WATKINS, Alan Edward - Born 21-Jan-1928 - Died 25-May-2011

WATKINS, Alan Edward - Born 21-Jan-1928 - Died 25-May-2011 

Alan Edward WATKINS

Born 21-Jan-1928 - Died 25-May-2011

Son of

Jim and Daisy Watkins
Younger Brother to

Kenneth Loraine and Desmond John

who have pre-deceased him.

Alan leaves

His Wife of 59 years, Brenda
&

Their Son Simon

The Eulogy Delivered by Simon Watkins

at

The Funeral of Alan Watkins on 10-June-2011

 

My Father was born in Pontypridd, South Wales, on the 21^st January 1928, and moved to Yate in Gloucestershire, at the age of 2. He attended school at Chipping-Sodbury Grammar, where he met my Mother who he was destined to marry 7 years later.

At 18 he left school and with National Service to complete attended Army Officer Training at Aldershot, getting his pip at 21. 

In 1950 at 22, when both his brothers were working on Bahrain, Des running his own business marketing pumps and Ken working for BAPCo. at an oil facility on the island, he joined them, and worked there for 13 years. During that time he came back to England to marry my Mother, Brenda Corbett on 23-February-1952, and take her back with him to Bahrain. 

Ken & his wife Marjory (nee Dando)

Once my Mother was there, making Father more palatable, they met and became lifetime fast friends with Bob and Elizabeth Turnbull.

On returning to England in 1963, my Father and Mother, together with Bob and Elizabeth, started a hairdressing business in Darnley Road in Gravesend. Ultimately, in the economy and timing, the business proved unsustainable and the four pursued different careers.

My Father started at Barclay’s in 1968; where he worked for the next 35 years at a London branch, as head of the foreign department; until his retirement 18 years ago in 1993.

My Father enjoyed his retirement. He was able to spend more time with friends and family, and also to take up golf, which I know brought him both joy and frustration, although I can't say in what ratio.

He had a deep interest in the classics. He could quote at length from poems and plays alike. He also enjoyed many classical composers, and I remember he would listen to them at length in the evening to “decompress” from life in London. His taste in music was not limited to the conventional classics; he enjoyed jazz and blues and had a collection with many of the greats.

My Father did not make friends easily, although the ones he did have lasted all his life. My Father was strongly loyal to both friends and family, and I believe he would have done anything had they called upon him in need. I think this can best be exemplified when my Grand Mother, Mabel Gill, was unable to live alone and in 1969 Father took her into our home. With the exception of holidays to other family members, Mabel lived with us until her death in 1994. I think you would all agree, not many men would have housed their Mother-in-Law for 25 years.

For recreation I know that above all things he enjoyed debate. Usually taking a devils-advocate position in what would first appear to be an indefensible argument. The more contentious and provocative the better. A particular favorite was that “there was no such thing as altruism”. That at the bottom of all human actions was self interest in one form or another.

This was symptomatic of an underlying cynicism that I think he was not always at ease with! 

He did however recognize this, and once confided in me “It's unfortunate that I am a pessimist and yet still get disappointed when the worst happens, ... seems rather self-defeating”. 

However, perhaps as some of the best humor is the darkest, it did make him bloody funny.

My Father was extremely athletic. He was Games Captain at school and set many track and field records. In fact, when my Mother and Father were invited back for an alumni dinner 12 years later, my Mother noted that one of his records was still standing, an impressive record in the long-jump, it would be interesting to see when that particular record fell. 

He was highly competitive and did very well at almost any sport he tried.

Ultimately he was the most formative influence in my life. The debate made me think. The humor helped me with friends and colleagues, and the cynicism prepared me for the world. 

I'm sure my Mother can correct me, although I think it was somewhere between the ages of 2 and 3 when I first learned the expression “whoever told you life was going to be fair?”.

Although never effusive, I know he loved me very much. 

In my early adulthood, I took to riding motorcycles. I loved riding them, I just wasn't very good at it! Not being a parent myself, I can't imagine what this did to my folks each time I went out. However, when I came to buy my first large motorcycle, I was unable to arrange the necessary finances, that was until he came with me and underwrote the loan – putting aside his fears for my love of riding.

Not always the most patient of men, he was when it counted. 

He taught me to drive and he did so without a raised word or an angry tone – although there was a certain amount of sarcasm.

He was very forgiving to me. 

On one occasion when I was 15, I was left in the family car in a supermarket car park – with the keys. In the infinite wisdom of youth, I thought I’d turn the car round. 

