Journal Entry
November 13, 1940
Sloane Square Station hit last night. Thirty-one bodies were got out early this morning. The place is said to be a shambles and is already being referred to as the 'butcher's shop'. A man who was there told me he had gathered up a hand, a head, even a tongue, teeth and brains. All who have seen it are fascinated by a dead girl, hanging head downwards, naked. She is held by the ankles in the wreckage of the escalator. It was, for a long time, impossible to move her for fear of dislodging the great weight of debris onto the rescuers working beneath. Poe himself could have imagined nothing so macabre as this.
I am first out tonight, acting corporal as Lewis is on leave. The sirens have just gone. It is now 6.15.
Later, 4.30 a.m.: 'All clear' at 9 last night. It had been pouring with rain and is still rough outside.
The men who had been to Sloane Square kept me awake. For hours they sat around talking about the affair. An empty house near the station had been taken over as a temporary mortuary. One described it as a slaughter house with pools of blood on the floor and in the passages and wondered why something could not have been done to make it a little more presentable, such as putting down sawdust or making an attempt to clear up the blood. Others spoke of the people who were trying to identify the dead. Still another seemed to be impressed by the sight of passers-by silently raising their hats as a stretcher was carried out of the wrecked station to the nearby house - a stretcher that as often as not bore only a few mangled bits of flesh wrapped in a blanket.
At last I have been told that I can have my two days leave after all. I go next Friday. Hooray!
Letters to Marion
15 November, 1940
My dearest Mog,
Thanks so much for your letter which arrived yesterday. As I already told you I will be in Dorchester next Friday about 4 o'clock. I think we might as well have tea together and let Fred meet us at six as you suggest.
I am sending 30 shillings. I will make up the 15 shillings I will then owe you when I see you. I hope it won't make things too difficult for you but I just can't help it as I have to find the fare somehow.
This has been a bad week and we have had the worst disaster yet, Sloane Square station hit when it was full of people. That was last Tuesday and it has been a bit quieter since then.
I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing you again and when I do see you, I won't feel as tired as I feel now. I will try to bring the drawings with me.
So glad both your colds are better.
Love,
Clifford
PS
I will bring my butter, sugar and tea with me, also margarine.
15 November, 1940
Friday night
Dearest Mog,
Hope this will do until I see you next week.
I will arrive in Dorchester on Thursday* next at 3.56. You said you would ask Fred to pick us up.
I am sorry I am not sending the five bob I still owe you but I seem to have had to spend more being ill.
I certainly feel better - a bit weak in the knees, but that will soon go.
I am so glad that I am able to come and see you after all.
Everyone at the Depot has been very kind and were all pleased to see me back yesterday, and I was not allowed to do a stoke of work all day.
Till Thursday*, all my love to you both,
Clifford
* This is evidently a mistake; he travelled to Dorchester on Friday, 22nd.
Journal Entry
November 16, 1940
Impossible to sleep. A terrific barrage going on practically all night long. Every gun in the district keeping up an almost continuous fire. Yet nothing fell in Chelsea. Fulham again, and Wandsworth. A big blaze towards Victoria. A blaze which turned the night sky to a fiery orange colour merging into purple as it spread upwards.
Made a sketch of a rescue party at work, two corpses in the foreground.
Arts Theatre 3.30. Packed - only standing room at the back of the circle. In the first ballet, Foyer de Danse, Celia danced very beautifully. I do not believe she could make an ugly movement, and, as always, she has that lovely quality of elusiveness. Fascinating too in Façade, a ballet I am not particularly fond of.
Incendiaries fell as the bus passed through Fulham. Reached Putney safely about 7.30.
'I dreamed I was with you. And after a while you said you must go out, but not for long. I sat there looking at the paintings and outside the guns were firing and the bombs were falling. At last I could bear it no longer and I went out to look for you. The buildings were all covered with huge white sheets, and the roadway and pavements too, and underneath the sheets I could see the outline of hundreds of bodies, quite still. Then I saw you and you were dragging something out from under the vast sheet covering the roadway. And you told me you were sorry to have left me but you just had to.'
