Nightmare in the suburbs
A Surrey family feels the wrath of the Luftwaffe
When the Luftwaffe shifted its focus to night bombing, the frontline of the war moved from the airfields to the homes of ordinary British civilians.
Suddenly, the most dangerous place in the country wasn’t in a fighter cockpit or on a warship, but in your own living room.
The homes that were once places of refuge became targets, and with no warning, a direct hit could turn a family’s life into a fight for survival.
Trapped beneath feet of rubble, victims of the Blitz were plunged into a terrifying darkness, facing not only the risk of being crushed but also the dangers of fire, gas, and a silent, unexploded bomb.
The air raid siren was a call to action, and for the civilians on the ground, the war was now a desperate, personal battle.
The Blitz
After failing to break the Royal Air Force during the daylight battles of the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe shifted its strategy in September 1940.
This new phase of the air campaign, known as the Blitz, saw a move from targeting military installations to a sustained bombing campaign against British cities.
On September 7, a massive force of German bombers, escorted by fighters, launched the first major raid on London, an event that marked the beginning of a relentless onslaught.
...that turned vast areas of the city into a fiery inferno...
The developments in September were a turning point. Instead of attacking vital airfields and radar stations, the Luftwaffe began flying huge formations over London, dropping high-explosive bombs and incendiaries that turned vast areas of the city into a fiery inferno.
These raids were primarily conducted at night, which made them difficult for the RAF's limited night-fighter force to counter.
The sheer scale and persistence of the bombing were designed to break the morale of the British civilian population, forcing the government to sue for peace.
Firemen battle to control flames raging through a town house ravaged by a direct hit in 1940 during the Blitz. The Blitz was a sustained German bombing campaign that inflicted devastating damage on British cities starting in September 1940. While other industrial areas and cities were targeted, the campaign’s main focus was London. The Luftwaffe dropped thousands of tons of high-explosive and incendiary bombs on the capital, destroying millions of homes and causing widespread destruction. Despite the immense damage and terror, the raids failed to break the will of the Londoners, who demonstrated incredible resilience in the face of the onslaught. The city's inhabitants sought shelter in Underground stations and makeshift bunkers, but they also worked to rescue survivors and contain fires, forging a powerful sense of community and defiance. The courage shown by the people of London became a symbol of British resistance.
Colour pictures revealed of London blitz from Nazi bombers in World War II | Daily Mail Online
...a state of perpetual anxiety...
The effect on civilians was profound. The constant threat of air raids created a state of perpetual anxiety, as families crowded into public shelters, underground tube stations, or makeshift shelters in their gardens.
The sounds of air raid sirens, anti-aircraft guns, and bombs exploding became a part of everyday life.
Despite the terror and destruction, the British public's morale did not break. Instead, the shared experience of enduring the bombings forged a strong sense of community and resilience.
This unyielding spirit proved to the Germans that their campaign of terror had failed, and the Blitz became a symbol of British defiance.
Aldwych Tube station during the London blitz. During the Blitz, London's Underground stations were transformed into public air raid shelters. Every night, thousands of people streamed into the stations, turning platforms and tunnels into temporary dormitories. The Underground offered a powerful sense of security, providing refuge from the constant terror above ground. This communal experience, with strangers sharing songs, stories, and food, fostered a powerful sense of resilience and solidarity among the civilian population.
Aldwych Tube station during the London blitz. : r/Colorization
A quiet London suburb
Before the Second World War, Coulsdon was a tranquil, growing suburb on the southern edge of London.
The town's character was defined by a steady expansion of semi-detached and detached homes, built to accommodate families seeking a quieter life away from the city's hustle and bustle.
The area, with its rolling chalk hills and lush greenery, was a popular spot for commuters who used the well-developed railway network to travel into the capital for work.
...where families felt secure...
Life in Coulsdon was calm and orderly. The town had a thriving local community, centered around its shops, churches, and social clubs.
It was a place where children could play safely in the streets and where families felt secure.
The looming threat of war seemed a world away, and the daily concerns were more about new housing developments and the arrival of new neighbours.
The serene atmosphere of Coulsdon in the late 1930s was a stark contrast to the chaos and terror that would descend upon the town just a few short years later, as its peaceful skies became the stage for one of the most brutal air campaigns in history.
...a furious battlefield...
By 1940, Surrey, with its green fields and charming villages, found itself on the very frontline of the war.
