The Advertiser (Adelaide), Saturday 18 January 1941
If Only Hitler Could Read This Girl’s Letter
THIS letter was written by Daphne Bayliss, who lives in the village of Ewell, Surrey, on the outskirts of London, to her cousin at Binnum, South Australia. Hundreds of such letters are reaching Australia with every mail, and a few of them have already been published. All hare the same story to tell, but none perhaps has been able to tell it so well. Here is an English girl, not yet eighteen, Who did not set out to Write about the greatness of the English people, or to describe their ordeal, but simply to give a far-off cousin a picture of how she and her family are living through these formidable times.
She runs on, in schoolgirl fashion, interrupted only by the sounding of the sirens, quite unconscious of writing anything out of the ordinary, and yet, because of that, achieving what even gifted writers have failed to achieve. Through her letter shines all those qualities which the world admires so deeply in the people of whom she writes — their endurance and courage and above all, their humour and cheerfulness, which are proof against any adversity. Needless to say, she never dreamed that her letter would be published, and it is given here just as she wrote it.
52 Chadacre Road,
Ewell,
Surrey
Dear Jane —
A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. I don’t suppose that this will reach you until the end of January as I think the letters had to go in September to reach Australia for Christmas. All the same. I hope you will have a peaceful one. at least you won’t be spending it in an air raid shelter as we probably shall!
I expect you are wondering how we are getting on. We are quite all right at the present in spite of continual air raids, and there are such a lot of houses near here it will just be very bad luck if ours happens to be hit. We all wish we were in Australia with you. We have almost forgotten what it is like to go out without wondering if the sirens are going off at any moment, or to be able to go without a gas mask. We have never had to use the horrid things and I don’t suppose we ever shall, but it is best to be prepared, and Hitler might get simply boiling mad with us and decide to give us gas. It must annoy him when he sees we aren’t all panic-stricken. In fact, most people have given up worrying about raids now. If one never went out during one we would hardly go out at all.
We all sleep downstairs now. Mummy, Primrose, Philip and I in our dining-room under the stairs, and Daddy in the front room beside the fireplace. We haven’t got a shelter in the garden like most people because they will be fear-fully cold in the winter and Mummy has a fear of being trapped. The nights are usually worse than the days. Somehow it doesn’t matter even if bombs are dropped in the day time, but at night it would be so horribly dark if we did have to leave the house in a hurry — it would be most unpleasant.
“HOUSE SHOOK”
Last night we heard quite a lot of swishings and once the whole house shook for nearly three minutes. It was very queer feeling the floor quiver and the chair move. We don’t know where the bombs dropped, but there must have been at least six. It is rather hard to tell which are guns and which are bombs, as there are lots of guns all round us. Some of them make the most extraordinary noises, too.
About a fortnight ago we had a very bad raid when a road at the foot of ours was almost completely demolished. We heard the bombs screaming over the house and several times thought that we had been hit. Once the Wardens thought that we had got a time bomb In the garden, and Mummy grabbed all her things in case we had to get out. We had a lot of plaster down and some of the floor boards to the children’s room were torn up. Our hall light was broken, too. We were very lucky, though, because our house is further back from the road than most and so it is sheltered by the houses on either side.
Nearly all the houses had their lights broken (the third siren this morning is just going and it is only half-past eleven), and a lot had their doors blown open. In the road that was hit there are about thirty houses and every one is uninhabitable. We could hear the people calling for help, and we could see a tremendous cloud of smoke going up.
“IT WAS BEASTLY”
A few nights later some incendiary bombs were dropped in the next road and they set six houses on fire. We went into the garden and heard the flames crackling. It was beastly. The whole place was lit up for miles, and about three hours later some more planes came over and dropped some oil bombs in the same place. The oil bombs are very smelly and they do an awful lot of damage even if they don’t start a fire because the oil gets all over the road and. if it is a house, all over the furniture and simply ruins it.
