UXB - UNEXPLODED BOMB

 



Heinkel HE 1-11

 

 In the Dad's Army episode "Something Nasty in the Vault", an unexploded SC50 traps Captain Mainwaring and Sergeant Wilson in the bank vault.

While doing research for BLOOD ON THE TIDE I needed to find out about unexploded bombs, discovered after WW2. There's a wonderful pub, called the Red Lion at Snargate, that hasn't changed since the 1950s. On the wall was a chart showing 'where the bombs fell in Kent'. The whole map of the county was peppered with black dots. Many were 'doodlebugs', V1 and V2 flying bombs, that fell short of their targets - usually London. But a significant number were those that had been dropped by German bombers returning after a raid, anxious to get rid of excess playload as they fled the pursuing Spitfires and Hurricanes. It was one such that was discovered in the book at Compass Point. This was how Captain Valiant and Sapper Rankin, the bomb disposal experts I had created, described its recovery in the book.

Captain Valiant recovering the SE50 at Compass Point

The timing device was exposed, in surprisingly good condition, considering the length of time it had been buried. Probably, both men agreed, silt and mud covering it had preserved it from the ravages of seawater. Valiant took the proffered wire-cutters that Rankin had anticipated he would need. With a muttered thanks, he reached into the exposed cavity, snipped twice then exhaled noisily.

 ‘Phew, that’s it then.’ Leaning back he looked out towards the horizon. He could see a thin line as the sea started to return. ‘Come on mate, we’d better get a move on. We need the A-frame and tackle so we can lift this blighter out before we get wet.’

-0-

 

‘Jerry designated it an SC fifty. A Heinkel HE one-eleven could carry 40 of these 50 kilogram jobs and each one contained 25 kilos of TNT. Despite their relative small size they could cause quite a blast. Not only that, but the exploding case would send lethal pieces of shrapnel, flying off in all directions - at about 7000 miles an hour.’

Salt screwed up his face and winced. ‘Nasty.’

‘Quite,’ Valiant said. ‘Luckily this one didn’t go off. Possibly the pilot ditched it on the way back from a raid. It happened a lot. Once they’d dumped their bombs on London they high-tailed it back across the channel as quickly as they could, usually pursued by Spits and Hurricanes. Then they’d get rid of as much weight as possible. This one’s been sitting in the mud and silt, covered up, ever since.’

 

 

 

 

GALE WARNINGS

Northern gale expected at Compass Point.

It's well know that we British are obsessed with the weather, it's almost an inevitable topic of conversation when two or more people meet. We've got so used to instant weather forecasts on our phones, computers and at regular intervals on television it's almost impossible to realise that it wasn't always thus. 

Not so long ago those who went to sea would be cautious before setting sail, studying the weather conditions and were usually very skilled at predicting,from the wind and the clouds, what changes were likely. They also looked for advice from those in the know, including the Admiralty and coastguard service. One of the ways the could be informed was by the hoisting of a storm cone. This took the form of a canvas bag in the shape of a cone. If the point was upwards, there was a gale expected from the north and downwards, from the south. If the gales were incessant a drum shape was hoisted.

Interestingly, Rear Admiral Robert Fitzroy was heavily involved in promoting safety at sea, especially with the use of cones, and ultimately had a shipping forecast area named after him.

SHIFTING SHINGLE

Excavator loading dumper truck

The tide is an extraordinary force to be reckoned with. Sailors and fishermen, if they're wise, treat it with respect. In my more active sailing days I crossed the channel, on several occasions. This was before the days of satellite navigation when you had to be able to read a chart and use a compass and... if you were going out of sight of land for any length of time, know how to use a sextant. I had been out of sight of land on several occasions but I was never that far out at sea that I needed to use one. Anyway, I digress.

Rye Harbour breakwater

Not only do the tides move the oceans up and down but it also affects the beaches and along this stretch of coast this means shifting the shingle. So, over the course of several months our beach at Pett Level ends up tight against the breakwater at Rye Harbour. Therefore, somehow, this needs to be remedied by bringing the shingle back.

Narrow gauge railway track

Simplex locomotive

Originally a two foot narrow gauge railway ran along the top of the sea wall, all the way from Rye Harbour to Cliff End. A little petrol locomotive, called a bow-framed Simplex, pulled a rake of skip wagons, each one holding a ton of shingle. This obviously required many journeys but it must have worked as the practice continued well into the 1950s. How things have changed.

