On Friday 25 – Saturday 26 April 1941, Newcastle endured one of its worst nights of the Second World War, with terrible consequences in Heaton. The area had suffered bomb damage before and would again, as the Germans targeted railways, factories and shipyards – but this was a night like no other.
Earlier in the evening, incendiary bombs had fallen around the Heaton Secondary Schools in High Heaton and damaged properties on Stephenson Road, Horsley Road and Weldon Crescent. Two had fallen onto the eaves of the Corner House Hotel, where civilians scaled a drainpipe and threw them to the ground to be extinguished with sand.
The Lyric Cinema (now the People’s Theatre) was also hit. And on Jesmond Park East, two houses ‘Denehurst‘ and ‘Wyncote’ (which was occupied by the military at the time) suffered fire and water damage. There was other minor damage right across the east of Newcastle. But none of these episodes, as terrifying as they were to those in the vicinity, prepared the people of Heaton for what came next.
At 10.20pm a high explosive device seriously damaged numbers 20 and 22 Cheltenham Terrace. Two people were seriously injured at number 20 and were taken to First Aid post Number 6. Another ten people were treated at the scene. Simultaneously, incendiary bombs hit the nearby Heaton Electric cinema.
Ten minutes later, another high explosive completely demolished numbers 4 and 6 Cheltenham Terrace. Two bodies were recovered before rescuers had to give up for the night due to the threat of the gable end collapsing. There was considered to be no chance of any survivors.
And at the same time, a parachute mine fell on the adjoining Guildford Place, demolishing several houses and causing severe damage to many more. Although water was immediately sprayed over the area, a fractured gas main caught fire.
And still the raid continued. A high explosive device made a huge crater at the junction of Algernon and Shields Roads, with three men injured when another gas main exploded. And nearby a gents’ lavatory at the junction of Shields Road and Union Road was completely destroyed. Yet another bomb fell on the main walk of Heaton Park but here only greenhouse windows were broken.
This detail from a German map of Tyneside, dating from 1941, illustrates how vulnerable Heaton and, in particular Guildford Place and Cheltenham Terrace were, squeezed as they were between key Nazi targets, marked in red, purple and black.
You can see the full map on the Library of Congress website.
Heaton History Group member, Ian Clough, remembers that his father, who even then kept the sweetshop that still bears the family name, was one of the many overstretched emergency workers and volunteers on duty. He was a volunteer fireman and had to pass his own bomb-damaged shop to help others.
When we asked Ian if he could find out more about that awful night, he interviewed three survivors of the Guildford Place / Cheltenham Terrace tragedy. Here are their accounts:
‘I was at home with my parents Arthur and Elizabeth and Uncle George Shaw, Dad’s younger brother, at number 14 Cheltenham Terrace, together with two friends. We were having supper when the air raid siren sounded at approximately 9pm.
For some strange reason this was usually a cue for my mother to see that everything was tidy and that the dishes were washed. Father declared ‘That’s close’ and, after donning his black greatcoat, went upstairs to see if he could get sight of anything from the landing window. There was a whoosh sound initially, then a silence accompanied by a tangible pressure and then the force struck home – literally; father was propelled down the stairs without a button remaining on his coat.
The back of our house had been completely blown off. This was in the direction of the explosion so it was mainly through a vacuum effect. Father had erected stout doors to cover our dining room windows to comply with the blackout regulations and they may have offered protection from any flying debris from outside. I first realised that I was a victim in all that was happening when a wavering door in its frame threatened to fall on me but just missed. It gave way to a shower of bricks falling from upstairs which left lasting scars on my legs. Mother and I were showered with plaster dust and it seemed to take many weeks of hair washes to finally remove all of its traces. Strange things had happened; a teapot that was on the table was now on the mantelshelf in one piece. The piano was no longer an upright one as it had somersaulted over the settee and was now upside down and resting on a completely unharmed china cabinet with contents intact.
Dad’s other brothers also lived with us but were out at the time. Thomas was an air raid warden and William was a lay preacher and had been sick visiting. It wasn’t until the next day that we were told that both of them had been killed. At 4 Cheltenham Terrace, the Robson family of four had perished.
Guildford Place, the one-sided street that was back to back with us and overlooked the railway had taken a direct hit. Most of the occupants of numbers 8 through to 15 were killed. The Luftwaffe was targeting the marshalling yards at Heaton Junction but released their payload prematurely while following the line of the railway.