There has been quite a lot of damage done to other parts of Ewell. too. Why they drop the bombs here we can’t think unless they are trying for the railway lines, and if they are they are jolly rotten shots.
We have a big park at the end of the garden and it is a lovely place. There is a big house in the middle which Henry VIII built for Anne Boleyn. I expect I shall … I was going to ; say I expect I shall have to dive under the stairs in a moment, for the planes seem to be very near, but I dived before I could type it. There were several terrific crashes and Daddy saw a cloud of smoke going up across the way, everything shook and some of the pictures have gone crooked, so I suppose they were bombs.
To go back to the park. Before the war we used to go for picnics there, now it has been dug up so that Nazi planes can’t land. Wherever you go there are trenches and huge heaps of earth, and there are craters there, too. Up to Friday 14 bombs had been dropped there. It was a good job they were there and not on us. It has spoiled the park though. At night there are Home Guard men patrolling it armed with rifles and most dangerous looking bayonets. I feel rather sorry for the Nazi who is silly enough to land there!
The London parks have been dug up, and there are barrage balloons and A.A. guns there, too. A little while ago we counted 89 balloons from our back garden. They look like silver sausages floating around. Sometimes they break loose, and then a plane goes after it and tries to shoot it down.
“IT WAS A JERRY”
The other evening we had just finished tea when we heard gunfire in the distance. We went into the garden and saw a plane in the distance. It was a Jerry, and there was a thick line of black smoke coming from it. We could see the A.A. shells breaking round it, and we watched it out of sight.
In a few minutes some Spitfires came up and went off to look for it. After a bit we saw the plane again. Heaps of people were on the road yelling instructions to the guns, which must have been about five miles away! I’m sure we could have brought it down quicker than they did! We didn’t see it come down, but we heard later that it did. We see quite a lot of dogfights over us. Once we saw a plane coming down in flames and then we saw two little parachutes sailing down to earth.
A little while ago I had been to the pictures and was waiting for my bus to come when there was a peculiar noise. The All Clear had just gone after quite a noisy raid, and there were heaps of people about. A German fighter plane came into view above the houses at the far end of the town and then it came diving down. A Canadian who was standing in the road shrieked out, “Lie down!” and half the people flopped on to their tummies where they stood. The other half, including me, leapt into the nearest doorway. I had no idea that I could jump so far! I could hear the machine-guns going, but it was gone in a second and two Spitfires were after it. No one was killed and no one was badly hurt. I can do without so much excitement, though.
“SCREAMING DOWN”
This morning the All Clear went at ten past seven and the next siren at ten to eight. I was on my way to church then, but although there was quite a lot of gunfire in the distance no one worried much. The All Clear hadn’t gone when we came out, but there was no sound at all on the way home except for a few planes. We had breakfast the same as usual and I was in the middle of a large and very marmalady slice of toast when there was a terrific crash right outside the window.
We flew into the other room, and as we went we could hear the bombs screaming down. None of them fell in the road, although we thought each one was going to hit us. The windows in the dining-room bent outwards like a bow, and then came back with a twangy noise. They are quite all right, though. We think that it was a plane that was being chased by some of ours, and just chucked his bombs over. He might have chucked them somewhere else! We like our breakfast in peace! The All Clear went at 10 o’clock. The second siren went at 20 past 10, and the All Clear at 11 The third All Clear is just going, and it is 12.15. I suppose we shall get at least three more before dark.
Now that the evenings are getting dark so early, the evening siren goes before 7. We have to black-out just before 6 now, and last night the siren went at 25 past 6. Mummy won’t let us have the wireless on except for the news, because she likes to hear what is happening. The evenings are most gloomy as a consequence, and no one ever comes now for the barrage starts almost at once.
“LOTS OF SOLDIERS”
We have lots of Canadian soldiers here. As their battle dress is just the same as our own soldiers, they have “Canada” written on their shoulder straps. We often see Australian and New Zealand men here too, but they seem to be the ones who have friends here, and I think we see the same ones each time, because we never see them marching like we do the Canadians. We never see their lorries either. The Canadian ones have big maple leaves on the mudguards. They scrawl remarks, usually rude ones, across the windscreens, too.
