Wednesday
Thick fog. At Birchwood corner came
across Polley, the Dedham coachbuilder, who said he had seen a big fire during
the night, in the south, and thought it was either at Colchester or
beyond. NFS lorries standing about and policemen.
Strange police on duty and could not get through. They refused to give any idea of the damage
and pushed me roughly up Priory St. Saw
the wooden stone-shed next to Markham’s, pawn-brokers, a heap of smouldering
ruins, surrounded by a crowd of small boys and American negroes. Down Childwell Alley and onto the
foot-bridge, from which you could see a column of smoke rising beyond the
station, drifting across the façade of Hollington’s factory, a roofless ruin. Both of Alderman Blomfield’s shops have gone, Geary’s, Cheshire’s, a boot
shop, a tobacconist’s, a fruit shop on St Botolph’s Corner, a barber’s on
Stanwell Street corner, two shops next the ‘Empire’ in Mersea Rd, and four or
five more shops on the W. side of St Botolph’s Street, including Hancock’s the
old sweet-shop, a 17th century place.
Went next to St. Giles’ and found the place quite undamaged, not even a
window cracked. Somebody had removed all
the altar ornaments to the west end of the church. Saw Duncan Clark outside, and he asked me if
there was any damage in the church.
Looked at the Abbey Gate, which is untouched, and then worked my way
round to Osborne Street, over dozens of hose-pipes, which straggled in every
direction.
Went down as far
as the Electricity Station. Saw Alderman
Harper going towards the ruins, and Orchard, the Deputy Engineer, with ARP
officers, on the other side of the rope barrier. More fire-pumps and lorries, and more
American police.
Went up to the High Street bought
myself a new neck tie at Johnson’s, and at last got to the office an hour and a
half late.
This evening went down there
again, and walked along Vineyard St.
From there the ruins of Hollington’s look huge and majestic, more like
the Baths of Caracalla than a mid-Victorian clothing factory. There was still smoke drifting up, and several
hoses were sending plumes of shining water high over the blackened walls, while
the sun sank into a bank of golden mist which made a background to the empty
windows.
This is the biggest fire that
Colchester has ever known, and the whole thing seems to have been caused by two
or three canisters of incendiaries. This
is the German’s latest scheme, and it seems incredible that it has not been
thought of before. The greatest damage
ever done in London was in the great fire-raid at the end of 1940, when no
explosive bombs were used. Meanwhile the RAF concentrates on getting
larger and larger ‘planes to carry even heavier explosive bombs with which to
destroy German houses, churches, or museums.
Tonight went to Boxted, collected
6 eggs, and then went to see the Rushburys at Higham. The beacon light was flashing brilliantly,
and I could see it as far away as Boxted.
Spent a pleasant evening at
Rushburys. They were both very friendly
and charming. Next week they go to
York. He showed me a piece of shrapnel
and several of the black paper strips which the Germans drop to confuse
radio-location. These he found in the
garden.
Felt very nervous when I left at
10.30, and rather ill. Dark, and
bitterly cold, glittering stars, and the crimson flash of the beacon on my
left. Never seen it so bright before. As I crossed the Brett, at the foot of Higham
village, the sirens wailed, at first faintly at Colchester, then louder at
Hadleigh, ending with the distant blare of Brantham factory. I felt I could not under any circumstances go
to the cottage, and decided to go up to the Pentons at Lark Hall, late as it
was, (Higham Church clock had just struck eleven.) There was not a ‘plane nor a gun to be heard,
and I sped along with no lights, hoping not to meet a policeman. Great relief to find Jack Penton still
up. Felt very foolish, made excuses
about the noise of the beacon motor. I
think he saw the situation at once, and with great kindness gave me blankets to
sleep on a very comfortable sofa. Mrs. Penton was already in bed.
At about 11.15 came the
“all-clear”, and I curled up under the warm blankets. Got neuralgia on the left side of my face.
4 comments:
I watched Hollington's burning from the top window of ourhouse, 43 South Street.
Thank you for commenting on this post and for your memories of seeing Hollington's burning, it must have been a shocking sight and something that has stayed with you.
Best wishes, CP
According to our Bare family history, our fishmongers and associated smokery and yards on the corner of Magdalen Street and Portland Road (where H&E Edwards Potato Merchants are now) were destroyed by this incendiary raid. My father (then aged about 17) and his family had already moved to Stanway and we had an employee living in the premises. Apparently, that was the trigger for the employee to leave and become the publican of a pub nearby.
Thanks for adding your own family history to this post - I very much appreciate having this additional insight to these wartime events.
Best wishes,
CP
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