant, sleeping & waking & the beastly drone of Jerry overhead keep up an intermittent row.
Last Saturday was a nasty do. I'd just got into the bath when the wail went up to the sky. I decided to carry on but noises started which were too near for my liking so I hopped out quick & partly dried & partly dressed, hastened down. There was terrific gun fire & the noise of crashing bombs which soon died down, so, as tea was ready, we went to have tea. Hardly had we sat down when the uproar started again, so out into the garden to see the show... & what a show. The planes were just visible & so were the fires of the East End, We saw one formation of 6 bombers come away from the attack when out of nowhere dropped a Spitfire - then there was 5 & a trail of smoke falling to earth & the white flash of the Spitfire diving clear. We saw a balloon being lowered with a parachutist on top of it & then, when it was all over a Hurricane came & did some marvelous aerobics just by us. I think the pilot was drunk with victory, he did impossible things with that plane.
Of course we are daft to stand outside and watch!

From the Hogg family memories of Salmon Lane, East London, May 1941

Daisy Hogg, who lost her mother and three sisters, but survived the air raid witnessed by Tom Critchley on 11th May 1941

Whilst the raid was at its height a parachute mine, dropped from a German plane, plummeted down towards Stepney East railway station. It struck the country end of the platforms and burst through the arch below. Broken bricks, twisted metal and general rubble fell from above, killing many of the shelterers outright. The air was thick with dust, choking, blinding, dust, which made everything appear as if it was in a yellow-grey fog. Those who could, began to move, but lots more lay still and lifeless. Rescuers were soon on the site, throwing aside heaps of broken masonry in the hopes of finding someone alive underneath. Lizzie Hogg, her sweetheart Ernie and his sister Lil, had been on the Chaseley Street side which was least affected and managed to stagger out into the street. Once the initial shock has passed however, Lizzie forced her way back in and to her horror, saw her sisters and mother partially buried in the rubble. She fought through the clouds of brick dust, but was pushed aside by one of the rescuers, who said that she could serve no purpose by being there. Just then she saw a man pick up Daisy's limp body and take her towards the growing number of fatalities, she thought she saw a movement and called out "That's my sister... Don't take her... She's still alive!". Lizzie was right. At that time, 21 people had been killed including her sisters Emily, Annie and her Mother.

As day broke, passers-by could see the parachute mine still hanging from the top of the arch. Fortunately it hadn't exploded, but if it had, the death toll would have been even higher.

Hilda and Daisy were rushed off to Bancroft Road hospital, both suffering extensive injuries. Lizzie arrived soon after and saw Daisy lying unconscious. She was badly cut around the face and her head had been shaven in readiness for emergency surgery. She was therefore almost unrecognisable and when she was led towards her, Lizzie said "That's not Daisy! That's a man!" Although she saw Daisy, there was no mention of Hilda, whose injuries must have been more severe. The wards at Bancroft Road were overwhelmed with numerous victims from eslewhere in the area, so later in the day, Daisy was transferred to Winchmore Hill in north London. But on the Monday, little Hilda, always referred to as 'The Baby', died.

Having arrived at Winchmore HIll, Daisy remained unconscious, but could call out "take those children off my legs!" every so often, presumably re-living the horrific experience which had overtaken her and her family. One day, she opened her eyes to see the bleary shape of her Dad and his brother Arthur standing beside the bed, but then she passed out again and returned to oblivion.

Daisy remained in that condition for exactly a week. On Sunday 18th May she finally came round. She had her eyes fully open and in the early process of regaining her senses, she looked up and saw her distraught father standing over her. This time he was on his own, and was wearing an ominous black suit. From this she immediately knew that someone in her family had been killed and instinctively guessed it was her Mother. With tears welling in her eyes she asked "How are the others? How's Hilda?" Her father said "she's alright, she's in another hospital."  and for a while at least, Daisy felt a little better. Her father Bill Hogg knew how close Daisy and Hilda had been, and felt for the time it was best she didn't know the complete truth, although, of course, she soon found out. Her Mother had gone, together with three of her sisters.

The happy morning of Saturday 10th May, when the pair ran carelessly laughing from Jack Spiro's shop, eating their chocolate, proved to be their last together.

Why Hilda? Why Annie?, Why Emily?, And why their Mother? The same sort of questions must have hung upon the lips of numerous East Enders during that unspeakably awful period.

Little was said of the funerals, although Daisy was subsequently told that they had all been buried at Woodgrange Cemetary.