Events unfolded - - - - badly!

On facing my Father that night, he simply said “are you planning on doing that again?”. 

I replied “no”. 

To which he said “alright, lesson learned”.

He was my Dad. I miss him now and I know I always will.

1941-02-27 YATE – PARNALLS - BOMBING OF

1941-02-27 YATE – PARNALLS - BOMBING OF

By: Des WATKINS

You will note that the letter has had the address removed by censors and also various words are redacted


14, Eggshill Lane,
Yate,
Nr. Bristol,
Gloucestershire,
GB

27th. Feb. 1941


Dear Ken,

Got your letter today, and with reference to the horn of mead old cock, you as near as damn it had a pint awaiting for you. I came within an ace of gracing the outer hall of Valhalla, I’m going to try to give you my impressions, and to tell you just what occurred. For censor’s benefit I’ll state here and now that nowhere in this letter will I make any reference to what Parnalls make or will I speak of production. You mentioned what they made in your letter Ken and got it censored.

It was 2.30 on a Thursday. Joyce, Olive and I and Bill Jenner were all leaning on the heating radiator talking when the sirens blew. We took no notice and just leisurely drew the curtains across the windows (anti blast precautions) suddenly there was an awfull Bop – Bop – Bop – Bop – Bop I bundled the girls under my table and dived in on top of them, Bill shot under his, just as I landed under the table the whole world split into bloody fragments. The floor heaved, the air was thick with glass and bricks, steel cabinets spun in the air like gossamer. My lungs hurt, my face stung as again and again the whole universe


PAGE 2:

Burst into scorching searing bloody madness. My table groaned under the pressure of the steel girders cabinets and debris the sickening stench of cordite filled the atmosphere. I clung around the girls like grim death, not to protect so much as to comfort my own reeling nerves. They were crying and Joyce kept wanting to get out and run, I held her there – Bill called encouragement at the top of his voice.Above the rumble and crash could be heard the scream scream scream of girls.Although I’ve been here only brief seconds a thousand impressions crowd my mind. The girls are whimpering. A man stumbles over the debris, he’s blood from head to foot Jesus its Smith our “Lie down you bloody fool, under the table you daft sod” that Bill shouting. But he took no notice, he bubbled blood and said “Laws is gone (Laws an ) “He’s dead” “Hes dead” “Hes dead” He scrabbled back the way he came – he must have been stunned on his feet.There’s bedlam all around us girls shrieking and men shouting. The main beam has sliced the steel cabinets in two. I feel outside of myself – remote, disinterested.

Bill is getting out, he stands up amid the falling debris, he scrabbles up a pile of loose stuff, an engine roars “He’s coming back for Christ’s sake get back Bill” I yelled it, but I was quite surprised


PAGE 3:

to hear my voice. The air trembled. My back and neck crawled as I waited for the awful thuds and rending crashes of more hell. We waited huddled for the world to split again. I reached out an arm and fished two tin hats under the table. Nothing came.Olive looks numbed, “Frightened” I ask, she nods dumbly.

Bill is getting out again. God what a mess. If those girls outside scream any more I must shout for quiet. They must stop screaming or my ears will burst. – They scream on.

“Quick Watty (that’s me) get ‘em out of there we’rre ablaze” that’s Bill shouting. I kick a wooden cabinet away from the end of the table – we wriggle out. My God the whole of one side is a roaring inferno. The whole building is a smoking shambles.

We scrabbled to the Main entrance or where it used to be. Bill has gone the other way.The girls legs just drag – they’re OK, but knocked silly. They’re big girls but they feel light as dolls, Everyone who can run is scrabbling madly over the mess. I’m not here really of course – that isn’t me walking down there – its – funny feeling as though you’re outside of yourself watching yourself from a distance. My God look at those Cost Office girls, ragged and bloody and powder blackened. They’re in heaps – all bloody and tangled.

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Everyone is helping everyone, carrying, helping guiding. Here a man with bloody legs leans one with a bloody arm.

I can see Jotce and Olive standing shivering on the outside – I must have taken them out and come back in again, because I have a girl in my arms, there’s no muscular effort to carry her, shes a doll, a limp inert doll – but its not sawdust on her legs.

Someone must have taken her from me because I’m running up the tarmac, with the girls on each arm again, now.I went with them to Joyce’s house across the road, then I dashed home, said I was OK then dashed back. In 8 minutes from the first bomb. I was back. By now a delayed action has gone off and killed many would-be rescuers. The factory belches horror, the horror of little girls smoke blackened and crying, the horror of horrible injuries, the horror of faces all pain.

