Wartime memories of Torquay's worst day

[Dave]

The 30th of May 1943 was the worst day of the war as far as Torquay was concerned. On that day a total of 45 people were killed when bombs dropped over St Marychurch and Hele as 21 German planes destroyed the church, two schools and 50 homes. Twenty one children and their three Sunday school teachers were among the dead.

This Thursday marks the 70 anniversary of that tragic day and some of the survivors, friends and family of those killed plan to meet at 3pm at the children's memorial at Torquay crematorium to pay their respects and remember the events of that day.

On this thread davesworld.proboards.com/thread/190/watcombe-rangers-1954-photo-restoration I retold the story told to me by Reg Chapple. “He also talked about the day St Marychurch church was bombed and 26 children and teachers were killed on May 30 1943, Reg would have been just thirteen years old. It was such a beautiful Sunday morning on that fateful day and Reg thought it was too good a day to be sat in the church.

He decided to go alone to Watcombe beach and on his way he bumped into his friend who was on the way to the church. Reg persuaded him to go to the beach with him and his friend agreed. If that young boy had not come across Reg on his way to the church we may well have been no 27 on the death list.


One of the people who will be there was someone who was actually buried under the rubble of the church, she was 10-year-old Jean Sangster (now Jean Carhart). This is her account of the day.


I had two brothers in the RAF and a younger brother of only 3. I was 10 at the time.
The morning of 30 May 1943, I had finished my household duties for mother and got ready for Sunday school in the afternoon. As I left the house my mother called “Are you taking your brother?” I said “No, I am walking with my friends after Sunday school," and off I went.

I arrived at Sunday school just before 3.00pm and had just sat on the end pew when the sirens sounded and someone shouted “Duck!”. I saw a flash at the stained glass window before I managed to dive into the upright at the end of the pew. However, I couldn’t get my legs in as well. The whole church collapsed in on us - apart from the tower - and in the rubble I remember holding hands with a friend of mine that was buried even deeper. There was dust and debris everywhere.

I was one of the first to be rescued because my legs were near the surface of the rubble but I had been there for an hour. I was asked if I would like to go to the WVS centre which was a hotel opposite the church, namely the “George Hotel”. I declined and walked home with the WVS lady as I just wanted to get home. From the four avenues where I lived (First, Second, Third and Main Avenue) a pair of twins, a boy and a girl, were killed in my avenue and another girl killed in Third Avenue. Altogether 21 children died that day and 3 Sunday school teachers. The brother I did not take with me to Sunday school that day became Britain's number one tennis player and also entered the Guinness Book of Records with the fastest serve in the world — Mike Sangster.



On the 30th of May the 20 Focke-Wulf flew past Babbacombe Downs after dropping their deadly load on Torquay.The German raiding squadron came under machine gun fire from gunners posted on the requisitioned hotels and five took a hit. One of the bombers came down and on hitting the spire of the Catholic church in St Marychurch detonated its bomb.

Here is another account this time from Wilfred Staple, then aged 16 now 84 years old.

"I remember seeing adults carrying young children away from the church.
"I saw the postman. He looked stunned. His son had been killed. My father and I worked in the post office so it really struck home."RAF personnel were clearing the rubble. My two sisters were covered in dust. Young children were supposed to go into the church. How many more would have died if they had?"

Later that day, Mr Staple walked up to Teignmouth Road where the German bomber had crashed.The pilot was wrapped in his parachute. The plane had crashed through a house.Next door, a woman had just given birth.

[Dave]

Last week a small group of mourners and survivors met at Torquay crematorium to pay their respects and remember the events of May 30, 1943 and the 21 Sunday School children who lost their lives. When they arrived little wooden crosses had been mysteriously erected at each of the individual graves in the old part of the Barton cemetery

Full story here


The Story


The Herald Express also received a letter from an anonymous person, its an hauntingly detailed account of the bombing, It is signed: 'A survivor' and titled 'A Day in The History of St Marychurch'.



"As the sun rose heralding yet another warm spring day, the four spires of St Marychurch stood majestically silhouetted against the clear blue sky. "A few hours later the church bells rang out calling to the morning worshippers. Members of the congregation were greeted by the fragrance of the May blossom drifting on the breeze as they passed through the lytch gate and made their way up the winding path to the doors of the church, wide open in readiness to welcome the parishioners attending the morning communion service. The tranquil scene only sightly disturbed by the rustling leaves and muted chatter of friends coming together.

"Through this idyllic atmosphere a mother, pushing her eight week old baby daughter in her pram, and holding her six-year-old son by the hand, walked past the Links Hotel on her way to visit her own mother's house in Petitor Road for Sunday lunch with her mother and sister, who had a 12-month-old baby daughter. Over lunch the conversation was convivial and anxieties were expressed about the safety of her brothers who were both serving soldiers abroad.

"After lunch her sister wheeled the pram into the back garden for her baby daughter to have a sleep in the fresh air. At 2pm most of the children of the parish made their way happily to Sunday School.
"Suddenly the peace was shattered by the shrill undulating wail of the air raid siren, followed shortly after by the sound of spluttering plane engine which came closer and closer. Explosions started reverberating around the family who, in panic, dived under the kitchen table, which doubled as an Anderson's shelter. The six year old stared mesmerised in terror as he watched through the kitchen window and witnessed a bomb land in the rear entrance of the Links Hotel before bouncing towards the house. His mother grabbed him and pulled him into the shelter just in time, as the bomb exploded and the house fell in, plunging them into total blackness.

