Wilf Zaples account of the air raid on Torquay May 1943

It was Sunday 30th May 1943, I was sixteen years of age and at home in Westhill Road with my parents. My two youngest sisters Sheila aged 5 or 6 & Pam aged 9 were at Sunday School at St Marychurch.

Suddenly the air raid sirens started followed as usual by the sound of bombs dropping and machine-gun fire. My parents and myself dived for the Morrison shelter which was in the form of a table. With hearts thumping we waited for the air raid to cease.

The noise stopped and the all clear sounded and we went to the front door to see any damage. It was immediately apparent something had happened to the church at St Marychurch because we could no longer see the tower and overall was a cloud of dust.

It was decided at once that I should go and find out what the situation was. I walked up Westhill Road, ran is a better word, and at the junction of Chatto Rd and Barewell it was obvious that the church had been badly damaged. I hurried down Barewell Rd and up the hill to the church meeting on the way parents carrying or leading children away. I saw a postman I knew and he looked stunned, it appears that his son had been killed. Both myself and my father worked for the Post Office and it really struck home.

Getting to the top of the hill I turned into the church car park which was full of RAF personnel lifting beams & stones from the inside of the church. The RAF men came from the hotels on Babbacombe Down where they were training to be air crews. I don't know where they came from but suddenly my two sisters Pam & Sheila were with me covered in dust and crying. I carried Sheila and holding Pams hand we set off for home consoling my sisters as we went. Pam loved to play cowboys and I kept saying "Come on Pam, don't cry, be a cowboy".

As a family we were very lucky because the very young children were lining up to go across from the hall to the main church. Those children in the church were told by the teachers to get down between the pews and this certainly saved the life of my sister Pam. As it was, about twenty children and three teachers were killed. After taking my sisters home I went to the Teignmouth Road where the German plane had crashed. The pilot had been killed and he was wrapped in his parachute. The plane had crashed on the roof of a house, next door was a friend of my eldest sister Violet who was in bed just having had a baby; the friend not Violet, what an experience.

It was said at the time that the German plane, which was a Focke Wulf, bombed the church on purpose but I don't think this was the case. The plane was hit by a machine gun fired from the roof of one of the hotels on Babbacombe Downs, caught fire and started to lose height. It hit the spire of the Catholic church and this either dislodged the bomb or the pilot released it knowing he was going to crash. About 20 German planes attacked Torquay that day and five were shot down. It appears that because of the high losses they did not try any more hit-and-run raids on Torquay.

As a footnote, one of the airmen helping on the bomb site hung his jacket up and someone stole his wallet. What a shameful thing to do.

Wilf Zaple Aug 2009

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