CHAPTER 1
I was born in St Peters, Broadstairs, in 1934, on the very same street as the former Prime Minister Ted Heath. My family – parents, five boys and one girl – moved along the coast to Ramsgate when I was a small child. It was a very dramatic time for that town. The Battle of Britain raged above our heads and, according to the local library record of that time, the war’s very first German bombing took place over Ramsgate. Prior to that first aerial bombardment, however, the Pendry family witnessed warfare in our back garden in May 1940.
On hearing the air-raid warning for the first time, we scuttled to our newly built Anderson shelter in the garden – not for a moment realising that we were within hours of becoming part of the war’s history. As we waited for the ‘all clear’ siren, we were conscious that there was a great deal of noise and activity outside. Once the siren had signalled the end of the blitz, we emerged from the shelter to see a flurry of activity among the police, air-raid wardens and Home Guards. Clearly something significant had happened while we had been in our shelter. We then discovered that a German airman had landed in the cornfield next to our house after his plane had been shot down. He had sought shelter in a shed at the back of our garden before being apprehended. Many years later I discovered that the airman was from a Luftwaffe reconnaissance aircraft sent over to see the lay of the land before the much heavier bombing that was to follow a month or two later.
My father, Leonard, was a navy man in the First World War and took part in the Battle of Jutland, known at the time as the Battle of Horns Reef, a ferocious duel of naval juggernauts in which the British lost more ships than the Germans but succeeded in bottling up the German fleet. My family has always treasured a letter he sent home, which was published inThe Times, dated 13 June 1916, signed simply ‘a seaman’. It reads:
At last I have a chance to write a few lines just to let you know that I came out of last Wednesday’s memorable and glorious set-to. No mistake, I’ve got what I joined for, and more besides. Of course, being a light cruiser, I don’t suppose you will have heard much about our little squadron, but we were there – right there – and the Germans knew it, too. The same time, it’s a wonder we are here, for the enemy’s battle cruisers are not exactly what we were designed for, but it points at the desperation to get at the enemy at all costs, which is the motive of all our lads in action. Everything worked admirably aboard. Cool and calm was everyone. We are to be considered one of the luckiest ships in the Navy after this, as shells of all calibre were bursting all around us. We were close handy when the –––––––– blew up. It was worded round that it was one of our ships, which redoubled the energy of the lads. It is said we have the blame of a Hun battle cruiser, and furthermore one of those beloved creatures (the Zepp). Of course, the truth will come out eventually, and we shall hear who really killed Cock Robin. Up to now it is the little Yarmouth with her 6 in. aboard her. Anyway, the papers are gradually revealing all. I received letter and cigarettes, which came in very handy … The news of your shift to new quarters comes like another victory. You could not have done better – splendid, in fact. You had best name it Jutland Villa, in commemoration o