Daisy's recovery was slow, she was 14 years old. She was moved to Chase Farm Hospital and had two weeks convalecsence with her Uncle and Aunt in Sutton Valance, Kent. She survived to grow up, marry and have a son, who became a prominent London railway historian and writer. She lived until she was 84.

Hilda Hogg, who died in the air raid of 11th May 1941 alongside her mother and two of her sisters.

From the Hogg family memories of Salmon Lane, East London, May 1941

Picture of Hilda Hogg.

Reproduced here by permission of a member of the Hogg family.BC

Like so many of their contemporaries, the Hoggs somehow managed to cope with the unbelievable terrors of the Blitz and tried to live as normal as life as possible. In the spring of 1941, little Hilda Hogg was taken to a local photographic studio to have a portrait taken and the print was collected on Saturday 10th May. Hilda was always inclined to look rather serious when photographed, but this time her expression displayed an odd element of uncertainly. This was perhaps not surprising, as life for a seven year old East End child at the height of the Second World War must have been horrific beyond belief. This day, however, she was happy, and together with her sister Daisy, she went across the road to buy some chocolate at Jack Spiro's shop. The two girls came out laughing. It was a bright spring day and they were teasing each other. At times like this the war seemed unimportant and, in some ways, unreal. The only thing that mattered was the joy of the two sisters being together and, with the aid of a chocolate bar, momentarily forgetting their nightly ordeals. That was not easy, despite the cheerful sunshine, the distinctive smell of burning hung in the air, as an ever present reminder of the previous air raid.

As the family feared being buried alive in their Anderson Shelter in their garden they went that night, Annie, Emily, Daisy, Hilda with their mum to shelter under the York Road railway arch. Sister Lizzie was there as well, but she was seeing a young man, so she was with him and his recently widowed sister on a bench opposite.

As usual, everyone tried to settle down for a night's sleep, but, of course, this would be difficult. Almost as if on cue, the sirens began to sound and the heavy droning of aero engines announced the regular murderous onslaught by Hitler's Luftwaffe.

The small hours of Sunday 11th May brought the worst raid for some time, and Tom Critchley, a chemist from Enfield, gave a chilling eye-witness account:

"We had just got into bed when at 11 wailing willie started and as it was a cloudless moonlight night, I guessed it was our turn. We didn't have to wait for long before we knew for certain. We slept on and off as the row permitted, but after some extra  big noises at about 1.30 I got up to see what was going on. There was a long row of fires from the East End to Westminster and one could see bombs bursting in amongst them and planes galore above..."

If that was scene as viewed from suburbia, the reality for those unfortunate enought to live closer to central London could only be described as a holocaust. The bombers continued to drone overhead, as anti-aircraft guns pounded aimlessly into the night sky, with little or no chance of reaching a target.

Letter from Tom Critchley to the Platt family 19.5.41

37, Lonsdale Drive,

19.5.41

My dear Mary, Harry & the little one,

We thought Hess must have landed somewhere near you; What a bit of excitement it was for you! Even now one can hardly believe the news is true – too good to be true.

He wasn't so daft as they try to make out, he knew that in landing amongst the Scots he was amonst his own sort – snorts of indignation from one member of the family!!

If Molly wants some bits of shrapnel, I can send her a few odd pieces, as after a Blitz there are lots of odd things in the works.

Now about the watch, our bloke who visits the jewellers says Clerkenwell is a mess & those watches that are being made now are much advanced in price as well as suffering from purchase tax' as the selection is very poor & limited. He said you would do far better to purchase locally (Glasgow) as you would get a better selection & the price ought to be as low if not lower than the new market prices. So I have done nothing further in the matter.

Furthermore, also anything else you like I did not forget the Ostocalcium, but have ordered 599 every week, since I came back & each delivery day they have failed to turn up. One must conclude that our suppliers cannot get them for which I am truly sorry.

I bought some fruit jars from Woolworth's the other day, they they were UGB stuff I thought they must be the best obtainable.

I think I wrote to you before our latest Blitz, the  day Hitler sent out his Hess-O-Hess, if I didn't you must excuse the following.

We had just got into bed when at 11pm wailing Willie started & as it was a cloudless moonlight night I guessed it was our turn. We didn't have long to wait before we knew for certain. We slept on and off as the row permitted but after some extra big noises about 1.30, I got up to see how the war was getting on. There was long row of fires from East London to Westminster & one could see bombs bursting in amongst them & planes galore up above. Our local guns were not so active as usual, probably because of the numbers of fighters which one could hear having a beano day (night?) When I got back into bed this was the conversation.