Letter to Marion
16 November, 1940
Saturday
My dearest Mog,
I have just got my ticket for next Friday, November 22nd. Arrive in Dorchester at 3.56 pm.
As soon as you get this letter will you write me one, by return, saying that you very much hope to seed me in Dorchester on the 22nd; that you have not been very well.
Don't overdo it but write the sort of letter some ass of a copper may have to read. This is because I have found out that I must pass through a restricted area and it may be necessary to have a letter from you as well as one from the Commandant here. I am not taking any chances of being delayed on the way. So please write at once as there is not a great deal of time and address your letter to me at -
Depot 1 (Stretcher Party)
Carlyle School,
Hortensia Road,
Chelsea, S.W.10.
Looking forward to seeing you.
All my love,
Clifford
Journal Entries
November 17, 1940
There has been a marked change in our propaganda of late. The gloves are off. No attempt has been made to hide the terrible attack on Coventry and everyone, officially as well, is now vowing it will be avenged. And no doubt it will when we are strong enough. We must first, however, justify ourselves in the eyes of the world, as if that mattered, but, more important, we must justify ourselves to ourselves. This we are now doing and having accomplished it to our satisfaction we will let things rip.
This is the beginning of the most horrible phase of all, inevitable as things are, but spiritually rotten all the same. O, the disgusting way in which both sides keep calling on God to help them!
A personal God would naturally be strictly neutral, and an impersonal force - well . . .
November 18, 1940
Monday morning.
Two bombs in the grounds of the depot last night. Shook us and ruined some allotments. Others fell near Lots Road again and destroyed several more houses. Also, two in fell in Chelsea football ground. Near enough -thank you.
Letter to Marion
18 November, 1940
Monday
Dearest,
Many thanks for your letter card. Please do nothing about the allowance form until I arrive. But you might try to make Pearl realize that I am doing a very dangerous job and that this allowance for you is a part of my wages - and I am by no means overpaid - also that there does happen to be a war on. Such objections are crazy. I suppose if I was in the army, she would advise you not to take the married allowance and to starve on my shilling a day! What's the difference? I have already taken a good deal of trouble about it.
All my love,
Until Friday,
Clifford
PS
Hope you have sent the letter to Hortensia Rd. I asked for.
Journal Entries
November 19, 1940
Managed to get to Sloane Square this morning although it wasn't my turn. Changed with someone else. Made a drawing from memory after I got back to the depot.
Last night was one of the quietest for a long time.
A sudden improvement in the conditions at the depot mu.st be noted. Bunks to sleep in and an extra blanket per man, and two days off per man every two months. The bunks, of course, are extremely uncomfortable, too narrow and too short. But the extra blanket is worth having. We now have three blankets each.
November 20, 1940
National Gallery with Bill for private view of Augustus John's drawings. Very fine. The recent heads in red chalk retouched with pencil seemed to me far more sensitive than the amazingly accomplished earlier work. He is really searching for and finding something of character that is completely of the present time.
On my way went to Agnew's show of modern painting. Grant, Moynihan, Dunlop, Baynes, Vanessa Bell, Pasmore. I felt I had nothing to fear from any of them. Also dropped in to Leger's. The back gallery has been damaged and is unsafe, ceiling down and a few pictures lost.
Leger talking about the Germans and how he hated them. I found this difficult to understand. I can't hate them. Part of a crazy system, misled if you like, with tragic results. That is all.
November 30, 1940
Saturday morning.
Gate guard last night. Damned cold. Heavy raid. Ten bombs pretty close. Showers of shrapnel falling over the hut. Raid over about 2am. Writing this in the studio. Horribly cold. No gas. No wood to light the stove. Thank God for the sheepskin coat! Sirens have just gone and something has dropped fairly close.
Letter to Marion
30 November, 1940
Saturday
Dearest Mog,
I went to Peter Jones for you on Thursday and no trace could be found of your original order! They are now sending you some blankets but of course they have gone up - 39 shillings and something the pair, I think. They promised to send you some cheaper ones, 31/ 9 a pair, if they could! Anyway, you must have them and I hope I will make some money soon.