Its location just to the south of London placed it directly in the flight path of German bomber formations.
As the Battle of Britain raged, Surrey became a key operational area for RAF Fighter Command, with crucial airfields like Kenley, Biggin Hill, and Croydon located on its soil.
These bases were the primary targets for the Luftwaffe’s relentless attacks, turning the skies over the picturesque countryside into a furious battlefield.
...bore the brunt of many stray or off-target bombs...
The residents of Surrey, especially those in towns like Coulsdon, found their lives irrevocably changed.
Though the Blitz's main focus was on London, Coulsdon, situated on the capital's southern edge, bore the brunt of many stray or off-target bombs.
The nightly air raids, with their eerie sound of droning bombers and the violent thud of exploding bombs, became a terrifying routine.
The town’s civilians, from families to the local Home Guard and Air Raid Wardens, were forced to adapt to a new reality of war.
They learned to seek shelter in makeshift bunkers or under the stairs as bombs fell, and they became active participants in the war effort, rescuing survivors from the rubble, extinguishing fires, and tending to the wounded.
The Bombing of 49 Woodcote Grove Road, Coulsdon
On the 18th September 1940, the Luftwaffe’s relentless focus on bombing London had become a terrifying nightly routine.
In Whyteleafe, a local schoolboy, Maurice Allward, meticulously recorded no less than six air raid warnings throughout the day, each lasting between 15 minutes and an hour.
As night fell, a new and more ominous sound filled the air—the continuous, low drone of German bombers passing overhead through a cloudless, starry sky, a soundtrack to the terror that had descended upon the capital.
...the hell about to be unleashed upon them...
In a quiet suburban street in Coulsdon, the Jewell family was gathered at home, utterly unaware of the hell about to be unleashed upon them.
Mr. Morton Jewell, a civil servant, and his wife, Annie, were both air raid wardens.
Their twin 18-year-old daughters were at home, joined by a visitor, John Noel Marston, a 19-year-old Home Guardsman.
Their evening was shattered at around 10 p.m. when a high-explosive bomb, one of several dropped in the area, scored a direct hit on their home at 49 Woodcote Grove Road.
The front of the house was obliterated, and the first floor collapsed, burying the five occupants under four feet of rubble and debris.
...for a moment, he was stunned...
Outside, a war reserve policeman named MacDonald was passing the house when the bomb detonated.
The blast threw him to the ground, and for a moment, he was stunned.
But he quickly regained his wits and, at 10:10 p.m., ran to raise the alarm.
Acting alone, he heroically managed to pull one of the twin daughters from the wreckage.
Within minutes, Police Inspector C. MacFarlane arrived with a rescue party from Wallington.
...a dangerous gas leak was filling the rubble-strewn void...
At the nearby 14 Group Coulsdon, Police Sergeant Edward Cackett had just started his shift when the call came in.
He and Police War Reserve Miller raced to the scene on their bikes, arriving at about 10:20 p.m. just as the first twin was being loaded into an ambulance.
MacDonald quickly briefed them on the dire situation: four more people were trapped in the wreckage, and a dangerous gas leak was filling the rubble-strewn void where they lay.
...a man of remarkable courage and tenacity...
Without a second to waste, Cackett and Miller jumped into action.
They could see the second twin through a narrow gap in the debris. Cackett, a man of remarkable courage and tenacity, began to work his way into the small, rubble-choked hole.
Using only his hands, he cleared bricks and debris, passing them back to Miller. He finally squeezed into the void and saw the horrifying scene.
The second twin was sitting in a high-backed wooden chair, her head pressed down by the collapsed floor above. Morton Jewell and his wife, Annie, were in the same predicament.
They were conscious, but their heads were pinned to a table by the weight of the floor.
The younger man, John Marston, was almost completely buried under a huge pile of rubble, only his feet visible.
It was immediately clear that freeing Morton would be incredibly difficult—if Cackett removed the weight from him, it would be transferred onto his wife.
...that held the shattered house in a precarious balance...
The situation became even more complex when the official rescue party, led by Richard Hayes, arrived.
The police were ordered to withdraw, but Cackett was so far inside the wreckage that he didn’t hear the command and kept working.
The two men, Cackett and Hayes, began the painstaking process of removing loose timber and rubble.
They worked with extreme care, ensuring they didn’t disturb any of the remaining supporting timbers that held the shattered house in a precarious balance.
