An interesting and informative article, jennyann, and thanks for posting the link.
It confirms the widely held view in the 1930s that the outbreak of any major war would be accompanied by an immediate, sustained and devastating aerial attack. This was the thinking which led to the creation of the ARP organisation which went well beyond the appointment of the generally known wardens and included such functions as the police, the Auxiliary Fire Service, the Women’s Voluntary Service and other services responsible for rescue, ambulances, first aid, gas decontamination, and repair and demolition - all under the title “Air Raid Precautions”. The same thinking also led, of course, to the mass evacuation of children from major cities, not least Birmingham, when war became imminent.
Over and above the individual acts of bravery in conditions of great danger which occurred mainly in 1940 and 1941 what strikes me also with the wardens is the sheer dedication, month after month, year after year, with which they performed their duties. Much of their work must have been sheer drudgery, turning up for their shift in all weathers and whatever their personal circumstances, walking the streets in the darkness checking on the blackout and willing the hours to pass quickly and without incident so that they could get back to the comfort of their homes.
I remember our own local warden. He was fortunate in never having to deal with an air raid in his own sector. But he would always be around, occasionally knocking on our door if he saw the merest glimmer of light from a carelessly drawn curtain. He would sometimes loom up out of the darkness and gently admonish my mother for injudicious use of her torch when she was out and about. She would do her best to avoid such encounters by tearing a tiny corner off the Mail and inserting it between bulb and lens to reduce the light level. After a time I discovered this ruse and would surreptitiously remove the piece of paper so that when it was next used the torch would have reverted to its former brilliance. Nothing was ever said but she must have been mystified. I suppose that this was an act of minor sabotage. But in every other respect I was an enthusiastic supporter of the war effort, regularly polishing my father's Home Guard boots, brasso-ing his buckles, cleaning his .303 rifle with oily rag and pull-through (by far the best job) and suppressing fond and ever more distant memories of what bananas, oranges and grapes really tasted like.
Chris