Fairly quiet here until last night it was pretty hot again. I am quite all right, so don't worry. I will be seeing Bill on Monday and I will find out where Dumps is and if it could be possible for you to get somewhere near her, because I know how much you must be wanting a change.
I have almost done my scene painting and it looks very good. I wish you could see it but I will try to send you a photo as I believe some are being taken.
It is unusually cold here and there is still no gas and no wood to light the stove, although I still have a little coke. It is all; very stupid although it could be worse, and it can't last forever. That's all there is to it.
Forgive me now dear, I can't write any more. Too cold. I am going out to get something to eat and to sit in the warm.
Love to you and Julian. Write soon.
Clifford
Blitz
CLIFFORD HALL'S JOURNAL ~ 1939 - 1942 P13
including letters written to his wife Marion and some other correspondence
Journal Entry
December 4, 1940
Took some drawings to Leger. Saw the show of oils and drawings by Fireman Hay-something of the AFS at the Leicester Galleries. Poor things. I can only hope that he is a better firefighter than he is an artist. He has not felt a single one of these pictures. Technique, hard, mechanical and amateurishly commercial.
Also went to the National Gallery. Saw a photograph of my panel of Marion that was in the last exhibition there, on sale in the vestibule. Stamped on the back - National Gallery copyright. First I had heard of it, and the copyright happens to be mine. Nevertheless I find myself reasonably flattered. I bought one.
Went to look at the Adamas Gallery in Pall Mall Place, on my way home. Almost completely wrecked by a bomb. I had a good little nude with them, on board. Goodbye to that, I guess.
Letters to Marion
4 December, 1940
My dearest Mog,
I was very glad to get your letter. An "all clear" did go whilst we were in Southampton but it was a quiet journey. It seems strange what you told me about Dorchester, shops shutting and people clearing off the streets just because a warning was sounded. It was like that here for a week or so but pretty soon everything just went on as usual. It's the only way, otherwise life would be perfectly unbearable.
It has been fairly quiet in Chelsea, with the exception of last Friday night, since I came back.
I saw Bill on Monday and he has promised to ask Dumps about the possibilities of finding a room in Wadhurst but thinks it will be difficult. It worries me very much that you are unhappy and I don't blame you a bit. I wish we could find somewhere close for you to go. It's a terribly difficult business.
Do forget about that wretched allowance. I could never quarrel with you over such a stupid thing, and I know you are not a free agent at present; so please forgive me for anything I said. I still mean it - but it was not intended for you. I have not seen Stanley since I got back but I did write to him the other day.
I have hardly done any work, feel flat and tired, although I have been hard at the scene painting. Perhaps I will be able to get on with some more drawings soon as the other job is very nearly done. Also there is a chance of getting the gas going again here. It really has been too cold. There are limits. Let me know if the blankets turned out to be what you wanted.
I hope Julian has quite lost his cold. I think he is a very sweet child and I hope he will like me when we are all together again. And I do wish I could have stayed longer. I should get some more leave in January or February so I will look forward to coming again then.
Tell me what you think of the Chaos book when you have had time to finish it. I am glad you thought there was some good in the bits I showed you about the raids. It gets if off one's mind to put it down in some way or another.
All my love to you both,
Clifford
PS
Tell me what you really thought of the drawings when you write. Do you think there is an advance? I don't mind what I have to put up with as long as my work does not go off.
6 December, 1940
Friday evening
Dearest Mog,
I got both your letter this morning. Stanley does seem to have been very good to Julian; I hope he won't drive you crazy when he starts thumping on the piano!
The gas has come on again, you will be glad to hear, and not a moment too soon, for it is really cold now. I have got a fine idea for another drawing and it is amazing how I keep on seeing things that help me with it.
I am so pleased you enjoyed the book. I thought it was really good. Anna was fine - but so is her father, because he is honest with himself.