"Are there many planes about?

Yes, lots, but a number are our fighters.

Isn't it a bad raid?

Yes, pretty bad by the sound of things.

Any fires?

Yes, from the docks to Westminster.

Ah well perhaps they will let us have some oranges now."

Soon after she was aleep, but only slept in spells.

The fires were bad. Fortunately nothing much dropped with in half a mile of us, though Enfield had plenty of incendiaries, one of which, praise Allah, burnt out the Income Tax Office.

It's our war weapons week this week & London expects to get £100,000,000 of which Enfield aims for £300,000, the first day this latter place got £209,000 & my contribution hasn't yet been made, so we should get more than our little bit!!

Have you heard of the song Hess sang to Hitler?

"You take the high road & I'll take the low road & I'll be in Scotland before you"

I didn't attempt to put it into Scots, lest my Scottish neice should correct me.

The latest one is that Hess is spending his second imprisonment in writing. The first one was spend with Hitler on "Mein Kampf" The second one is spent in wriiting the sequel, "Mein DeKampf."

There's still another theory about Hess. Hitler told him to go to Moscow & Hess thought he said Glasgow believing they were the same place.– they are much of a muchness aren't they? Or is Glasgow not just so nice?

I hope Molly did well in her history exam, they (exams) are like bombs, inventions of the devil.

Oh, by the way, if we had wanted to go in our shelter the night of our last Blitz we would have been mighty uncomfortable. Tom has discovered it can be made into a dark room & he had spread out his home made  enlarger in there. These childer!

It looks as if Ronald is going to feel the effects of war, thought Jerry has a worse job out there than have we. If he gets to the oil, he cannot cart it into Germany.

What with the Hess affair & one thing and another, it does look as if things were the opposite of "not just as nice" whatever the expression ought to be. Certainly he (Jerry) doesn't or cannot keep up the night after night bombing on us. We aren't in as bad a mess as Jerry is,

Love to you all three from us both,

Tom

Letter to the Platt family from Tom Critchley 9.5.1941

 9.5.41

37 Lonsdale Drive

My dear Mary, Harry & Molly,

Such a long start helps to fill up!  I hope you are all right after your new lot of Hunnish attentions. You & St Helens folk will have to come & see us & enjoy peace & quietness; since we came back there has been nothing to worry about a few warnings, but only once or twice have we been wakened by gunfire. It does begin to look as if London is to be spared until we do some bomb damage (or should it be damn bommage) to Berlin again & then there will be a so-called reprisal raid. Since they seem to feel like that about it, it shows where they feel it most & that is where we want to hit them. From what Seth says, Liverpool seems to be in a sad mess, I hope Glasgow is not too bad, especially the vital ship building yards. Like you we are "enjoying" rotten cold weather & begin to wonder if it will ever get warm again, though this week we have quite a reasonable amount of sunshine with clear frosty nights. Tom thoroughly enjoyed his holiday & found the old car averaged 42 miles to the gallon of petrol. I say petrol in case you may think I meant oil – the oil consumption is somewhat high after 40,000 miles or more. He tried to get up Newlands Pass with it & came to a full stop, so reversed & amused onlookers by going up backwards. Fancy, he let Seth beat him at bowls, letting down the senior branch of the family.   I suppose Seth learned a lot from Harry & me& so will have improved. If Jerry comes to see us to-night, he can't; Tom has discovered that our shelter makes a first rate dark room & so has his home-made enlarger therein installed & is busy on his recent photographs. Oh, by the way, can't Molly sort this weather for us, not that it is broken weather, but it sure wants mending. Another by the way (I have to fill up somehow) do the Scots refer to "broken" weather as "sorted" weather or "wants sorting", or only assorted weather? Some time she must come & see us and teach us its proper and improper uses. Love to you all from us both,

Tom

(There is one more letter on the Blitz to come from this set. Then I have obtained permission from a Hogg family descendent, who is a historian and writer, to reproduce his account of how one May raid described by Tom Critchley was experienced by his family living at that time in Salmon Lane, East London. BC)

More to come!

I am a little late with the last few letters to go on this blog as our modem was no longer linking us into the net and Virgin has just replaced it with an up-to-date one. I have one a couple of letters to post from the Blitz and from the 1950s, Annie's letter about going to see Westminster Abbey, where her son was appointed to officiate at the Queen's coronation as a gold staff officer. BC