Dartmouth Chronicle Friday September 21^st 2001

Castle Cove during the Second World War

The current agitation to reopen the footpath to Castle Cove at Dartmouth has led Walter Fleet, of the Dartmouth History Research Group, to write his memories of the area during the Second World War when he was a boy.

Present concerns over the future of Castle Cove and access to our traditional swimming and sunbathing area set me thinking about my memories of this part of Dartmouth, in particular the period shortly before and during the Second World War.

In 1935 my grandfather, George Gunnell, bought one of the tea huts at Blackpool Sands from a Miss Blair. At that time there were two, the other owned by Mesneys. It was during this time, at Blackpool that the film Wonderful Life was made.

He sold the business in 1937‑8 (possibly to the Newman family) and became the proprietor of the Castle Tea Rooms at first in the Battery but later included the the Old Lighthouse.

The upper area of the Battery nearest to the river was the kitchen, which had a small service lift for taking food and dishes to the gun room below, where the customers dined.

As a small boy I would sometimes be hoisted up and down in this lift.

When the weather was good, as it always seemed to be in those days, tables and chairs were set out on the lawn area in font of the Battery, with access through the gun ports.

Pigeons were a feature in those days. nesting in recesses in the curtain wall at the rear of the square, and my grandfather sold bags of corn to feed them.

George and Selina Gunnell outside the Castle Tea Rooms around 1938/39

When war was declared in 1939 the castle area became an artillery camp once more. Soldiers were housed in the Battery and in huts that were erected along the Compass Road and behind the curtain wall and mound. Another was erected on a flat area created nearby. Even the two lean‑to shelters either side of the curtain wall were closed in to create more accommodation. The cookhouse and mess were at the entrance to the square opposite the toilets.

The castle became the NCO quarters while the officers moved into the Gunfield Hotel.

Initially the main armament was a heavy gun in what is now the English Heritage ticket office. A second gun was on the flat grass area to the left as you walk down the path to sugary Cove. This has an extensive underground ammunition store with access through the gun turret and via an external door. I imagine this is still in existence under the grass, as it would require a lot of hard work to break up.

Below this gun on an isolated rock connected to the lawn area by a wooden foot bridge was what I thought was a third gun but I now think was more likely to have been a searchlight. As far as I can recall all three were of the same type.

In among the trees above Sugary Cove were numerous other huts and storage areas.

Later in the war, during the build‑up to D-day invasion, rocket batteries were added. some up by the former coastguard cottages, with others close to the sailing hut down at Compass Point. There were yet more huts in the scrub thicket behind these.

On the outbreak of war my grandfather, a former Yeoman of Signals in the Navy, was sent back to sea on the armed merchant cruiser, the Laurentic. and my grandmother continued to run the Old Lighthouse part of the tea rooms as an unofficial NAFFI for the soldiers.

This was also where she lived and where, at weekend and school holidays, she, my brother and I two cousins, my mother and aunt. plus my grandfather when on leave all slept and lived in three rooms. Except on days when the Brigadier or other big noise was expected we had free run of the area, which included the beach and part of Gallants Bower ‑ then used for training by the soldiers.

Sometimes we would sneak into the mess and share their food, or into the showers, which were a favourite of ours and quite a novelty. Also they were somewhere our mother couldn't reach us at bedtime!

One night, after we had all gone to bed, there was a soft knocking on the front door. My mother opened it to find one of the soldier who had against orders, come to tell us that there was a possibility of an invasion by the Germans, all the soldiers were packing their equipment and preparing to move out. We were got out of bed and made ready to follow them into town.

During the winter of 1940 the Laurentic was sunk off Iceland by a submarine and my grandfather was subsequently posted to the Plymouth Breakwater this meant he was able to get home more often.

Before the war he had bought a caravan, which was parked on the road to the church at the top of the path to Stumpy Steps. To ease the pressure on the limited space in the house my brother and I would often sleep there in the summer. Just on the seaward side of the steps was the spot where the shore end of the harbour boom was moored by a cable around a rock outcrop. The boom was made from large bulks of timber enclosed in a steel cage with Large spikes on it, it was joined to the next by heavy chains ‑ they were just too far apart for us to jump and so try to cross to Kingswear!

Life at the castle became even more interesting when Gramps was home. Navy ships would frequently come into the mouth of the river to signal to the college, and he would tell us what they were saying. On more than one occasion he would stop, and when prompted to continue would say >No, it's not for you.' I often wonder what was in those messages.

During these periods he taught a number of soldiers to become proficient at signalling, and many of them transferred to the navy as signallers.

Christmas time was always an exciting occasion. We boys were allowed to stay up a little later and join in the first few games of 'Housey Housey' with the soldiers. Somehow we always seemed to win something.

On Christmas Day Father Christmas always found time to call, albeit with a different accent each year! Christmas pudding came complete with silver coins. We could never understand why we found threepenny bits, while Gramps produced two shillings or half a crown, usually from out of his ear or nose after nearly choking on it.

Many of the soldiers had families of their own at home and we children became surrogate families to some of them. One in particular had two sons about the same age as my brother and I, and it was him, I believe, who taught us to swim in Castle Cove.

A view of Castle Cove, taken in about 1949 – a favourite place to swim

When the war ended and the time came for the soldiers to depart, it was with mixed feelings. Many had become very good friends of my grandparents. On numerous occasions afterwards my mother and aunt would talk about those times and the soldiers they came know.

On one such occasion they made a List of the names they could remember. I still have that List with over 100 names on it. I wonder if any of them are still around, and ever visit the town?