Dumper trucks at sunset

Nowadays a fleet of six dumper trucks, each holding 20 times the capacity of the railway skips, trundles the five miles back and forth along the sea wall, full of shingle travelling west and empty returning east. A pickup truck acts as escort vehicle. This goes on from late November until March, then the sea shifts it all back and the following winter it starts all over again.

Sea wall - Pett Level

*PETRIFIED FOREST AND ROCK POOLS

One of the main reasons we moved here was because of the close proximity to the sea. It means that most days, come rain or shine, you'll find me making my way, across the fields to the beach, a journey that can take as little as eight or nine minutes.

It's not your conventional beach, either. When the tide is in, there's just a shingle strand, with occasional glimpses of sand, but when the tide is out, it's magical. Not only is there acres of sand exposed, which Aggie loves to run on, but there are numerous rock pools and ... a sunken forest.

Stretching for 2 kilometers along the shore it's thought to be around 6000 years old. *However, some erroneously call it petrified but this would mean that the trees had turned to stone, which they haven't as you can poke your finger in the timber. Oak, birch and hazel have been identified and hazelnuts that have been found can be carbon-dated to 5,200BC. Small and large mammals roamed through the forest and evidence of burning suggests that there was some deliberate management of the woodland.

Most of the trees are flat but there is one group, not far off shore, that is quite distinctive, not just because it is visible in all but the highest tides but because it featured in a famous pop video. The much missed David Bowie's Ashes to Ashes video was filmed right here at Pett Level. Towards the end of the film, he's being berated by an old lady and as they walk along the beach the gnarled wooden fingers appear in shot.

BLUE BOULDERS & RYE HARBOUR

A 'blue boulder' collecter

Coming from a background in ceramics I'm always intrigued to learn about industries that are related to the process of producing pottery. One such, albeit a cottage industry, was carried out very close to where I live, at Rye Harbour.

A boulder boat



It involved the collection of 'blue boulders', large flint pebbles that were found in quantities among the shingle around the harbour. Men, and women, would beach a small 'boulder' boat, capable of carrying two to three tons, down by the foreshore and collect the stones by hand. When they had filled the boat, they would wait for the tide to float it off then sail back to the harbour and offload the cargo into a special bay. From here they would be loaded into larger vessels. These would take the boulders round the coast to Runcorn or Selby where they were transferred into narrow boats for shipment to Stoke-on-Trent.

Transferring boulders into a railway wagon

In later years they would have been transferred into railway trucks at the railhead by the William the Conqueror pub. Once in Stoke the flints were mixed with coal, heated in hoppers then ground to a powder which would be mixed with clay to make much stronger and more white pottery.

Men with boulders

Those engaged in it would have made a modest living, if not an easy one, but at least they were out in the fresh air. In the 1920s they were paid nine shillings a ton - 45 pence in today's money. Out of this they had to pay sixpence - 2 1/2 pence - as a royalty and were only allowed to collect 200 tons in a year. The trade died out naturally in the early 1950s but in some places it still possible to see the occasional uncollected pile of 'blue boulders.'



My interpretation of a boulder train.

All photos, except the last one, courtesy of Ryeharbour.net



 LUGWORMS AND OSTERCATCHERS

 

 

I touched on baitdiggers in an earlier post but thought I'd do a bit more research into the worms they seek.

The Lugworm, or Blow Lug Arenicola marina is conspicuous by its absence. What you do see however, are two telltale indicators of its presence. On flat sand, when the tide is out, you will often see lots of little sand wiggles, some forming a messy pile, others an almost perfect Fibonacci spiral. Sometimes they are the same colour as the sand, at others they are dark, showing there is a layer of mud, just below the surface. Close by there will often be a dimple. The worm lives in a U-shaped burrow and the cast is sand that has passed through the creature, after the food has been seperated from it and the 'dimple' is where its mouth lies as it sucks in the sand. These are what the baitdiggers look for.

The other feature of low tide is the wading birds, commonist of which round here is the Oystercatcher Haematopus. The latin name comes from Greek, haima, blood, pous, foot. The common name replaces the older Sea pie.

However, the name Oystercatcher is a bit of a red herring (sorry about the mixed metaphors) as they generally eat mussels and cockles, bristle worms and even sea urchins, small fish and crabs.



Whatever they eat, they are are always entertaining to watch as they dabble around in the rock pools, their song, an urgent piping, then taking off in a flurry of wings when disturbed.