Christmas In Sheffield, 1940

[Bayleaf]

Christmas 1940

Seventy-one years ago, the approach of Christmas in Sheffield was very different from today.

In December 1940, Sheffield suffered two ‘blitz’ attacks, one on the night of Thursday, 12^th and again on the night of Sunday, the 15^th. The attacks were not unexpected, as other large cities had already suffered, and Professor J.B.S.Haldane had written that “There is a half square mile of Sheffield which is more vital for the production of munitions than any other part of Britain”, so it seemed inevitable that sooner or later the city would be a target.

The first raid left the city in a state of shock, but it recovered quickly. On the 15^th, there was, as for many years previously, a performance of The Messiah in the Victoria Hall. There were a few gaps in the choir and orchestra, but the performance was attended by between 200 and 250 people.

That day, people went to churches in the middle of town, not in normal numbers, but sufficient to make a congregation both at morning and afternoon services. In the suburbs, congregations were also smaller, but “a heartfelt thankfulness for deliverance rendered the services most impressive”.

In fact in the raids, eighteen places of worship were completely destroyed or rendered permanently unusable, and a very large number seriously or slightly damaged.

After the raids, the city resumed something approaching normal life, but nevertheless, Christmas came and many people who had lost their homes and belongings were still being cared for in centres.

And so came the strangest Christmas in Sheffield. A few children dared the now total blackout to sing carols door to door in the traditional way.

It was a period when people found themselves doing things they had never done before, such as getting up in the dark to be sure of a seat at the Lyceum pantomime at 11 o’clock in the morning! Despite some of the cast having lost everything when their lodgings were destroyed, the show opened on Christmas Eve as usual, with performances at 11 am and 2 pm.

Individual reaction to the keeping of Christmas varied. There were two kinds of people, those who obstinately and defiantly sent cards, bought presents and invited relatives to dinner, and those who forgot the traditional activities altogether, either because they were working too hard or because they did not like the dramatic contrast with actual conditions which pleased others.

Private generosity and public responsibility alike were drawn upon to provide the homeless with quite a merry time. Turkey and a party were provided in most places. In one district, the wardens abandoned a party planned for themselves and offered the supplies and funds they had collected for it to the principal rest centre. There was a centre at High Storrs School, and much of the cooking for it was done by the staff of Penrhos College at Chatsworth House, and Christmas dinner at High Storrs was courtesy of venison sent by the Duchess of Devonshire!

In rest centres, hospitals and nursing homes, holly and crackers appeared as in happier times.

Some people who had seen their homes destroyed or rendered uninhabitable went back for Christmas Day, and defiantly ate their Christmas dinner in their Anderson shelter or the remains of the kitchen, returning to the rest centres at night with a feeling of having defied Hitler.

But for many people, it was a working Christmas. Some managed at least one day off, but there was no respite for the Council workmen toiling to restore the essential services, water, light and heat. For them there was no time off.

After Christmas, life quickly returned to what passed for normal in the damaged city, and although there were further alarms, the city was spared more major attacks.

I particularly like a story from the aftermath of the first raid. Life was made hazardous by a number of unexploded bombs around the city, and on the Saturday following the first raid, a house on Myrtle Road was destroyed by an undiscovered bomb. An elderly lady who was rescued unhurt was cared for by a warden who gave her a cup of tea and asked whether she had noticed anything the morning after the raid. She thought for a moment and said “Well, there was a hole in the roof,...and there was a hole in the sink...and yes, there was a hole in the floor under the sink as well.”

“Didn’t you do anything about it?” asked the warden.

“Oh yes”, was her reply, “I put a board over it so that the cat wouldn’t fall through!”

So, a Christmas very different from the one we celebrate. In St Gabriel’s Church, Greystones, there is always a poignant reminder at the back of church, where there is the memorial to two local men, Thomas Wilson and Thomas Paramore, wardens, who lost their lives in the first raid, helping others. We remember them in November on Remembrance Day, but perhaps we could spare a thought as we celebrate Christmas, seventy-one years after the one they didn’t live to see.

(Much of this information is taken from the book “Raiders over Sheffield” by Mary Walton and J.P.Lamb)