"The plane approached the coast from Babbacombe Bay, weaving it's erratic path over the Torquay golf course. The first bombs to be dropped landed a direct hit on St Marychurch School and the adjacent properties.
"The school hall roof fell in the explosion. The polished mosaic red and cream tiles of the parapets mostly shattered, with just a few intact to indicate how it had once been. The cork tiles which had lain on the thick concrete floor of the main Hall, and had once comprised the ceiling of the school kitchen had disintegrated, mostly collapsing on to the neat lines of iron ovens.

"Entering the kitchen by the three steps leading downstairs at the rear of the building revealed sinks, where the washing up took place, were strangely untouched, but the mangled broken pipes were protruding from the walls, reaching out as if in abstract supplication to such an unexpected and ferocious onslaught.

"The huge school bell lay at a precarious angle in the bell housing aperture high in the wall above what remained of the wall surrounding the main entrance: it's immense weight no contest against the full force of the bomb. The relief that it was the weekend and no children were in attendance was short-lived. The metal bicycle stand by the west wall was the only part remaining unscathed.

"The plane continued to discharge it's lethal load on the petrified residents below. Two houses in Hartop Road were next to be hit, and then a bungalow and house in Petitor Road. Also hit were two cottages next to the corner shop in Petitor Road and a row of cottages at the rear of Petitor Road, although Kellows the tailor's shop on the opposite corner and the Crown and Sceptre Public House were spared, as was the stable housing Tiny, the friendly horse who pulled Mr Clark's rag and bone cart, situated behind the garage and cottages in Petitor Road.

"The garage opposite the house where Townsend's coaches were based escaped the bomb.

"In the Anderson shelter the family were huddled together in the pitch dark. There had been no time to retrieve the baby girl from the back garden and her mother feared the worst. After what seemed an eternity of unnatural quiet they plucked up the courage to try to move some of the debris trapping them.

"The family heard hands scrabbling at the rubble. A piece of masonry dislodged, allowing a shaft of daylight to penetrate the darkness. The dust was tremendous and moving heavy blocks of masonry proved to be a mammoth task, but gradually and carefully they pushed at the rubble until, coughing and spluttering from the inhalation of dust, they clambered out and emerged into the bright sunlight. As their eyes adjusted to the light an ashen face could be discerned through the dust. A strange yet familiar voice said "Are you alright?" The mother recognised their rescurer as Frank Perrot, a driver for Townsend's Coaches based in Petitor Garage opposite the house. The mother replied "We are alright, are you?" "I'm alright" said Frank, his voice expressionless, "but my twins were at Sunday School and the Church has been bombed. They are both dead."

The scene which met the family was surreal. Houses which only a short time ago were homes with families had been reduced to piles of rubble amongst brick skeletons. People, their faces covered in white powdery dust and ash, their eyes appearing black, sunken and expressionless in shock. Some people were staggering aimlessley around, not knowing what to do or where to go, others rushing around with a sense of futile urgency desperately wanting to help to rescue those who had been trapped and injured.

"The sister rushed to the back garden. Miraculously, her baby daughter was untouched and still fast asleep in her pram, although a huge piece of masonry lay where it had missed the baby and landed only 18 inches away from the pram.

"The mother, realising her parents no longer had a home, gathered her baby daughter and young son together, suggesting they live with her, and invited them to walk with her to see if her home was still standing.
"A horrific sight met their eyes as they rounded the corner of Petitor Road. After dropping bombs on the two cottages next to the corner shop the plane had curled round and in one final act of destruction, the pilot had discharged the last of his lethal load directly over the church itself.

"A huge pile of stones, bricks and broken glass was in the place where the nave had been. A remnant of the east wall was still standing with it's stained glass window, the beautiful stained glass now blasted into millions of chards amongst the debris. The church clock tower remained standing but the hands on the clock, petrified at the time of the destruction, recorded the deadly time at 2.41pm. They would remain so for the next ten years.
"Men and women, hair matted and rivulets of tears running down their dust-covered faces, pulling desperately at the huge pile of collapsed masonry in an effort to rescue all the little children who were in the middle of their worship at Sunday School when the terror struck.

"Shouts of hopeful expectation turning to cries and hopeless despair as yet another small lifeless body was pulled from the rubble. The majority of their efforts were to no avail. The loss of so much young life was great and tragic, their little bodies crushed without warning under the vast tons of falling masonry.
"Despair changed to anger when the would-be rescuers heard the plane and pilot responsible for the carnage had crashed at the bottom of the hill in Teignmouth Road. A group of furious men set off, unsuccessfully, as it turned out, to find the pilot.

"As the sun went down on that dreadful day, as if in denial at the horrors inflicted upon it, the four spires of the church of St Marychurch stood defiantly silhouetted against the night sky. The events of this fateful day will never be forgotten, they are forever etched in the memories of those still living, memories which will be passed down through their descendants.

"A wooden plaque on the wall of a special chapel in St Marychurch ensuring the children taken on that fateful day will always be remembered. The date, exactly 70 years ago today, 30th May, 1943."

A Survivor.