BATTLE OF BRITAIN: Hammer Blows

As the second week of October ran out, fogs set in when gales weren’t blowing. Still no German invasion of Britain was attempted, and observers concluded fi nally that the Battle of Britain had settled down for the winter into an air and sea war without fancy trimmings. Axis activity in the Balkans and Africa reinforced this view. So did a change in German bombing technique over London. But just to make sure no desperate, seasick hordes would come struggling across the Channel, the R. A. F. and the Royal Navy gave Germany’s “invasion bases” along the French coast a few more careful shellackings, and R. A. F. pressed even harder its “master plan” to hamstring Germany’s western war industries and communications.

The change in the Luftwaffe’s tactics was as angry as it was revealing. Big bombers and dive bombers stopped flying over Britain almost entirely. In their place went fast light bombers and fighting planes fitted up with racks for a few medium bombs. These droned over high, in small but incessant waves. They made air-raid alarms last longer than ever, interrupting civilian life and preying upon morale more persistently than ever. Bombs were dropped more indiscriminately than ever, yet sometimes with more wickedly calculated aim. For every now & then a lone pilot would cut his motor, glide daringly down and plant his load in a thoroughfare crowded with pedestrians going to work, on a cathedral, a university, a hospital, a railroad station. The Germans called these the “triphammer” blows of “total air war.” The British admitted it was the most thoroughgoing treatment they had yet received. Their bag of enemy planes shot down dwindled to discouraging new lows, because the fighter-bombers, once unloaded, were far faster meat than the big-bomber fleets of September. Yet the new damage, while bitter, was actually lighter in sum than September’s and in the face of “total” air war, the Government got under way a new program of clearance and repair work on the wreckage caused in 37 dreadful days.

Added last week to the list of bomb-scarred landmarks were the London Times building (publication was not interrupted), British Ministry of Information, Trafalgar Square (Nelson’s statue not damaged), St. Paul’s Cathedral (high altar smashed by falling masonry, but the lead rafters held up the roof), Memorial Hall of the University of London (10,000 books destroyed, including German and Jewish collections), Dudley House (depot for U. S. gifts, where 1,000 lb. of Red Cross wool was buried under rubble), Waterloo Station, Battersea Park (near a main powerhouse). Wellington College in Berkshire was hit, its headmaster killed. The Archbishop of Canterbury revealed that Lambeth Palace, his London residence, had been demolished several days prior, same day Westminster Abbey and the House of Lords were hit. Day after this announcement, Nazi bombs landed so close to Canterbury Cathedral they shattered all its substitute stained glass. Shopping in Canterbury’s streets, Lydia Cecily Hill, 27, cabaret friend of the opulent Sultan of Johore, 67, was slain. The Sultan, who is acquainted also with the Franklin D. Roosevelts and Mae West, expressed deep sorrow and consoled Mother Hill. She well knew that the only reason he isn’t her son-in-law was prudish pressure by the sahibs of Singapore, where the Sultan met the Hills, and by the British Government (TIME, Aug. 8, 1938).

Other big-name casualties reported in the week were Princess Catherine Galitzine of Russia and Cinemactress Madeleine Carroll’s sister Marguerite (“Gigetti”), both killed by bomb explosions.

London had its 200th raid alarm. Liverpool had its 145th since Aug. 1. Serious spot damage fell upon Liverpool docks, factories, stores, office buildings. People flocked into the Mersey tunnel, risking pneumonia. The industrial Midlands came in for 24 hours of “hammer blows,” but a correspondent who had just toured from Newcastle and York through the Midlands reported their production capacity virtually untouched. To raise morale and production, honor badges were issued to aircraft workers who stayed on the job throughout raids.

In sprawling London, where a newly arrived visitor might not see much trouble at first glance, there was work to be done and the Government set about doing it. A Pioneer Corps of 5,000 skilled wreckers, too old to be soldiers, was set to work dismantling ruined structures, salvaging usable materials, repairing where repair was possible. Another army, drafted from the unemployed, was deployed to pick and sweep up rubble and debris, fill holes in streets. When the sun shone, London’s atmosphere was fuzzy with plaster dust from pulverized buildings. But the authorities thought the time had come at least to pick up the pieces.

When a heavy bomb crunched into a shelter containing 160 people, demand arose for deeper, stronger refuges to be built by the Government. Herbert Morrison, new Minister of Home Security, vetoed this, on grounds of expense and lack of time for construction. Instead he announced that greater use would be made of London’s deep subways, where scores of thousands already slept nightly on the station platforms and even on the tracks. He promised tiers of bunks, to pack in more people. Shortage of public shelter space made it necessary to deny admittance to shelters before 4:30 p.m. But still London’s 8,000,000 souls remained unflustered, uncomplaining.