We who are OK take off our coats and wade into them – I take one of our fellows hes got another man’s brains streaming down his face – I wash him and find hes got a damaged arm, and cuts.Help me with “this one” says someone. I bend to lift a stretcher onto a lorry. But “this one” rolls his bandaged head, drums his feet under his blanket and dies. Leave him.

Oblt. Hermann Lohmann + He111 crew 

before bombing raid on Parnall Aircraft

PAGE 5:

A Heinkel IIIK dropped out of the low lying mist – visibility was almost nil. He dropped down 2 minutes after the siren with his canons blazing and dropped 8 bombs five went up and 3 didn’t one was delayed action. I find only the offices have suffered badly. Four 550lb. bombs into a space 150’ by 100’ subdivided by plasterboard walls. Almost a ton of searing, blasting, blinding, all destroying hell.

Not a soul had gone to shelter, they got it as they sat. Pretty little girls, jolly young men. All blood and rags, and dirt. Twenty two young draughtsmen alone, as many girls, making a total all round of 60 dead, and 150 injuries.

The end of the office block is Hawthorne’s (he wasn’t in it) next to it is ours, between it a lathe wall. The first bomb fell plumb on Hawthorne’s girder in the ceiling, turned off and burst in the shops some 20’ away from us, if it had richochetted the other way:---

A bomb fell on Works Orders, a bomb on Costs, one on The Drawing Office, the latter one delayed action. Which means 2 550lbers. Fell 15’ each side of me roughly and 2 within 70 odd feet.Only God knows how we got out alive. If that first one had hit that girder square it would have burst 10’ above our heads with a lathe wall to protect us.If he hadn’t cannoned us we should


PAGE 6:

Not have had time to get under the table, and if we hadn’t been cut to rags with glass, the other debris would have got us for cert.Two of our examiners got killed, 4 injured, besides Hawthorne, at first we thought he was to lose an eye, but now there is hope for it. One examiner got his head and shoulders cut off in our outer office.I could write a book on the miraculous escapes of others besides us, and the awfull injuries of others.How one of our fellows, saw a wall about to crash on him, just as it fell a cistern out of the girls’ lavatory blew over his nut, the bricks peppered on there like a tin hat. Hes in hospital with terrible bruises mind, but if it had hit his head it would have finished him. Hes very annoyed about it, he said he wouldn’t have minded one out of the mens’ bog, but one out of the girls’ he objected to.

The works nurse was dug out of debris after 45 minutes to give wonderful service at the clearing centre.How men refused treatment to severe cuts to enable those in pain to have full attention. How a man said when Bill pushed his handkerchief into a hole in his back – “I’ll see its washed and sent back – “ poor sod.Of mortuaries with pulverised remains.
Of a man beyond recognition but alive.Of the horrible discoveries they made after the fire had abated.


PAGE 7:

How Sarafian (*1) when he got home wept over the casualties.But above it all there lasts longest in my memory those awful moments under the table as the ‘world went bloody mad’. The Swish – Swish as they fell and the reverberating, ear splitting, head bursting, Bash! As they hit. With the rush of hot stifling air that burns the skin and bursts the lungs.

I went to Wick then as we had an office there, I went with Hawthorn, Bill and 2 others to headquarters to the official enquiry. I was officially thanked for getting the girls out, the cool way, the youngest member of staff had proved himself and so on and so forth – Bullshit. I was scared stiff same as the rest and what I did I did automatically and in any case I didn’t do anything – there was a lot of this back slapping mind but the big noise made a damned nuisance of himself over me.. This was at AID HQ. see. Just 2 big noises and we 5. Anyhow he treated us to a wonderful blowout.Well today is Saturday, 9 days ago the big blitz happened. Yesterday – Friday. I was in the exchange at the Canteen, with Tooth an examiner talking to 2 girls on the switchboard when a Red came through. The siren went – first since the blitz. We made to go – the girls leapt up and shut the door – made us stay.

Then the switchboard rang, and a message came through that a man had died of fright in the shelter – he had too, sheer



(*1) Doctor Sarafian’s medical practice was a family practice run entirely by his family from the right hand building at the Yate end of The Plain in Sodbury – he would have known many, if not all, of the victims.


PAGE 8:

Bloody fright – poor devil.