When we go into Epsom or any of the other bigger towns we see lots of soldiers. Here we only see the ones who are coming home on leave, and who are visiting their people. We see more R.A.F. chaps than anyone, though, and sometimes we see sailors. They look funny without anything on the band of their caps. Most of them have just a plain H.M.S. Some have H.M.S. Minesweeper or H.M.S. Submarine. If you or uncle know any of the Australians who have come to England, we would always welcome them here. We seem to have plenty of tea. in spite of rationing, and if they don’t know anyone, they might care to come.
I want to join the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force. I shall be 18 in April, and I don’t see why I shouldn’t. Mummy says that I mustn’t. She thinks I shall be much better in an ordinary job, which I wouldn’t lose at the end of the war, if it ever ends. It doesn’t seem like doing so at the moment.
This is four hours later. I had to get lunch and then I did some knitting. 1 want to make gloves for my friends, but I never do much because, once I get hold of a book. I forget about everything else. I love reading, and I have got over two hundred books of my own. It will be awful if they get bombed! We have had two more raids since lunch. and I think that the siren will go off any minute now. There are lots of planes about, and that generally means that we shall get one. It is a perfect day, from the German point of view. It is dull and misty and very cold. We have a huge fire, and Mummy very cheerfully says it will have to get much colder before it gets any warmer. Nothing like being cheerful!
I go to a secretarial college now. All last winter I went to evening classes. Ever since the spring I have had to be at home, as Mummy was ill. It was fun running the house, but an awful bother with rationing. We get quite a lot, but I keep on forgetting; and, once you use the ration up, you have to wait till next week. The only thing we have really had trouble in getting is golden treacle. We haven’t had any since the war began, and so we can’t have suet pudding and treacle. We have some funny kinds of eggs though. There has been a shortage and we have been rationed. The other day Mummy bought some and they had Hungarian on them. We wondered how old they were. We are getting quite used to having Chile or Uruguay on them. We get quite a lot of South African ones and Canadian ones, but they sound better than Hungarian!
I go each day to my classes. Because of the raids the education authorities wouldn’t allow more than twenty people to go at a time, so we go one week in the mornings from 8.45 to 12.43 and then the next week in the afternoons from 2 o’clock till 5 o’clock. The week after next we are going to stay all day for the shelters have been made bigger. Then we will go from 9.30 till 1230 and from 2 to 4. We do shorthand and typing and spelling. My spelling is simply dreadful. I never could spell at school and it hasn’t improved since! I think I shall be going for a job in the New Year.
“NO WATER”
Last Saturday the wardens came at half-past six and told us that the gas was going to be cut off from midnight until midday Monday. We have gas for cooking and we haven’t got any other way to cook, so we had to boil the kettles and cook the potatoes on the fire, and it was hopeless trying to cook the bacon for breakfast.
Today a water main was hit when the bombs dropped this morning and the wardens came just after lunch and said that water would be cut off indefinitely. We have filled the bath and all the kettles saucepans and jars but if it is off for long we shan’t know what to do. No one anywhere will have any water. Last winter all the pipes round here froze up and burst. We were the only people in the road whose pipes were all right, and all day we had a procession of people coming for water, but now we are all in the same hole. Well, we do see life.
Philip will be pleased too we won’t always be pulling him off to the bathroom to be washed! We might be worse off too. Auntie Lil hasn’t had any gas in her flat for over six weeks and she depends on gas for everything. She has no coal fires and she can’t, oven make a cup of tea, so she just went away.
“QUITE A MESS”
London is in quite a mess. This time last year I went up with Daddy and I bought a new winter coat. I got it at a very big shop called John Lewis. Now John Lewis isn’t there except for four walls which are in danger of falling into the street. Lots of other shops in Oxford street and Bond street and Regent street have been hit, St. Pauls Cathedral looks horrible from the inside. There is a big hole In the roof and where the Altar stood there is a heap of stones.
