It Was Hitler’s Fault

By Eric Streeton.

Over the years in conversation with friends and acquaintances some had been surprised to learn that I was born in Rye. How come then Eric? Was the usual comment, I thought you were a Winchelsea man. Well it’s like this, it was Hitler’s fault. During the Second World War my Mother, Father, and Sister Pauline’s home was in Winchelsea, at No 4 Salutation Cottages in Castle Street. On the 13th of January 1943 a German plane passed over the town and dropped two bombs. One for some reason allegedly bounced and finished up in the Tan yard, but the other one exploded on the cross roads of Mill Road and Castle Street. The blast sent a cloud of debris along the rest of Castle Street, andSt Thomas Street shaking plaster from the School ceiling, and just reaching Friars Road. One youngster picked up a lump of shrapnel for a souvenir, and then received a reprimand for taking it to school with him. Another family living in North Street had their breakfast ruined when glass was blown through the kitchen window while porridge was still on the stove. The time was approximately 8.50 am. Castle Cottage, The Post Office. Five Chimneys, Boundary House and the Salutation Cottages were the worst affected. Number 4 Salutation Cottage, was no more. On the casualty list of that day was my Mother and my Sister Pauline. My Sister was just about six weeks past her second birthday; both were buried in the rubble. The reason they were able to find them with comparative ease was my Sisters screams could be heard for miles. According to one old lady, my mother was toasted Hero of the day for her selflessness when she was heard to say to their rescuers, don’t worry about me, please save my child. (This would have been typical of Mother) Mother was taken to Rye Hospital with her injuries but I have no documented evidence of this, but I do have a first hand account of Mother being in Hospital. A chance meeting and conversation one day with a local Rye woman bought another tale to light. As a five year old she was machine gunned by a German plane as she was crossing the school play ground in Ferry Road, on the 15th of January and taken to Rye Hospital. She told me how the older women had looked after her, and that it was my Mother who had taught her to play whist. I do know that Mother was re admitted to Hospital again in November, I still have in my possession her release papers from that spell in Hospital. Father was still over seas in the Army and powerless to help. Mother and Pauline moved into temporary accommodation above the Queens Head in the Landgate and from there down to number two Western Place over the Sluice with Grandma Streeton. Very soon they were on the move again, this time to Ferry Road, at number eight, in a flat over the Butchers Shop, and it was while living there that I was born.

Bomb Damage at Winchelsea
Bomb Damage at Winchelsea

Up until my Mothers death in 1964, it was not uncommon for her to pick shards of glass from off her body; it was quite common place to see Mother with her leg up on a chair in front of her self picking glass from it. Many times I watched my Father picking glass from her scalp.

Lily Streeton
Lily Streeton

I have always felt that with so much glass in her body for all this time it must have contributed to the Cancer that finally ended her life aged just fifty four.

Earlier on last year I was looking at a B. B. C. Web Site which contained people’s reminiscences of World War Two. Here I found another woman’s account of this day in Winchelsea. She was around the same age as my Sister at this time, and also lived in the Salutation Cottages. (She also had a very interesting story to tell.) So with the help of a local Winchelsea family who had contact with this woman I was able to arrange contact between her and my Sister. If it had not been for that bomb, on that day, it would have been quite probable that they would have become acquainted. So now after sixty four years they have at last become acquainted. (Check her story out on the B.B.C Web site it’s well worth a read. The story can be found by using the following link.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/45/a2050345.shtml)

“Rye’s Own” February 2008

All material and pictures on the Rye’s Own Website are subject to strict Worldwide copyright.

Permanent Home Needed For Millennium Chronicle of Hastings 1066-2000

Ron Nicola’s amazing “Millennium Chronicle of Hastings”, which many readers will have seen exhibited at one of five venues since its completion in time for the 2000 celebrations, is looking for a permanent home. Continue reading Permanent Home Needed For Millennium Chronicle of Hastings 1066-2000

Rye Wurlitzer up and Running

 

“Rye’s Own” January 2008

This photograph sums up the Rye Wurlitzer  year perfectly. No longer is the beautifully restored organ positioned on the rear balcony of the hall where the chairs had to be turned the wrong way round to see it. Continue reading Rye Wurlitzer up and Running

Sprocket Page-Wheelers Dine

 

It was great to be ‘down by the Riverside’ with the Rye & District Wheelers on Thursday 8 November. Continue reading Sprocket Page-Wheelers Dine

Words & Pictures by Frank Palmer

 

This year is the 150th anniversary of the ‘Alpine Club’ the worlds first mountaineering club. Today there are such clubs in many countries of the world.

Interest in mountains first started for Scientific reasons with Mont
Blanc the highest point of the European Alps at 15.780 ft. which was first climbed in 1786, after a number of failed attempts. Such expeditions were few and far apart, by 1825 only 17 parties had reached the summit. This 17th ascent is of interest to Rye in that it was undertaken by Dr. Edmund Clark, who was born in Rye in 1798, he was joined by a Captain Markham Sherwill for the climb, which was some 32 years before the foundation of the Alpine Club. Continue reading Words & Pictures by Frank Palmer

Rye Bonfire

Rye Bonfire Society have had their ups and downs over the years. This feature looks at the good and bad times, successes and failures since the War. Continue reading Rye Bonfire