Written March 2006 by Winifred Cappleman, aged 97 for her son Peter.
Courtesy of the Scarborough Commanet Archive, see https://www.sahs.org.uk/Scarborough-Community-Archive.html
World War Two commenced on the 3rd September 1939 and for some months nothing much happened apart form the deployment of troops etc, the issuing of ration books and identification cards. Then the bombing started and we were definitely at war. Naturally, living conditions got worse, also the bombing and the shortages so by the Autumn of 1940, after many letters from Grandma Cappleman (Annie) in Scarborough for me to take you three children (Brian, Peter and John) up to Scarborough where it would be so much safer than London. I decided to do that, I think it was soon after your birthday. With us came Louis (a Belgian refugee) who had been billeted on me in London, as he had nowhere to go. Dad had been called up for active service a month before the War was declared, as he was still on the Reserve after his army spell in India and was stationed at Aldershot.
We travelled up to Scarborough by train, a dreadful journey, packed with troops and all their kit bags and luggage and eventually arrived during the evening, tired and hungry and hoping for a nights sleep without any bombing. It was like heaven, a good meal and early to bed as we were exhausted. I can‟t remember the exact date when we got there but if it comes to mind, I will let you know. The next day was cold but sunny, I think it was a Tuesday and we went out for a walk all round and to Potters Lane (little did we know the bomb (and land mine) was going to drop there a few hours later). I still have the photograph of me sitting on a seat at the bottom of Potter Lane that morning, which Louis took. If it can be found, I will send it on. We spent a nice day and had tea, though you did not get any chips in bed that night, as the shop was not open. Granddad (George) did not open the shop on a Sunday and Mondays, he used to clean all the yard and equipment and go down to the Pier on Tuesday mornings to get fresh supplies of fish. We had taken you boys up to Scarborough on holiday several times before the War and as you remember, had a saucer of chips in bed with that mouth watering salt and vinegar but I think it is the taste of the dripping in which they were cooked which made them so yummy. Everyone cooked in dripping in those days. Oil only came in later in the War (not nearly so nice).
I had got the three of you safely tucked up in bed by 7.30pm, all the rest of the family had gone out, Ena with her friend, Arthur with his friend, Granddad to his club and Grandma to clean the little church she belonged to in Sepulchre Street. Louis and I were sitting at the side of the kitchen range, a big old-fashioned range with a huge fire and extra large oven at the side, as previous to Dad‟s parents taking it to open as a fish shop, it had been a bakers shop and they baked all the bread and cakes in this
big oven. I was sitting in the low chair by the side of the fireplace with the writing pad on my knee, penning a few lines to Dad in Aldershot to let him know that we arrived safely and had written about two thirds of the page, when I suddenly heard a familiar sound of a bomb whistling down. Then I thought, it can‟t be a bomb as there has been no siren and no warning, the next thing, a terrible explosion. The lights all went out and everything was crashing down around. I was choked and smothered with soot and plaster. Louis was bleeding badly with glass from the windows through his face but I had to tell him to stay put as I had to get upstairs to see to you three children. Barrie (your cousin) was screaming his head off in the small centre bedroom upstairs, which used to be Alice‟s (Dad‟s sister) until she got married and lived in outer London (can‟t remember the name of the place). Good job it was dark and I couldn‟t see what the place was like, as there were bricks and tiles and rubble everywhere but I found the staircase. Fortunately, I could not see that the wall, which ran from the tip of the house to the ground, was split in half, overlapping the bottom by about 6 inches and could have collapse at any time.
I got to the bedroom where you Pete were in a double bed just inside the door, the door having been blown off its hinges and was on top of you. John was in the cot at the foot of the bed also with the door on top of him and Brian was on his own in another double bed in the far corner, with the roof and all the walls missing, the bed just resting on the corner of the floorboards and a sheer drop all round him. I only had the moonlight to see and do anything but apart from a few scratches from the broken glass on the beds, you were all safe and sound, though very frightened. I managed to get you to hang on to me while I found a small square of landing at the top of the staircase, where you stood like brave little soldiers holding on to each other while I went further along the passage to find Barrie, who was still screaming and very frightened. I got him out and he stood with you three boys on the little bit of landing. At that moment the rest of the family arrived back and had made their way in the space where the shop door used to be. They had a torchlight with them fortunately, so helped get us all down the staircase and into the shop, which was not totally wrecked and I found a wooden seat in there for you children to sit on while I looked for you day clothes and coats. Good job I was tidy and knew where I had put them though they needed a good shake out from the rubble etc. However, they were warmer than your pyjamas in October.