Our house was now uninhabitable but because the resources of the Council were overstretched we had to find temporary accommodation in Osborne Road, Jesmond. This happened immediately and so, what with that and working, I had little chance to witness the horrors that the authorities had to endure in recovering and identifying bodies and demolishing what was left of the houses.
After a year we moved back into our house (which by now was renumbered as 18). A gas pipe had burst in the blast and we were greeted by a bill for all that had leaked. Initially there was still scaffolding inside the house and as compensation was so inadequate we had to clear the mess and clean everything out ourselves. When we asked for wallpaper, which was in short supply, we were given enough to cover one wall. Our property now had become the gable end of one row of surviving terrace houses as the line of neighbouring homes on either side of us were deemed irreparable and pulled down.
On the night of the air raid my brother, Albert ,was away serving in the Army and brother Arthur was on fire watch for his firm on the Quayside. The devastation and annihilation of his neighbours prompted Arthur to join the R.A.F. and become a pilot but that, as they say, is another story.’
Ian discovered that the two friends who were having supper with Muriel and her family were Nell and her mother.
Mother and I were sitting at the table after being invited to supper by Muriel and her family when suddenly we found ourselves in this nightmare situation. Both of us were being propelled backwards by the blast of an enormous explosion and then the ceiling came down on top of us. There was nothing we could do but lie there until the wardens came and dug us out. It is funny how strange things stick in your mind but as we were assisted out of the house via the hallway a musical jug was happily giving us a rendition of ‘On Ilkley Moor Ba Tat’.
Skirting around all of the amassed rubble that was once people’s homes we were taken to an air raid shelter in the cellar of Charlie Young, the butcher, on Heaton Road. When the ‘all clear’ was sounded, we discovered, through her covering of ceiling plaster, that mother’s face was covered in blood. Firstly she was taken to a first aid post at Chillingham Road baths and put on a stretcher. Then we both got into an ambulance and were turned back from many a hospital until mother was eventually admitted to the Eye Infirmary.
We asked a local policeman if he would get a message to my Uncle Jack who was also in the police and lived in the west end. Uncle took me in and the following day I realised that our handbags and other belongings had been left behind at Cheltenham Terrace. Walking along Heaton Road to see if I could retrieve them, I cannot recall how many people approached me with the same words; ‘I thought you were dead!’ Mother had lost the use of her left eye and had to wear a patch for the rest of her life and we had suffered a most traumatic experience. Yet we were the fortunate ones as for 45 members of those neighbouring families that night was to be their last.
Footnote 1 I believe that what Mr Shaw, Muriel and Arthur’s father, saw from his vantage point was something that at first looked like a large balloon which, on reflection, was a land mine on a parachute, floating down.
Footnote 2 I went to Heaton High School in the 1930s and one of my subjects was German so we were invited to meet and socialise with a group of German schoolchildren who were on a school visit hosted by Newcastle Council. They were given a list of Newcastle’s favourite tourist attractions and maps of Newcastle and the transport system to help them to get about. Many of us took up the offer of being pen pals and one girl even went on a visit to the home of one of the students and came back full of what she had been told of how Adolf Hitler was going to be such a wonderful leader of the German nation. When my pen pal remarked that he had heard that Newcastle had a large and important railway station and asked to be sent details, my dad told me not to write to him anymore. It was not long after that that we were at war with Germany. We then wondered if there had been something sinister behind the visit and were the children and their school teachers, innocently or otherwise, sent over on more than just a cultural mission.
I was on fire watch for my firm of importers at No14 Wharf on the Quayside when the air raid sirens started wailing and we were on full alert. I heard the noise of bombs exploding, repeatedly exploding, and I thought to myself ‘Somebody’s got it.’ I had a rough idea of the direction of the hits but nothing prepared me for the spectacle of devastation I was to see.
It was 9am, and daylight, as I approached Guildford Place; the one-sided terraced street overlooking the railway. Little was left of the houses nearest to Heaton Road and my heart raced as I hurried up to the corner of my own street Cheltenham Terrace. The first thing that greeted me was a ribbon strung across the road at the entrance to my street with a policeman on duty to prevent any looting. He stopped me going any further and I explained that I lived here. Well, I had lived here!
I was in a state of shock – astounded at what was all around me. I’m still vague as to how I found my family but they certainly weren’t there anymore. Muriel worked as secretary to the manager of Bitulac Ltd and he offered us temporary accommodation in his home on Osborne Road. Dad found us a house to rent on Chillingham Road and he borrowed a van to collect some of what was left of our furniture. When loaded up I got in the cab and father said ‘Have you locked the front door, son?’ He had to smile when I said ‘What’s the use of that, man? We’ve got no wall on the back of our house!’ We lived in Chillingham Road until our house was repaired.