The lines from the Shakespeare sonnet are magnificent; and true. Yet he has not said everything. Think of what wonderful things Baudelaire, Lautrec and Pascin did largely as a result of the very thing that Shakespeare condemns. I suppose he is really right though, for he is concerned, and justly, with the end, and the end must be as he says. However, I am getting very deep; I could go on for pages on that angle.
Do not think that I am disillusioned. I am not. I have everything in the world to live for and lots of wonderful things to do. And I am going to do at least some of them.
Since last Friday we have had a very quiet time.
I may be seeing Bill and Dumps tomorrow and I will have a talk to her about you.
I do hope that you can manage on this money this week. I will make up the fifteen shillings I now owe you as soon as your cheque comes. I simple had to have a pair of shoes soled and heeled this week, and also had to send some pictures to Manchester where I was invited to a show run by the Whitworth Gallery on the lines of the show of panels at the Leicester last year. Will you ask Sybil if she has taken her (I regard them as mine) pictures to East Meon from Portsmouth? I am very worried about them. Particularly the head we did of you at the Minerva. I should not have let that one go. It's horrible parting with just the very special things one does.
The Adams Gallery in Pall Mall has been knocked to hell, and there was a very good little nude of mine there. I went to look at the place where the gallery had been and I felt sad as I thought of my little picture buried beneath all the rubble and bits of charred wood, and most certainly scratched and torn and quite ruined.
I have begun to get Nicholson interested in the drawings I brought to you and it may be possible to do something with them when things get a bit better. The Leicester Gallery have a show of paintings and drawings by a bloke in the AFS. They are rotten and quite cheered me up.
There is a photo of the painting of you on sale at the National Gallery. Very flattering, only it still happens to be my copyright; of course it would be silly to say anything about that. All the same they should have asked me. I will try to get one and send it to you.
Glad the blankets were the right ones. I told them that you only expected to pay 31/9 as that was their price when the order was first given - so it appears to have turned out well in spite of the muddle they must have made.
I heard from Charles this morning. He has got a job at last, only he does not say what sort. He came down some weeks ago and looked half-starved but fairly cheerful.
I am writing this at Putney. There is a real gale blowing and it looks like being another quiet night.
All my lover to you and Julian,
Clifford
Journal Entries
December 9, 1940
After a remarkably quiet week we had a very intense raid last night. I was at Putney.
December 11, 1940
Mattresses have been supplied at last. Like thin slices of rock, but better than nothing.
First Aid lecture by Dr Seymour Price. Enjoyed it immensely. It is always exhilarating to listen to someone who really loves his job.
From today's Daily Mirror:
Here is General Sir Archibald Wavell, Commander-In-Chief of the British Forces in the Middle East as revealed by some of his sayings:-
The ideal infantryman has the qualities of a successful poacher, cat burglar and gunman.
Precisely. He must possess those very qualities for which he would be imprisoned in peace time, as an enemy of the society.
Letters to Marion
12 December, 1940
Thursday
Dearest Mog,
I got both your letters today. I was so happy to hear what you thought about the drawings. I have only done one more since I saw you - of a ruined street with three people standing in the roadway - a good one; but I had to work hard at the scene painting* and I have also been getting on with the monochrome for my Seaton Street picture.
*The Chelsea Stretcher Party put on a production of "The Ghost Train" by Arnold Ridley as their Christmas play. Clifford was roped in to paint the scenery.
The play went very well and everyone seemed very pleased with the set. When they first asked me to do it and showed me a photo of the original design, I was appalled, however, I got a free hand and began to enjoy myself. Do you remember we saw the play years ago? Well right at the start one of the passengers enters the waiting room, looks round and exclaims "Good Lord, what a hole!" I built it all up on that, I painted weird damp patches on the walls. In parts I stuck on real wallpaper, painted to match the general colour and then pulled it down and tore the edges in fantastic shapes. I made a lovely spider's web with wool, seccotine and cotton which I fixed in one corner. I got some posters from the G.W. Railway and stuck two on the walls, partly covering the damp patches. Then I painted over the posters, toning and dirtying them and so incorporating them in the design.