Considering how big London is they haven’t done an awful lot of damage, not half as much as we must be doing to their buildings in their precious cities. Even Buckingham Palace looks rather a mess, although it has been cleared up now. I jolly well hope we are blowing Hitler’s home sky high. I expect he spends an awful lot or time in his air raid shelter.
Philip is perfectly sweet, but he nearly drives us silly. He’s the naughtiest and most disobedient child that was ever born. (The sirens are going again) The other day he broke one of our windows by banging it with the handle of Primrose’s skipping rope. We have had to stick a piece of paper over it for there have been so many windows broken no one can get any glass to mend them with. He is beginning to talk properly now. He was so slow at talking we were afraid he would never begin. Now he never stops. Most of his conversation is about guns and bangs and bad planes. He always knows the sirens and he hates them. At first he screamed whenever it went. He hated being brought in from the garden and being put into his pram. Now he has got used to it.
“PEACEFUL EVENING”
Monday Morning: — I couldn’t finish this yesterday, because I had to go to the post for Mummy, and when I got back it was tea-time. By the time we had blacked-out and got the children to bed the siren had gone, and that was the end of all our peace for the night. It was one of the loudest nights we have had for a very long time. Once we heard a screaming bomb. It sounded like about 20 express trains going into a tunnel, and about 30 people having hysterics. We all dived on to the floor, and Mummy went under the table. The explosion was tremendous. We think that several bombs dropped in the park, and on the main road. We heard people running, and someone said that he was knocked down. Later we heard people knocking glass out of the windows. All our lights were broken, and the kitchen windows were blown open. We spent most of the evening under the stairs and the table. Hardly a peaceful Sunday evening! Still, we are still here, and so is the house.
This letter has been typed in installments. I’ve got to go and make a date pudding now. Later.—The pudding has been made, and Mummy has gone to see if there is any damage to be found. Primrose has found two of our tiles in the garden and a lot more have been chipped.
“QUEER CHRISTMAS”
Christmas will be very queer this year. None of the aunts will come because it will be dark by 4 and they, won’t be able to get home again, and there is no room here for them to stay the night. We shall be able to have an iced Christmas cake, though. Mummy has got some icing sugar saved up, and we shall use that, as we can’t spare our sugar ration to buy icing sugar. We shall have to have plain birthday cakes instead of iced ones to make up for it. I don’t expect that we shall have a turkey either as they will be awfully expensive.
I go to the pictures quite a lot. We have several cinemas quite near. It must be strange to live a long way away from even shops. I don’t think that there is anywhere in England where you can get very far away from shops and cinemas. Even in Cornwall the tiny villages seem to have their own cinemas. Ewell is called a village, and when we came here it really was one. Now there are rows of houses where we used to go for walks. The little old shops have been pulled down and big new ones built. Last Saturday a bomb dropped on a row of old cottages which were built in 1723. They will all have to be pulled down, and, I suppose they will build horrid new red ones in their place.
Dad’s office was dive-bombed on Friday. They never had any warning, and none of them were in the shelters. They just flung themselves on to the floor and hoped for the best. He is getting very good at flinging himself down. One day last, week we were standing in the garden watching the tracer bullets in the sky. The planes were dropping flares, too. and there was a huge fire over towards London way. Everything was quiet when we heard a plane dive down. The next thing we heard was the scream of the bomb. We just collapsed where we stood on the concrete. It was jolly hard and awfully cold. I grazed my hands and ruined my stockings. The bomb fell in the park, and we could feel the earth shaking! We are not so keen to go out and see the tracer bullets now!
