Western Daily Press (Saturday)
Horror and hope among city’s rubble
had been overwhelmed, and soon those who could be moved were being sent to other hospitals around the region to free up beds. Contrary to the popular myth of the Blitz, not everyone behaved well. The Home Guard was called on to provide guards for banks and – because this was Bath – shops selling high-value goods, to prevent looting.
According to several contemporary accounts, hardly anyone believed that Bath had seen the last of the Germans and many residents, probably thousands, decided to leave the city.
Known as ‘trekkers,’ they left to stay with friends or relatives in nearby towns and villages, but most left on foot to sleep out in barns and farm outbuildings or just in the open countryside. It was a phenomenon that Bristol had seen the previous winter, where trekkers were derisively referred to as the ‘yellow convoy.’
While it was understandable that mothers would want to take their children somewhere safer, the morality of the time looked on men who fled with contempt. Able-bodied males were supposed to be in the ARP or the Home Guard, and those who were not could at least take part in firewatching duties, putting out the small firebombs which in the long run did much more damage than high explosive bombs. Every man was supposed to do his bit.
It was not simply a matter of looking on men who left as cowards; those who stayed at their posts were angry at the idea of having to risk their lives putting out a fire in a trekker’s house if he wasn’t going to be around to return the favour.
While none of this should deny for a moment the fact that
There is no other way for me than to ask you all for forgiveness for any pain that I might have caused or any damage that I might have inflicted when I came to your city in 1942. For our common future, we have to do everything possible to ensure that such a horrible war never happens again WILLI SCHLUDECKER
the majority of people did their duty and displayed great courage, a significant number simply fled, and this was one reason why the third attack, which did indeed come the following night, was the most damaging.
Radar operators plotted more than 80 German aircraft assembling over northern France just after midnight, and while the RAF’s night fighters managed to damage a couple of the raiders over the south coast, the rest of the bombers reached Bath on another clear, moonlit night.
This time, the sirens, sounding about 10 minutes before the first raiders’ arrival at around 1.30am on Monday, April 27, were heeded by the locals. However, many had decided to sleep in their air raid shelters anyway.
The Germans dropped around 100 tons of high explosive bombs and several thousand firebombs.
There were many more incendiaries than the previous night, and the damage and casualties were high.
The emergency services were hampered by the planes coming down low to machine-gun the street and by the fact that some of their own members had simply deserted their posts to join the trekkers.
Fire crews from Bristol and other surrounding towns were soon on the scene, but it would take several days to damp down all the fires and rescue those who were trapped.
As always, there were strange and poignant stories. A house was hit by a high-explosive bomb and collapsed to rubble, killing all but one of the 15 occupants. The sole survivor was a schoolgirl who had been taking shelter in a kitchen cupboard. For three days and nights, she tapped on the inside of the cupboard with a spoon until, at last, she was heard and a rescue
squad arrived and finally got her out. She was the only survivor in her family.
Mary Middlemass, a popular local doctor and amateur golfer, had gone out to help during the first raid and was widely praised for her coolness, cheerfulness and courage helping the injured in the Larkhall area. She then returned home for a short rest, just as the second raid started. A bomb struck the house, killing her, her two sisters and their two housemaids. Her body was later recovered. She was wearing her steel helmet and fur coat. She had died just as she was going out to help again.
A man in a rescue squad noticed a black cat going into a gap in a heap of rubble and reached in to get it out in case it got itself trapped. As his hand groped around in the hole, it was grasped by the hand of a small child, who was recovered unhurt.
After that last night, the bombers never returned to Bath in force. Instead, the Luftwaffe switched its attention to other places, though by now the benefits to Germany of bombing British cities were becoming questionable.
Britain’s air defences were becoming ever more effective, and Germany’s once formidable air
force was being degraded by the fighting in Russia.
In all, 417 people were killed, with many more injured. Over half the dead – 247 bodies – were buried at Haycombe Cemetery at a mass funeral on May 1, 1942.
Over 1,000 buildings were seriously damaged or destroyed, including many of architectural or historic interest, including houses in the Circus and Royal Crescent, as well as the Assembly Rooms. The east window of Bath Abbey was shattered. Some buildings were restored or rebuilt, but others were not, leading to later controversies about inappropriate and ugly modern buildings being erected in their place.
In May 2008, one of the German pilots who had taken part in the raids visited Bath for a memorial service, and to apologise
Through an interpreter, Willi Schludecker said: “There is no other way for me than to ask you all for forgiveness for any pain that I might have caused or any damage that I might have inflicted when I came to your city in 1942.
“For our common future, we have to do everything possible to ensure that such a horrible war never happens again between our countries and in Europe. War is madness.”
The visit was organised by Chris Kilminster, who lost a family member when a bomb made a direct hit on an air raid shelter at Roseberry Road.
Mr Kilminster, in more recent years, was instrumental in getting a memorial to the 28 people killed in the shelter erected in the St Mary’s Walk Remembrance Garden at Roseberry Place.
He later told the Bath Chronicle: “I remember watching Willi get upset looking at the graves in Haycombe Cemetery of those killed in the Bath bombings. He just hung his head and said ‘Am I responsible for this?’ I said ‘Yes, partly.’
“Willi replied, ‘God forgive me for what I’ve done.’”