St Joseph’s, Clifton, 8 June 2015

70 years ago, on 8 June 1945, a Halifax bomber crashed in Clifton. Here near the roundabout at the end of Kingsway North (now Burton Green). Its wing clipped the spire of St Joseph’s on one side of the roundabout and it landed on the other side of the roundabout, behind what was then a large pub/hotel called The Imperial. It had two crew on board and they were both killed in the crash. No one else was killed, despite the fact that this massive aircraft landed in the middle of a suburban area.

I’ve known about this for years, and mentioned it in Chocolate and Chicory: York and beyond, by bicycle. But as with so many aspects of local history I’ve found myself going back to it, with questions and curiosity, as I’ve revisited the local landscape more recently. The incident seems more interesting and more poignant the more I’ve thought about it, and today, 70 years on, I want to revisit and record my questions and thoughts in the hope that anyone who can add further information will do so.

The Press letters page, some years ago, included an evocative account by Peter Stanhope, who witnessed the crash:

The sound and the sights shocked me so much that I dropped my glass bottle of limeade, which shattered and splattered all over the pavement.

From Peter’s description and other accounts it seems that the aircraft was approaching from the north-east, heading for what was then Clifton airfield and the York Aircraft Repair Depot, where Halifaxes were repaired. An obstruction on the runway meant it couldn’t land, and as it manoeuvred away a wing hit the church spire. I’ve tried to imagine how the incident fitted into the landscape, the way it turned, falling, in a curve perhaps mirroring the curve of the roundabout, to the Imperial on the opposite side, and how somehow the pilot managed to land it not on the Imperial or any of the houses around it but in the large car park and garden area behind.

How that was achieved I don’t understand at all. Halifaxes are massive. I’ve tried to picture the wingspan of the thing across the area, and can’t.

This is the Imperial, as it was, before its demolition in the 1990s. This photo was I think taken from the centre of the roundabout.

Now, with housing, from a slightly different angle, a bit to the left, from the end of Burton Green (was Kingsway North).

Houses now fill what must have been the crash site. Around 1980 a cul-de-sac called Waveney Grove was built on what was apparently the pub’s garden. A brick wall around Waveney Grove appears to date from the 1930s, its details matching the nearby housing in Kingsway (Burton Green). So if that boundary marked the edge of the Imperial’s grounds then that must be where the Halifax came to land.

Wall of the Imperial’s garden? From Kingsway (Burton Green)

1930s wall, surrounding Waveney Grove, from Burton Green

I’ve been up there today, cycled round Clifton Moor and then back towards the crash site, through the area now known as Clifton Backies.

I don’t know what time of the day the crash happened, but I thought about it as I stood by the roundabout in that peaceful residential area, with children cycling around and people out walking their dogs, most of us with no memory of the sound of bombers in the skies above.

Just wanted to record it here. Lest we forget.

Further information

I’ve created a Google map including the location of the crash and known visible remains of RAF Clifton. Additional information welcome, please add a comment below or use the contact link.

Pilot F/Lt Ian James Alexander Cruickshanks RAFVR, aged 26 and Flight Engineer F/Sgt Victor Henry Clare DFM RAFVR, aged 20, died in the crash. For more information see this page on Aircraft Accidents in Yorkshire. Details of the crash are also on the Aviation Safety Network database.

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Also on this website

Stephen’s memories and Audrey’s memories of living in York during World War 2.

Memorial at Tholthorpe, one of many memorials to WW2 aircrews in Yorkshire

And see ‘Related pages’, below

Elsewhere on the web

More on the history of the area, including RAF Linton-on-Ouse, on Guy’s website www.newton-on-ouse-history.com

More about Guy in his own words

RAF owes a great deal to inventor Guy Jefferson, from The Press

The post Airfields and airmen appeared first on York Stories.

Today saw the unveiling of a memorial to Bomber Command, to men who lost their lives around 70 years ago, during the Second World War. Some readers will be fully aware why it’s taken so long to erect this memorial, and why Bomber Command’s wartime role was, still is, controversial. The controversy, and the suffering – on both sides – is clearly and thoughtfully presented on the BBC website: Bomber Command fliers in their own words.

The memorial is in London, so its unveiling today isn’t in an obvious way a York story. Though the York Press brought to our attention the case of a veteran of Bomber Command, from nearby Tadcaster, who had been unable to get tickets for the event.

The comments under the story illustrated that the debate continues.

Some refer to them as ‘the heroes of Bomber Command’. Others argue that there’s nothing heroic in bombing civilians. It has to be said that I’ve never heard these men refer to themselves as heroes. They were just doing their job.