“CAN’T COME”
Uncle Dudley is in the R.A.F. now. and has gone overseas. That might be anywhere from Canada to Palestine or Aden to Australia. We had a letter written from him. “Somewhere at sea.” but that doesn’t say much. Perhaps he’ll land up in Australia and see you. I wish Uncle Dennis would join the Navy or the RA.F., and come over here, it seems to be the only way that we shall see any of you. Even if Daddy and I could get exit permits to come to Australia to you we wouldn’t like to come now with the possibility of being torpedoed on the way. Mummy couldn’t go alone with the babies, and Daddy and I can’t come because we are too old!
I had better wish you many happy returns, as well as a Merry Christmas. If this letter ever gets to you without being censored or lost on the way, it won’t arrive for months.
I hope you stay all right and don’t get blown up by anyone. You’ll have a warm Christmas anyway. We are all sitting freezing now in our warmest clothes. It has got cold very early this year. Give my love to Auntie, Uncle, Timothy and Richard.
Lots of love and a Merry Christmas, from.
Daphne
P.S.—We have a 90-gallon water barrel in the garden which everyone forgot about, so we gave Primrose and Philip baths last night. They were furious! They thought they were going to get out of them for once.
P.P.S.—This seems to be all air raids and nothing else.
Bomb Damage in Waterloo Road Epsom
Image courtesy of Bourne Hall Museum
Baylis Family Background
Firstly the newspaper got the surname slightly wrong – it should have been Baylis rather than Bayliss.
Daphne’s father was Roderick Llewellyn Baylis, originally from Essex (born 1887). He was a 2nd Lieutenant in the Indian Defence Force (a part-time unit, formed in 1917 to release regulars and conscripts for WW1) but his main job was probably as a banker.
Roderick married Dorothy Phyllis Baylis (born 1900) in 1921 in England. It seems that Daphne, who was Daphne Sibyl (sic) Lorimer Baylis, was born at a military cantonment in India on 20 April 1923. The family returned to England in 1926 and on the incoming passenger list Roderick was listed as a banker. The Primrose mentioned is Dorothea Primrose Mary, born 1933 Essex. She married Charles Wickham-Jones in 1954 and died in 2006. We believe Philip was David P R Baylis, born 1938.
In the 1939 Register the family are at 52 Chadacre Road, Stoneleigh and Roderick was described as Office and Sales Manager in a sheet engineering works. and also worked as an air raid warden.
Shortly after Daphne wrote the letter to her Australian relatives her father, Roderick, died and was buried in Epsom Cemetery (M470) on 18 Sep 1941. Her mother, Dorothy, died aged 46 five years later and was buried with her husband in grave M470 on 21 Dec 1946.
Daphne married Derek Michael Hewitt in 1949 – he and his parents are on the electoral register for 1949 at 27 Chadacre Road. He was a bit younger than her, born in 1927 in the Bromley district. The Hewitts lived in Beckenham in 1939, so presumably moved to Stoneleigh during or just after the war. Derek’s father, Charles, was, in 1939, Chief Purchasing Officer and Store Superintendent to a gas engineering combine.
After their marriage Derek and Daphne moved away to the Lambeth/Norwood area where they had four children. Derek died in 1993 in the Lewes district , followed by Daphne on 5 Feb 2011 (also Lewes district).
Extract from the WW2 bomb map
ADDENDUM
Hazel Ballan writes:
I did a bit of searching and found that the Australian relatives were Aunt Esther Lenn Baylis, nee Legre, and Uncle Denis Gordon Baylis. Denis and Dorothy (Daphne’s mother), were siblings.
Denis and Esther returned to Australia, Esther’s birthland, shortly after they married in 1926 in London. Aunt Esther was an interesting lady and a short bio can be read here http://www.siep.org.au/General/Adelaide_Photographic_Society_History.html . Strangely it only mentions she had two sons and nothing about Jane. I then found the attached obituary for Denis in The Age newspaper but I can’t read Jane’s married name. From the article it would seem her husband’s first name was Arthur but can’t find a marriage without that surname.
I found Timothy Gordon Baylis, born 1931 and who married Rosemary de Crespigny, but found nothing about brother Richard marrying a Margaret.