Document #1
Due to the destruction of their homes, many British citizens lived in the subway system underground during the Blitz of Britain. The subway provided them with the most shelter. In the picture on the bottom, a young woman plays a gramophone (think like a record player) while sitting in an air raid shelter.
Document #2
Even though Britain was being bombed on a daily basis, Brits still went to work each day. As they walked through the streets they saw the destruction of the homes and businesses in their respective towns. Yet, they never stopped going to work during this time period.
Document #3
Both of these images show the effects of the Blitz on the families. In the top image, people return to their demolished homes for their cherished possessions that were not lost and destroyed. In the bottom image, three children (possibly now orphans) sit in front of their damaged home.
Document #4
The Blitz decimated the city. Every place was a target for the German bombing. In the image on the bottom, that building was once the House of Commons which is the lowest branch in the British Parliament (legislative government)
Document #5
In the top image, that is St. Peter’s Basilica in London which stayed standing throughout the entirety of the Blitz, standing tall with the smoke from the other buildings being bombed surrounding it. The bottom image was Winston Churchill who was the British Prime Minister during World War II.
These cruel, wanton, indiscriminate bombings of London are, of course, a part of Hitler’s invasion plans. He hopes, by killing large numbers of civilians, and women and children, that he will terrorize and cow the people of this mighty imperial city . . . Little does he know the spirit of the British nation, or the tough fiber of the Londoners.
-‐ Winston Churchill
A Childhood in London: John Dawkins I was four years old at the outbreak of World War 2. I have no story to tell, just a collection of disjointed memories. I am now 68 years young, but these few strangely treasured memories are impossible to forget; just like my National service number. My earliest recollection is being in Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital in war torn London at the height of the German ‘Blitzkrieg’, or the ‘Blitz’ as we came to know it. London was literally on fire and the air raid sirens would sound frequently with each wave of enemy bombers dropping their deadly load upon the inhabitants. As children of such a tender age we were largely ignorant of any danger and knew little fear. We were frequently wheeled down to the basement when the bombs started dropping closer. I recall the day when my mother came to take me home. There was no hospital transport available, but they lent us a red blanket for my mother to carry me in. In the street fires were burning and there was rubble everywhere. We hadn’t gone far when yet another siren sounded, announcing yet more bombs on the way. Somebody shouted at my mother to get into the shelter, which I now believe was an underground station. I have no idea how we got home. I probably slept through the noise! Underground stations were used to accommodate ‘bombed out’ people who had lost their homes. I saw long lines of bunks along the station where they lived and slept. The windows of the trains and buses were covered in sticky tape in case they shattered. There were posters urging the population to ‘Dig for victory’. Parks and lawns were ploughed up to plant potato and other crops. Food was very short. Other posters warned about giving out any information, as spies or enemy agents could be listening at any time, any place. ‘Careless talk costs lives’ one poster read. ‘Walls have ears’ and I remember another poster with picture of a ‘Butterfly bomb’ which looked like a toy and came down by parachute. Any child picking it up would have an arm blown off! It was like a land mine apparently. We lived at Potters Bar at the time, which is now a part of north London. My father was not at home very much. He was an electronic expert and not in the military. He was called away on a reserved occupation, but my mother told me later that he was unable to talk about it. The house was nearly always filled with strangers coming and going, especially if near neighbors were ‘bombed out’. My father had built an Anderson shelter in our garden, but if there was a sudden air raid there was not always time to get to it. On one such occasion there was a crowd of us indoors. I was thrilled because my Uncle Lester was on leave from the R.A.F and Uncle George who fought Rommel as a ‘Desert Rat’ and also on leave. My cousin Kenny was living with us and being two or three years older than me was a bit of a wag. I can remember the laughter and good spirits. My Aunty Molly was cooking a meal for everybody and was just about to dish up when the siren went — another air raid! “That bloody Hitler” she exclaimed and was promptly rebuked by my Uncle for swearing in front of the children. For years afterwards I thought that ‘Hitler’ was the swear word! At this moment Kenny, in mock terror grabbed my Aunt Peggy’s sewing machine cover and put it over his head and immediately got his ears stuck. Our laughter increased at his antics but quickly subsided when the bombs started to drop. Three houses two streets away were demolished we discovered next morning. All the families were killed.