They were young, shockingly young in many cases. They saw horrific things. Around half of Bomber Command lost their lives – those who survived lost many friends. The memorial at last acknowledges them and the colleagues they lost.

I’ve wondered if the discomfort and controversy over the role of Bomber Command is why it wasn’t thought appropriate to preserve the former hostel buildings behind the Art Gallery (pictured left), where many of the men who flew the bombers lodged. Perhaps if Spitfire pilots had stayed there it would have been different.

There were many airfields around York, making this a local issue. Elvington (home of the Yorkshire Air Museum) is well-known. Other airfields are forgotten now.

Elvington’s air museum may be a little too militaristic for some. At East Moor and Tholthorpe and many other locations throughout our county there are bits of old runway and peripheral concrete and old airfield buildings crumbling away, poignant and quiet. I’ve visited many of them, cycled to them and walked around them.

Even if we remain ambivalent, and don’t want to call those men heroes, we can recognise the suffering they endured, as well as the suffering they inflicted. There is, after all, no ‘morality’ in war.

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The 70th anniversary of the ‘Baedeker’ raid is being marked in an imaginative way – on Twitter – @BaedekerLive. You can follow events ‘as they happened’, if you’re able to stay up all night. The Twitter feed is viewable now, or later, on this link. It’s an excellent idea. The 140-character message seems the perfect form to convey the urgency and chaos, the widespread reports of damage, of that night 70 years ago.

This image, courtesy of the Imperial War Museum’s collection, shows the effect of the raid on one property. The caption explains:

“This house was almost totally destroyed in a direct hit by a bomb during the ‘Baedeker’ raid … Its owner, Mr McGregor, is shown standing amidst the remains of his home. Mr McGregor and his wife (plus their lodger) were protected from the bomb blast and collapsing masonry by a Morrison air raid shelter. This shelter is visible under rubble to the right of the photograph.”

Though I was born decades after the war, the Baedeker raid has felt ‘close to home’ since I read about it many years ago, and realised how many people died in streets close to where I live.

There are already many pages on this website with further information on the raid and its effects. On 29 April 1942, Stephen was living to the north of the city, Audrey was on Blossom Street, close to the Bar Convent, where five nuns died.

Many people lost their lives that night. William Milner died at York station. Arthur Broadhead died on Bootham. Six year old Betty Pope died in the Queen Anne’s School shelter. Dorothy Thompson died in Nunthorpe Grove. Her body was found on 7 May, at the bottom of a bomb crater.

List of civilian casualties

Perhaps the best place to visit to reflect on the destruction of that night, the devastation brought about by war, and the importance of forgiveness and reconciliation, is the church of St Martin le Grand, on Coney Street. Its book of remembrance is shown on the front page of this website. The book is currently on loan to York Libraries, and is part of an interesting exhibition in York Explore (Central Library).

It’s 8.30 on 28 April. I’ve checked the Twitter feed. Last update: 7pm. ‘All wardens’ posts fully staffed’.

Footnote:

We must also remember the devastating effects of our bombing of ‘enemy targets’. One month earlier, for example, in Lubeck.

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Footnote 2:
00.20, 29 April 2012 – ‘misinformation’ concern: dates confusion

As I’m still awake, and there’s no update on @BaedekerLive, it seems as good a time as any to mention/query the fact that some sources give the date of the Baedeker raid on York as 28-29 April, some as 28 April. Most say 29 April, as it was in the early hours that the bombing began.

A piece on the BBC website says “The county town of York heard the approach of enemy aeroplanes at midnight on 28 April”. Doesn’t seem enough to place the raid as happening on 28 April, does it. But the Wikipedia article does, as did a recent article on a York-based website.

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Footnote 3:
00.35, 29 April 2012 – ‘misinformation’ concern (2): numbers of casualties

Some sources give the number of civilian casualties as 70-something, others as 90-something. Quite a discrepancy there.

The York Press coverage fluctuates on the numbers, even within the same paper, within the last week or two.

A variation of 20 seems a little too vague. A solution seemed to be to trace each name on the list of known casualties to the official Commonwealth War Graves Commission records (list above – Civilian casualties list).

The discrepancy was obvious – it’s due to the weird boundaries at the time, which had half of the Clifton district under Flaxton District Council. This included houses in the Kingsway area. Clearly very much part of York as we know it, and well within the outer ring road, and not far from where I live.

A lot of people died there, and it seems odd that in the 21st century remembering some sources continue to discount them from the numbers.

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[Update: the location seems likely to have been Nunthorpe Hall in York (since demolished). See comments below.]

It’s clearly a rather grand flight of steps, outdoors, in a well-established garden/park area. There’s a large heap of sandbags at the top of the steps. Alongside the steps is what appears to be a rockery of some kind.