Their first success came when they were able to saw away the chair the second twin was trapped in. Cackett then carefully pulled her out and carried her to a police car, which rushed her to the hospital.
...the rescue became even more perilous...
The air raid was still raging, and at this moment, the rescue became even more perilous.
Another bomb dropped terrifyingly close to the scene and failed to detonate, a silent, ticking time bomb waiting just feet away.
Undeterred, Hayes crawled back under the wreckage and skillfully secured a three-ton jack under a collapsed beam, preventing the upper floor from shifting further.
Cackett then managed to free Morton Jewell by sawing through the table that had him pinned.
They pulled him out of the hole backward and handed him to a stretcher party.
...clearing debris with their bare hands...
Now, their focus shifted to Annie Jewell, who was trapped 10 feet inside the wreckage. The two men crawled towards her, clearing debris with their bare hands.
Hayes began to saw away the chair that held her, while Cackett steadied it, but as they worked, they realized her left arm was also trapped.
They crawled even further, managed to take the weight off her arm, and pulled her out on her back by her ankles.
Their final, grim task was to reach John Marston.
As they cleared the debris from his body, the heartbreaking reality of his situation became clear: the young Home Guardsman had succumbed to his multiple injuries.
...several nerve-shattering hours...
Cackett and Hayes continued to search until they were certain there were no more people under the collapsed house.
With his mission complete, Cackett went on a fruitless search for the unexploded bomb, which was later discovered in a nearby garden.
He finally reported back to his unit at 2 a.m., having spent several nerve-shattering hours in the rubble.
Their haste was tragically justified just two hours later, at 4 a.m., when the remains of 49 Woodcote Grove Road caught fire, completely destroying what was left of the house.
Recognitions of bravery
The incredible bravery displayed during the rescue at Woodcote Grove Road did not go unnoticed.
Police Inspector MacFarlane immediately brought the heroic actions of Richard Hayes to the attention of the Coulsdon and Purley Sub-Controller, recommending him for a Gallantry Award.
A similar recommendation was made for Police Sergeant Edward Cackett by the Regional Commissioner.
These were men of great courage, but their story is one of everyday heroes forged in extraordinary circumstances.
West Sussex Gazette and South of England Advertiser, dated 17th April 1941, reporting on Hayes being awarded the O.B.E. for his heroism during the rescue.
...the devastated house...
At 35 years old, Sergeant Edward Cackett was already a ten-year veteran of the police force when he answered the call to the devastated house.
A local man, born in Croydon in 1905 to a milkman father, he lived at 30 Brighton Road in Coulsdon.
Cackett's resolute and steady work beneath the collapsed home, using his hands to clear debris and eventually carrying one of the twins to safety, showed a professional calm in the face of chaos.
He was the son of John Edward and Fanny Cackett and had a younger sister, Phyllis. Edward Cackett's life of service continued long after the war, and he passed away in 1988, a quiet hero of the Blitz.
...preventing the entire house from caving in...
Richard Chadwick Hayes served in the RAF later in the Second World War. You can see the British Empire Medal ribbon on his tunic.
Richard Hayes, a skilled Master Builder, was among the first to join the local Rescue Service.
Born in July 1905, he was the son of Charles and Eva Hayes.
By 1929, he had married Nancy Kinsley and was working as a joiner.
At the time of the rescue, the 35-year-old lived at 85 Woodman Road. His expertise as a builder proved invaluable.
It was Hayes who used his knowledge of structural integrity to fix a three-ton jack under a collapsed beam, preventing the entire house from caving in on them as they worked.
Post-war, Hayes followed his father into the RAF after October 1942, serving in a ground-based role before becoming a clerk of works.
He passed away in 1976, leaving behind a legacy of selfless courage.
...had faced unimaginable loss with stoicism and courage...
The family they risked their lives for, the Jewells, had also contributed to the war effort. Morton Jewell, born in 1880, was a civil servant in the Colonial Office.
He and his wife, Anne Marion Tanner, had three children.
Their twin daughters, Margaret and Christine, were born in 1922.
Tragically, their son, Lieutenant Clive Morton Jewell, RN, was killed in a flying accident on August 1, 1941, when his Swordfish aircraft crashed upon landing on the HMS Ark Royal.
He was one of five men who perished when a 40-pound bomb on the aircraft detonated.
For his services to the nation, Morton Jewell was later awarded the MBE, a small recognition for a man who had faced unimaginable loss with stoicism and courage.
Further reading
