A.R.P. In Elizabethan Days

Southland Times, Issue 23954, 21 October 1939, Page 11

A.R.P. In Elizabethan Days

JN olden days there used to be chains of beacons right through England, as those will know who remember the “red glare on Skiddaw” which, in Macaulay, “roused the burghers of Carlisle.” But Alan Ivimey, in a recent broadcast talk in England, stressed how elaborate the system was. At intervals along the coast'(he said) there were to be groups of three beacons—probably big iron baskets on tall poles. We’ll call these the seaside beacons. On the highest ground inland, from which the sea-side beacons could be seen, there were to be groups of two beacons. We’ll call these the hilltop beacons. They had to be visible to as much of the country right inland as possible. Third, right inland, in places which could see the hill beacons, there were to be single fires—cressets, or firebaskets, on church towers and castle ramparts or, where more convenient, big bonfires. The county of Sussex provides ideal beacon country and would give a good example of this triple system. it ir THE rules were as follows: When an enemy ship were sighted one seaside beacon was to be lit. The rest were to stay put. If enough ships to carry a large force came within four miles, two sea-side beacons were to be lighted and one hill beacon. Others were still to stay put. Meanwhile the local squires and their men would have turned out in obedience to the first alarm, marching towards the fire at night or the smoke by day. There were, too, mounted men always ready by the beacons to carry messages to the mayors of towns, village constables, local noblemen and so on and to direct parties of retainers on their way to the invasion who might have taken the wrong turning. Should the enemy land and begin to get the

better of the local forces, then the third sea-side beacon was touched off and the second hill-top beacon. And at that signal all the inland single beacons went up and the general alarm spread throughout the country. In the year the French sacked the Isle of Wight, one of the foreign ambassadors to the English Court wrote in his despatches, “By means of beacons the English say that they can anywhere muster 25,000 to 30,000 men in two hours, and they are confident in their strength and delight to see the enemy near.” We should think, we weren’t doing too badly about organization nowadays—with telephones, wireless and motor transport—if we could guarantee to get a force of 30,000 men assembled at any invadable spot inside two hours of the alarm. Of course, the system wasn’t infallible. Haystacks would sometimes catch fire near the spot where beacons stood. SOMETIMES the men appointed to watch the beacons and see the combustibles didn’t get wet, shirked their duty. If a beacon or a gorse patch near it was fired by mistake, the consequences were apt to be far-reaching, of course. You see, on the lighting of your local beacon you were supposed to drop everything and run home, put on your steel headpiece, seize your sword, halberd or cross-bow, kiss your wife, and off with you to the village green or the manor or the market place, or wherever the agreed rendezvous was. And then you marched off to join the neighbouring bauds from the towns and villages around. It is on record that somehow a false alarm was once given in Worcestershire and, according to plan, a party of gallant Worcestermen started marching south. And they’d marched all the way to Wantage before they found out that the war was off. And it’s an awfully long walk from Worcestershire to Wantage.