The writing on the back of one of the photos (printed as a postcard) says “Oct 4th 1942, In York”.

Ian also recalls his mum saying that “they were at an estate, she was in York when a chocolate factory was bombed, when the Canadians were training for the Dieppe raid Aug ‘42 and she also said she was a guard at the P.O.W. camp for the German prisoners.”

(The bombing of the factory would relate to the Rowntree warehouse near the river being hit during the “Baedeker” raid of 29 April 1942.)

Audrey has mentioned the Prisoner of War camp on the Knavesmire in her memories of York in wartime, and Stephen remembers the ATS girls being stationed on The Mount. I can see from a quick Googling that the ATS personnel were stationed at various places and moved around a lot, but perhaps someone has more information – specific buildings they used? Or perhaps you immediately recognise these rather grand steps?

Comments welcome below. Thanks.

Update – 25 April – further thoughts

A few days ago a friend suggested that this photo doesn’t look like anywhere in York, and clarified my own vague doubts/queries. He suggested that the geology doesn’t fit – and I can see what he means. It would appear to be a fairly steep bank – and York is, in general, fairly flat. The stone in the background may not be a rockery of some kind, but may be instead part a naturally rocky landscape. Perhaps casting the most doubt on York as a location is the worked stone of the retaining walls – which looks a bit ‘rough’, a bit more like the kind of stone you find out to the west of York.

Despite these doubts, I’m leaving it here in case anyone at some point recognises it or can provide any further information.

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March 2012

Audrey, now living in the US, was born in York and lived on Blossom Street, opposite the Bar Convent, during the war years.

See also: Audrey’s memories of the air-raids in York in WW2, Stephen’s memories of the ‘Baedeker’ raid, and his memories of York in WW2.

“We had of course no TV only the radio. I remember the day war was declared I was alone when the news came on and Mr Chamberlain spoke. Mum and dad came home quickly having heard the news and they clung together and the radio was on constantly to hear any broadcast that came on.

Many changes took place quickly from the gas masks in their tin boxes with a cloth strap to hang on your shoulder, I remember the feeling of suffocating when I first tried mine on. We had to stay home apart from limited visits to school whilst the brick shelters were put up.

Many young Leeman Road boys signed up when the 1939 war was declared, several underage ones too. My first husband became a young 17 year old merchant seaman.

The De Grey rooms – popular with the young officers – and Assembly Rooms had various events for people to attend, plus the dance halls quickly filled with girls and service men in the city. Also the Co-op Hall in Railway Street.

Houses and streets descended into darkness with very limited overhead lights in the streets and cars with blinkered headlights, quite dangerous for kids on the Queen Street corner especially. You had to listen before you ran across. I remember running through the streets to get home and bumping into people. Not a chink of light had to show, so the houses had blackout curtains or frames up. My dad made ours of tarred paper and wood and they were put up each night at dusk and checked from the outside as it was an offence to show lights. Volunteer wardens patroled to ensure all was dark and knocked if it wasn’t.

Tanks and army vehicles rolled down the road. Troops marched down too at times.

The Minster had its stained glass removed if I remember correctly and it was stored in a safe place.

During the war, pigswill bins were fastened to lampposts and you could take food waste, potato peel etc. and put it in for collection each day.

Immediately opposite 20 Blossom Street (the garage over which I lived) was the Bar Convent and next to it a building that was taken over for checking recruits medically for the army etc. I remember that my mother had to go over and request a blind or curtain was put up as the young men were naked and visible through the window. It was done and an apology given.

York was never a dull place to live, in war time it was vibrant, filled with foreign troops. Once the war progressed many overseas servicemen came as their countries were overrun. Then the prisoners of war came and were put on Knavesmire in the racestands area, all wired in. Italians I think mainly. They were a quiet lot of small men who stood and watched us kids and would try and talk to us. There was no animosity. Eventually they were let out to walk the streets and often said hello to people. I think they were just glad to be out of the war.

We also got the wounded Canadians who were camped near York awaiting shipping home. We befriended three of them – Gerry, Ray and another one whose name I can’t remember. Despite rations mum and dad gave them supper and we all sat and talked, before they went off back to their camp. They talked of their homes and families usually.

We walked the Shambles, Stonegate with its little alleyways. We stood outside Bettys wanting so much be able to go in and eat, with no luck! My uncle and his airforce friends went down into Bettys dive! I believe they have the mementos on the wall to this day.

Throughout it all the people of York went about their daily business. My mum and dad always kissed us when we left home for school or outings. In case we didn’t see each other again.”

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