Luftwaffe | Helen Glynn Jones

Yes, I am still doing the 30 Day Blog Challenge, but it’s Wednesday, and I always go for a Wander on Wednesday. Today’s prompt was: Very Loud. I thought about places I’d been that were loud – rock festivals, waterfalls, train stations, airports. Then the phrase ‘louder than bombs’ came into my head, and I knew where I wanted to wander.

So this week we are heading to a place I know fairly well. This is the ruined cathedral of St Michael, in Coventry, England.

Built in the late 14th/early 15th century, St Michael’s was the largest parish church in England until 1918, when it was elevated to cathedral status. However, on the evening of November 14, 1940, the city centre of Coventry was almost destroyed by a ferocious bombing campaign, courtesy of the Luftwaffe. One of the casualties was the cathedral, a direct hit burning the roof and interior away, leaving only the walls standing.

On the day after the destruction of the cathedral, the cathedral stonemason, Jock Forbes, found two charred roof beams lying in the shape of a cross. He tied them together, and they were placed on the altar. The provost, Richard Howard, had the words ‘Father Forgive’ engraved into the wall behind. Howard was also responsible for the Cross of Nails, made from two of the medieval roof truss nails – there are now 160 such crosses made from the roof nails across the world, including one donated to Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church in Berlin. Like St Michael’s, it was also destroyed in a bombing raid, the ruins of the old building preserved next to the new.

In 1950 a competition was announced to design a new cathedral. The winning design was by Basil Spence (later Sir), who insisted that the ruins of the old cathedral be preserved as a garden of remembrance, joined to the new building. Nowadays it is a popular place with visitors, and has appeared in several movies, including Nativity. It still remains hallowed ground. Recent excavations have uncovered a crypt, as well as exposing burned timbers – when I was there recently you could still smell the ash, an eerie reminder of a night seventy-six years ago.

Death has now taken many of the survivors of the war, their voices silenced, one by one. So the charred cross and simple message of the cathedral are powerful reminders of a night when bombs fell, yet spirit remained. Louder than bombs, indeed.

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These two lovely doors are both from the church of All-Hallows-By-The-Tower, in London, England. The church was founded in 675AD, making it one of the oldest Christian churches in London, and parts of the original building are still visible inside. Standing outside, if you look one way you see the Tower of London;

And if you look the other way, you see the ‘Walkie-Talkie-, one of the newest buildings in the city.

If there was ever a building that could be said to encompass the history of a place, then All-Hallows-By-The-Tower is it. Built on the site of an earlier Roman building, you can go down into the original crypt and walk on tiles laid almost 2000 years ago. You can see a Saxon arch made using Roman roof tiles, and interior walls still blackened by a direct hit from the Luftwaffe during the Second World War, which reduced much of the building to a shell. Beheaded victims from the nearby Tower of London were sent to All Hallows for temporary burial, before heading to their final place of rest and the church tower, built in 1658, was the place where Samuel Pepys, the famous diarist, watched London burn during the Great Fire of 1666, the church itself only narrowly escaping destruction in the flames. Truly it is a building that spans millennia – if only the walls could talk.