The day before the show opened there was trouble about the ceiling. The producer said it would be too much trouble. But I had designed for a ceiling to produce the effect of the play taking place shut in a damp, miserable box-like room, and I was determined to have it. So I turned temperamental and said I would not be associated with the scenery and they must take my name off the programme if the ceiling was not put up. It was put up, and then I painted more damp patches on it and cracks and also a part in which the plaster had fallen away showing the laths. All as the enclosed cutting says, inspired by the now deplorable state of our Trafalgar Studios! Although for journalistic effect my shell cap has been transformed into a bomb! So don't let the cutting disturb you. I will send you a photo of the stage, if possible.
I have just heard that my friend in Rugby has sold two sketches for me. He says he is writing this week and so as soon as possible I will send you the fifteen shillings and also a bit extra.
This morning I had to go to Fabers who wrote asking if I had any pictures of Montmartre or Montparnasse suitable to illustrate Charles's book. I took some, and they will, I think, use one or two of them. They will only pay a small reproduction fee, but it's worth having, anyway.
I am rather worried that your leg is still bad and I hope the ointment the Doctor gave you makes it better soon. What did he say about it? Tell me when you write next. Don't forget, please.
I sent a parcel off to you a couple of days ago. A little toy house and a book for Julian and also a book each for Michael and Richard. I wish I could be with you - but never mind, there will be lots more times. And I will certainly get some more leave fairly early in the new year. I have not heard anything from Dumps yet. I saw her and Bill last Saturday, and she promised she would make enquiries for me.
I hope my money from Rugby comes soon because I want to send you some quickly.
I did write to you, I think with the parcel, that I was all right after last Sunday. I expect you will have had the letter by now.
One can never get anywhere with a point of view like Cecily's. I want to express all the bad and the good, all the ugly and the wicked, and all the beautiful. Only in that way is it possible to get anywhere or to do anything. I am tempted to quote - "he descended into Hell, and on the third day he ascended into Heaven". Do you understand? You must have your star always in view to steer by, it would be boring if things went easily all the time.
Write soon. All my love to you both,
Clifford
14 December, 1940
Saturday
Dearest Mog,
Your letter with the cheque came this afternoon. I am glad the parcel arrived so quickly. I am sending you a cheque for £1 with this so as to waste no time as I know you must want it. As soon as I hear from Rugby, with some money, I will send you something towards the cot blankets.
I also sent the photo of the painting of you, and Paul Tanqueray has done a photo of the stage set which I hope will turn out well. If it does I will send you one of them too. I would like you to get some idea of what it is like.
I hope your leg gets better soon. What it really needs, I suppose, the very thing it is impossible for you to get - that is plenty of rest. At least, try to get what you can.
Very nice of Winifred to send you the present for Julian.
All my love to you both,
Clifford
On December 9, 1940, the Daily Sketch reported:
Bomb Inspiration
A Chelsea stretcher party includes four West End actors, an actress of note and a famous artist. These have produced an all A.R.P. Christmas production of the "Ghost Train".
Black-bearded Clifford Hall, who has painted the scenery showing a derelict railway station waiting-room, told me it was inspired by his own Chelsea bombed studio where he made war sketches.
Two days later, the same newspaper published a second report of the production with a photo of an "impromptu rehearsal" showing Clifford Hall busy working on the scenery in the background.
'The Rescue Party', November 16, 1940, watercolour by Clifford Hall. According to the database records held at the Imperial War Museum, London, this work was purchased by the War Artists Advisory Committee in 1941. Subsequently, it was toured to South Africa in 1941 and South America in 1942 as part of the WAAC war art exhibitions that served as a propaganda objective for the British government. It was in an entire collection of 111 paintings that was lost at sea due to enemy action in June, 1942. The b&w photograph of the picture which survives was reproduced in the Oxford University Press's 1942 publication 'War Pictures by British Artists No.2 BLITZ with an Introduction by J.B. Morton'.