Muriel and I were young and felt that we had to fulfil our duty to the nation. Muriel trained as a nurse and, at one time, she worked in a hospital where wounded soldiers were coming back from France. I had made my mind up that I wanted to be a pilot and joined the RAF.
The initial training procedure would astound anyone now. We were introduced to a de Havilland Tiger Moth and, within eight hours, were flying solo. The instructor would watch us from the ground – take off, fly around and then land. If you couldn’t do it you were no longer a pilot.
Then it was off to Canada to gain our proficiency. Why Canada? Well, most of the British airfields were being used for war operations and could not be spared for pilot training. We were taught navigation and how to read approaching weather conditions and understand the various cloud formations. We would normally then fly twin engine planes – Airspeed Oxfords in particular. One of the most difficult things to master was flying in formation and then banking to left or right. The outer pilots had to increase their speed slightly just to keep in line. It was important to be taught ground recognition and the open spaces of Canada did not challenge us enough and we had to come back home over towns and cities to gain experience in that skill.
I served abroad for a while and was then privileged to be asked to train as a flying instructor and was sent just over the Northumbrian border into Scotland for that. It was then my job to pass on my knowledge to the new recruits – young lads who were then sent out on dangerous missions where the mortality rate was so high.
When the war was over we queued up for our civvies (civilian clothes) it was almost a case of one size fits all and it did feel strange to be out of uniform. But we had done our bit and were thankful that we were the lucky ones – lucky to still be alive.
(You can read about Arthur’s later contribution to Heaton’s history here )
Roll of Honour
Bodies were still being recovered five days later. The final death toll was reported to be 46 with several bodies still unidentified. Those which remained unidentified were buried in a common grave in Heaton Cemetery.
As you can see from the following list, the ages of the known victims ranged from 9 weeks to 77 years and in several houses whole families died together.
William Aiken aged 43
Ethel Mary Airey, aged 23
Amy Angus 17
Edna Jane Angus 28
Hannah Angus 49
Ian Angus 13
Maureen Angus 15
Robert Nixon Angus 29
Mary Elizabeth Glass Balmer 17
William Blenkinsop 38
John McKnight Erskine 20
James Falcus 45
Albert George Fuller 37
Gordon W T Gardner 25
Elizabeth Glass 53
Edith Rosina Hagon 8
Joan Thompson Hagon 30
Joyce Hagon 16
Raymond Hagon 7
Isabella Harrison 77
William Henry Hoggett 39
Mary Jane Moffit 62
Archibold Taylor Munro 29
Ethel Mary Park 60
Francis Park 58
Mavis Park 31
Alice Jane Reed 64
Joseph Dixon Reed 68
Joseph Lancelot Reed 9 weeks
Eliza Margaret Robson 70
Ella Mildred Robson 43
Evelyn Robson 38
James Kenneth Robson 19
William Robson 72
Thomas Shaw 48
William Atkinson Shaw 40
Robert Smith 27
Edwin Snowdon 17
Henry Snowdon 12
Nora Snowdon 46
Victor Snowdon 48
Charles Thomas Thompson 62
David Harkus Venus 27
Alexander Henry White 54
Blanche White 43
Roy Ripley and Brian Pears, whose website is an amazing resource for anyone researching the WW2 home front in the north east;
Heaton History Group member, Julia McLaren, who drew our attention to the German map of Tyneside.
Can you help?
if you know more about the night of 25-26 April 1941 or have memories, family stories or photographs of Heaton during WW2 to share, we’d love to hear from you. Either write directly to this website, by clicking on the link immediately below the title of this article or email the secretary of Heaton History Group, Chris Jackson
Originally published on 12/12/2015
Thank you to HHG member Keith Fisher, whose grandfather worked as a volunteer fireman alongside Arthur Clough, who has emailed the following additional information:
The people in the air-raid shelter in the lane behind Clough’s were all dead without a mark on them but that was kept very quiet. The blast from the land-mine got past the shelter’s blast wall and stopped their hearts.
My grandfather found a red-hot back-boiler in the rear of his premises (Carrol and Co at 108 Heaton Road) that had been blown from one of the Cheltenham Terrace or Guildford Place houses through his yard wall and the rear wall of his shop.
My grandmother was on her way down to our shelter (in Tintern Crescent back-garden) when she heard the flap-flap flapping of the parachute that carried the land-mine and quickly scurried down into the shelter.