By this time, we had bought Louis out of the kitchen area. The ambulance men were picking their way down over all the rubble and glass, covering almost the whole of Castlegate, as all the houses as far up as Longwestgate were in ruins. They couldn‟t get the ambulances down to Potter Lane, which had been totally destroyed, with not only the original bomb, which had dropped, but two minutes after that, a land mine on a parachute landed in almost the same place as the bomb and the explosion completely destroyed what was left and killed so many people. It was a complete shambles. The ambulance men took Louis to hospital on the sea front – they called it the Bathing Infirmary in those days - after I explained to them that apart from a few words, he didn‟t speak English, only French, as it made it difficult for them and the hospital.
We were told by the police to make our way, (picking through the glass and rubble the whole length of Castlegate and along Longwestgate and further on) to the church in Albermarle Street. I was so choked up with soot and plaster (and covered from head to foot with it) that we had to stop at a house on Longwestgate of a lady who Grandma knew and ask for a drink of water as I could hardly breath. We eventually arrived at Albermarle Church and were led down to a big dark dismal hall under the Church, where mattresses were laid out everywhere and families squatting on them clutching a few belongings and a blanket for warmth. We found a couple of mattresses and got as comfortable as it was possible and the wardens and volunteers brought us a hot drink and a sandwich, which was very acceptable and helped us to recover out thoughts etc after such a terrible
shock. We spent the night there with no more raids and next day Grandma got in touch with a Mrs Carvill, who with her husband, ran a boarding house on the North Marine Road, a tall four storey building, right next to the Fire Station, which I am sure you will remember. As the holiday season was well over and they had no boarders but plenty of empty bedrooms, she agreed to take us all in, as the Government were paying so much for each person housed. We stayed there for some weeks. Meanwhile, I think you went to school and as there was an empty four-storey house nearby called York House in Queens Terrace, the Council agreed to let the family take it over. Strangely enough, it actually belonged to a German but it had been unoccupied for two years, so was very dirty on the white paint (especially all the fancy banisters rails, which were unending in a four storey house) and it was me who had the job of cleaning it all, from top to bottom. Meanwhile, I had sent in a claim for compensation for Grandma for the loss of her furniture and effects, which took me ages. Eventually, she got £400 with which she bought all the necessary kitchen things and had salvaged quite a bit of furniture etc from Castlegate, even though some of it was badly pitted, with slivers of glass etc but was usable after a bit of treatment. I found a fresh place for myself, Louis and the children, and we finished up at no. 123, Seamer Road.
The rest you know and five months after the bombing in Castlegate, York House received a direct hit on the 18th March 1941, strangely enough, 65 years to the day next Saturday. As you know, Granddad, Arthur, a soldier, and his wife and baby girl were also all killed while they sat round the fire, the bomb dropping between them as they sat in a circle round the fire. We knew another soldier was standing in the hall taking shelter until the raid was over but we never knew any details about him except that the blast burst his eardrums and he lost his hearing. Dad‟s brother Arthur (19) was not sitting in the circle with the others round the fire but was sitting on the other side of the room, - he had not gone out that evening because wanted to hear a programme on the radio by Robinson Cleaver playing an Organ Recital.
Arthur was very keen on the organ and was having lessons and Robinson Cleaver was one of his favourite musicians. That was how it was that they found more parts of his body than the others but even so, it was three days later, after all that digging that they were found, just pieces of them and they were just put in sacks for burial. Dad had to go to the mortuary to identify Arthur as far as possible, as they had made a ball of rags and fitted pieces of his face and head around it – it must have been a terrible experience for Dad. As it was three days before the diggers found the body remains, it is proof that Granddad did not die in hospital from his injuries. By the way, Barrie was at the cinema with Grandma when the bombing took place and everyone was kept in there until early next morning.
The rest of the war story you all know from experience. We made a further trip to Scarborough in 1944 – to Mast Yard – but only for a few months, then decided to take our chances back in our own home at Firs Lane – it was like heaven after the flea-bitten place in Mast Yard, especially as you Pete, contracted impetigo. Thankfully, we all came through it safely but don‟t think we shall ever forget it.
