A Little Overtime Work

One night in the life of Frederick Newey Winnall, (my father) during the WW II.

We lived in Kingston- upon- Thames almost on the border between Kingston and Richmond. He worked at a firm called Nash and Thompson on the Kingston bypass. Below is an extract from our family history which I have compiled since about 1985. My father, for some reason never revealed to me, was always known as "Ted" to his parents, siblings and close friends.

Nash and Thompson manufactured aircraft gun turrets of which more and more were required as aircraft designers produced larger and better fortified planes.
Ted used to ride his bicycle five or six miles to work, leaving very early in the morning and getting home equally late at night. So the only time I ever saw him was at week-ends and sometimes not even then. At certain stages of the war when the bombing of London was at its height, much of the evening or night shifts was spent by workers in the air raid shelters. They used to go there when the warning was given and not wait until the Germans were overhead. The latter became the practice of many people in their homes. Many others didn't bother with shelters anyway.
On some occasions when Ted's shift finished an air raid would still be in progress. Although everyone was advised to remain in shelters until the "all-clear sounded, few people did so unless bombs were dropping closely. Ted on many occasions rode home with anti-aircraft shell splinters pinging off the pavements as he passed. There was, of course, a much greater chance of being killed or seriously injured from these, rather than by a bomb dropped by a German plane.
When the workers were in the shelters and a raid was actively taking place there would always be someone at the shelter entrance spotting where the bombs were falling. A running commentary would be provided so that people whose homes were likely to be affected could go, if they wished, to see if their families were all right.
On one night the spotter at the door announced that it looked to be a bit nasty around Ham and indeed it was. I was at home that night with Colin and Mother.
Colin and I had been up at the back window watching the bangs in the distance when, very quickly, it all started to get a bit close. He and I bounded downstairs to dive under the dining table with Mum. (your average dining table was a good shelter). We had barely arrived when there was the biggest explosion we had ever heard not very far away. As well as the noise the whole house shook but it remained intact. Needless to say we did not hurry out of our bolt hole. It was there that Dad found us, quite safe but shaken some thirty five minutes later.
He was only with us long enough to satisfy himself that we were OK. Then he disappeared and we didn't see him again until the next morning.
About half a mile from our house, through sparse woodland, was Craig Road, one of the extremities of Ham. Ted would have seen that things were amiss in that direction as he approached our house. That was were he disappeared to, to see if he could help. Several people that night had good reason to be thankful that he did so.
When Ted got there about three adjoining houses on one side of the road were a heap of rubble and many others were badly damaged. This had been a "land mine".
The air combatants on both sides of the conflict had begun to learn that the conventional bomb was most inefficient simply because it buried itself deep in the ground before exploding. This resulted in a localised crater that in its formation naturally directed most of the blast upwards. This of course could well be desirable if you landed your bomb in the middle of a very strategic target. But such accuracy was very rarely achieved and in any case when trying to demoralise a civilian population it wasn't required anyway.
Therefore it was much better to partially arrest the speed of descent of the bomb with a suitable parachute an moreover fit the bomb with either a time fuse, or a trigger that went off at the lightest touch. Refinements of design could also dictate the direction of the blast. If these were then selected to provide a sideways and slightly downwards blast pattern you got the best of all worlds. These devices were known, incongruously as "land mines".

The results were literally devastating. At least five times the damage was done as would have been achieved by a conventional bomb of the same weight.
As Ted told it, he was met not just with the scene as described but the remains of the house had rescue workers standing on them doing nothing. When asked, these "rescue" men said that nobody who was in any of the houses could possibly still be alive. So Ted made some enquiries to find that three people were unaccounted for and that they used that other natural shelter in most houses, "the Cupboard under the stairs". Then he got some one to point out approximately where the stairs would be. With that information he commenced a solo dig. He continued this like an upside down mole until he could get a reply to his calls- That's where he spent the rest of that night digging away with his hands until he had located Grandma, her daughter and a grandchild. Then he directed the rest of the operation until they were brought out unhurt.
He came home completed exhausted and dishevelled but very happy and at the same time very, very angry.
If ever anyone should have been awarded a medal it was Ted. However I suspect it was not put in the "suggestion box" because of the embarrassment that would have been generated for the Rescue services. The Mayor of Richmond however did send a letter of commendation and thanks.
Peter Winnall

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