The rear wall of the house behind us – on Heaton Road – showed a ten foot diagonal crack for decades after, which was the result of a poor foundation due to old tree roots, and the blast from the mine.
Ian Clough emailed:
Those who analyse such things as they read through them will have discovered that the official death toll was 46 but the accompanying list of victims totalled 44. Well one person in particular who noticed was Heaton History Group member, Shirley Kell (nee Thompson), who told us:
My grandfather, Charles Thomas Thompson, was one of those killed. After rushing into the Air Raid Shelter, his wife Margaret declared that she was cold and caring husband Charles went back to the house for her coat. His death certificate says that he was 62 years old, a Tram Car Conductor, ‘Cause of death – Due to War Operations’. The Clerk to the City Council was the informant and the column ‘When and where died’ states ‘Twenty sixth April 1941 Dead body found at 86a Heaton Road’. Wife Margaret disagrees as Charles’ death announcement in the Evening Chronicle differs and says ’25th April’. As she listened to the untimely explosions outside she knew in her heart that when Charles didn’t return straight away, he was dead.
86A Heaton Road was the flat above number 86; a Dry Cleaners called Bandbox, but the entrance was, and still is, in the side street – the first house door in Cheltenham Terrace.
Our thanks goes to Shirley for this revelation. So only one victim to find now. Do you know who it is?
……….. A high explosive device made a huge crater at the junction of Algernon and Shields Roads, with three men injured when another gas main exploded. And nearby a gents’ lavatory at the junction of Shields Road and Union Road was completely destroyed……….
My mother, Ivy May Hardy (nee Jones) of 24 Denmark Street, Heaton worked at the Cremona toffee factory and told me of her memory of the night.
She and others were watching a film in what was Blacks Regal cinema at the top of Shields Road when the sirens started and the cinema evacuated quickly. As the audience spilled out onto Shields Road she thought at first of going with the men in the rush but decided she would make for home. Making her way from Shields Road and along Algernon Road she received a terrific push which toppled her over some sandbags into a shop doorway, and was told to stay there.
Men leaving the cinema raced down the gents underground toilet in the hope of safety when a bomb followed them down and as mentioned, all was destroyed.
She never new who pushed her and so saved her life.
Her husband to be David Wilson Hardy (my father) was born and raised at 2 Bamborough Street, Byker and he too had memories of the Sun cinema with wooden benches for seats, but cheap as a jam jar and free woolly jumpers.
He joined the RN 1936 so the war came as a shock after 3 years of peaceful cruising on the Royal Oak – though he did witness the German bombers readying for war when they bombed Spain to support Franco.
The Royal Oak was sunk at anchor in Scapa Flow, at the very start of the war, by a German submarine sneaking under the defence booms and firing her torpedoes at point blank range in a black night. A sitting duck filled with young trainee sailors, some 800 perished. Everyone thought David had gone down with her but had actually been drafted 3 weeks before, and censorship meant he couldn’t inform the anyone.
I live in Somerset as an exiled Geordie after 22 years in the navy and 20 years with the MoD. Their is no doubt I would belong to your society if I returned.
My mother was evacuated to Gilsland in 1944 for my birth, and I was raised until 6 years at 3 Belvedere Street, Heaton attending North View school briefly before we left when father eventually returned from the war having had a naval career he wasn’t expecting.
Thank you very much for your post, Brian. I’ll make sure Ian, who researched that night, sees it. If you’re ever up north, do get in touch. It would be lovely if you could come to one of our talks.
Chris (Secretary, Heaton History Group)
Clem Walsh emailed: I lived at Longbenton and was on a Tram on my way to work at R&W Hawthorn Leslies St Peter’s, as the Tram came up Heaton Rd.and approached Cheltenham Tce, we coud see all the clothes trapped in the branches of the trees ajoining the bridge over the railway at Heaton Station. I knew Edwin Snowdon he & I worked as Office boy’s at Hawthorn Leslies.
My late wife, Marjorie Swaile as she was then, had just come out of the Heaton Elecrtric, and walked home to 6 North View they walked upstair’s & were just about to light the gas lamp which was at the side of the window when there was a great flash as Guildford Place Blew up.
Regards William C Welsh.
This wonderful article takes me back to when I was born in Cardigan terrace on 15th October 1941, not that I know about the bombing, but a bedroom in my grandparents house, was pock marked with the aftermath of the bomb, so in my early years I knew all about the devastation caused to Cheltenham terrace and Guildford Place, my grandparents name was Richardson and they lived at no. 136!