WWII: Life goes on as war is declared

Anton Rippon reviews 1939, the year the world went to war for the second time in three decades.

IT was inevitable that in Derby, just like the rest of Britain, much of the last year of the 1930s was overshadowed by the prospect – and then the realisation – of the second great war in a generation.

Air-raid warning sirens, the calling up of young men of the town, to be separated from their families perhaps for years to come, even the first tragic deaths through something as simple as new blackout regulations – they would all become a familiar part of life in Derby in 1939.

But even during this time of great crisis, the minutiae of everyday life continued, too. There were celebrations, of course, like those in January to mark the 80th birthday of Alderman George Wood.

Regarded by many as the “father” of the town council, Mr Wood had been a well-respected councillor for Normanton since 1905.

The same month saw the opening of the new Roe Farm School in Chaddesden. And, in May, a celebratory luncheon was held in Derby to mark the jubilee of Derbyshire County Council.

Later in the year, two new churches – the Baptist Church on Broadway and St Edmund’s at Allenton – welcomed their first congregations, in September and December respectively.

And throughout the year, Derby played host to a number of well known entertainers. Hughie Green – not yet the household name he would become with Opportunity Knocks – starred in his own show at the Grand Theatre in Babington Lane.

On a sadder note, 1939 saw the deaths of two men with widely differing backgrounds, both of whom were hugely respected. Thomas Stevens, who died on February 20, was an octogenarian who held the distinction of having worked longer for the same employer than any other man in Derbyshire.

During his 71 years with the Derby firm of F Longdon & Co, Mr Stevens had never been late for work and had rarely taken a day off through illness.

On July 17, Derby also mourned the death of Dr Henry Howe Bemrose. A former mayor and member of the town council for 35 years, Alderman Bemrose had been Derbyshire’s Boy Scouts Commissioner since 1923 and chairman of the Education Committee for 15 years. In 1930, Bemrose School, on Uttoxeter Road, had been named in his honour.

As the situation in Europe grew ever more serious, local events took on a military flavour. March 12 marked the beginning of National Service Week when a parade of 500 members of various military units, and a service at Derby Cathedral were held – all part of encouraging the local population to volunteer.

In June, Sir Kingsley Wood, the Air Minister, officially opened the corporation airport at Burnaston. Thousands of Derbyshire folk attending were entertained by a display from the RAF and Fleet Air Arm.

By August, almost 9,000 air-raid shelters had been delivered to private houses, and public shelters prepared across the county.

In Derby, trenches, each capable of holding more than 700 people, were dug in Derwent, Rykneld and Osmaston recreation grounds. Others were established under railway arches in Ford Street and Lodge Lane and in the crypt of Derby Cathedral.

Even Derby artist Ernest Townsend turned his skills to camouflaging power station cooling towers and factory roofs. Across the town, bus windows were blacked and internal lights changed to dim amber. The effectiveness of the blackout was tested as part of a huge ARP exercise over southern Britain.

In another huge exercise, in which the county played the role of “Westland”, the skies over Derby were heavy with Hampden, Wellington and Blenheim bombers.

There was horror, relief, and later embarrassment, when a Blenheim crashed on fields between Sinfin and Chellaston. The crewmen were unhurt but had to admit they had run out of fuel.

As the situation in Europe reached crisis point, Derbyshire folk made the most of August Bank Holiday weekend. Thousands of holidaymakers left the town by bus and train and headed for the coast, carrying buckets, spades and, of course, gasmasks.

In Derby, there was a race meeting at Nottingham Road. Among the jockeys taking part was the legendary Gordon Richards. No one knew it then, but it would be the last time horse racing would be held in Derby, ending a tradition that went back more than 200 years.

Just a few days later, the Evening Telegraph ran the headline everyone had dreaded: “Poland Attacked.” The general mobilisation order was given and hundreds of reservists and territorials reported for duty.

At Friargate Station there had been a brief panic when ticking had been heard coming from a parcel. With war imminent, and recent IRA bombings, this was no time to take a chance. The suspicious package was placed in a bucket of water and firemen called.

It was relief all round when the “bomb” was revealed to be no more than a small ornamental clock belonging to a passenger on her way to Staffordshire.

On September 3, Derbeians greeted with typical stoicism the news that war had been declared. Then, a spectacular thunderstorm over the town brought five barrage balloons crashing down in flames on to power cables, causing a massive power cut. At 3.30am the air-raid sirens sounded for the first time. It was a false alarm, but an indicator of things to come.

Communities around Derbyshire formed work parties and 6,000 volunteers registered with the Red Cross. Women began to take over the jobs of men called into the Armed Forces.

Derby’s retiring mayor, Alderman D S Butler, declined the usual celebratory meal in view of the war and 16 members of the town council, who had been due to retire, remained in office without re-election under the Local Elections and Register of Electors Act of 1939.

Dangerous driving conditions caused by the blackout meant an increase in the number of deaths and injuries from road accidents.

In September alone, 20 people lost their lives on Derby’s roads, against only six in 1938.

The fear of separation for thousands of young men from their families and sweethearts – who knew for how long? – resulted in an instant upsurge in the number of marriages between young people.

Between September and November, Derby Register Office hosted some 200 marriages, three times as many as in the same three months of 1938.

The 350 “enemy aliens” registered in Derbyshire each had to appear before a tribunal in October. Most were refugees from Germany and Austria, and were treated sympathetically.

Their registration cards were marked “Refugee from Nazi Oppression” and many were permitted to register for National Service or to seek employment.

As Christmas 1939 approached, with no sign of the expected onslaught of aerial attack, many children, who had been evacuated in the days before war was declared, returned home to their families.

And, as the 1930s drew to a close, the Evening Telegraph commented: “It is hard to realise that there is a war on.”

Next month, Anton begins a new series looking at the Fifties.

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