Then came an imminent danger signal, some 10 minutes later bugger me if I wasn’t lying on the floor going through it all again. Two frightened men, two frightened girls huddling in a heap in the corner – 2 telephone fellows came in and got on top of the heap of us as well. BASH. BASH. BASH.The bastards tipped another 8 bombs on us, I was 100yds. Away from it this time, but the terror was just as great. He raked the place with machine guns.Our guns answered – he got away with a piece shot out of his tail.I got up – Tooth and I raced down to the factory – more smoking ruins – 16 casualties, 5 dead. Jumping Jehosophat I’m bloody fed up with this. I was more scared this time – very very aware of my whole cringing (that spelt wrong) body. My hair bristled my guts crawled, and I couldn’t pull myself close enough to Betty – that’s the girl on the switchboard. Not that detatched feeling. Hawthorne and rest weren’t on the building this time only 5 AID. We got down the bottom of the tarmac in time to see the same cortage of mangled souls – smaller scale deaths but agonies to watch.

My nerves were awful last night. Bang Bang Bang, I had my tin hat and was half under the table before I realised it was the woman next


PAGE 9:

Door Knocking at the door.I shall be glad to get in the RAF for some peace. I’m OK today – theres a raid on now, but I don’t fancy his chances today, both times hes been the visibility has been nil.

I’m moving into an office in the end of a wrecked building Monday – all set for the next lot. There’s a sharp corner to go round to get to the shelters from this new office, I’m going to have a steep wooden banking put up, so I can negotiate it without dropping my speed down to less than 275mph. A man selling corks outside of Parnalls would do a brisk trade during air raids. Don’t worry about us Ken. I can take it, the family can take it, and so can Marge, but it is a bit of a bugger waiting for the next packet.

Your loving and thankful to be alive brother,
Des.

ALSO AVAILABLE AT:
GOOGLE DOC.

27 February 1941
This was the most serious, in terms of casualties, that Yate suffered.

At 14:36hrs. a single Heinkel He111 (G1+CC) of II/KG 27 piloted by Oberleutnant Herman Lohman dropped 7 x 250Kg. high explosive bombs on the Parnall factory.

A number of these bombs had delayed action fuses which exploded about 10 minutes after being dropped. These caused the majority of the casualties.

Oblt. Lohman flew over the target from the north and dropped the bombs from around 100 feet. The result of flying so low was that the aircraft was that Yate air defences hit the plane 15 times with their anti-aircraft fire.
Oblt. Lohman limped his Heinkel back to base at Bourges in France on a single engine.

There were 52 people killed in the raid including 3 people who were never identified.

The daed are remembered on a special memorial in St Mary’s Church in Yate. The Memorial was  erected by the Parnall Aircraft Company.

AMOS, Barbara
BARNES, Thomas Arthur
BATTEN, Edward Robert Edgar
BEGERNIE, Maurice Edwin
BOOTH, Maurice Hilary
BRUETON, Albert
BURR, George Alec
BUXTON, Kenneth Reginald
CURTIS, Cyril Frederick Tom
DAMSELL, Edward John Damsell
DAVIES, Edward Geoffrey Heir
DAVIS, William John
DAY, Ivy M.
DOYLE, Edith
DYSON, John Bernard
FRY, Frederick Purse
GUEST, Ronald Thomas
HATHAWAY, Charles Henry Thomas
HATHAWAY, Henry
HOLE, Herbert John
HOWLAND, Norman
HUGHES, Stanley Herbert
HUTCHINSON, Frederick William
JAMES, Ernest N.
JEFFERIES, Percy J.
LAURIE, Frederick Guy Selaurin
LAWLESS, Mary Monica
LAWS, Percy Jack
LUTON, Douglas Daniel Thomas
MILNER, Angus
MOORE, Thomas
MORRIS, James
NEWMAN, Rupert Maitland
ORTON, William James
PARKMAN, Betty Doreen
PHIPPS, Tom
REEVE, Kenneth
REEVES, John William
SHOREY, Douglas
SQUIRES, Robert Colin
STILL, Arthur Albert
TOVEY, Phyllis May
TOWNS, George
TUPIL, Eric
VOWLES, Prudence Pamela
WHITE, Alfred Percival
WHITE, Geoffrey Barton
WILLIAMS, Douglas Lloyd
WRIGHT, Walter James

A more comprehensive list of details of the dead can be found from page 69 onwards at: CLICK HERE


Further details of Parnalls of Yate can be found if you go to:
YATE ONLINE


ALSO:

The Bombing of Parnalls Aircraft Factory of Yate