The devastating 1953 storm moved southwards down the English coast on the night of 31st January, unable to fight the flowing mass, towns and villages were flooded.
Weak defences battled against a force greater than anyone realised, high sea levels and raging winds broke through all natural barriers and crushed man-made attempts at keeping the waters at bay. Towns were destroyed, 307 people lost their lives and over 32, 000 were evacuated from their homes. Normal daily living was abruptly halted along the eastern side of England, death, survival and recovery took over.
This story is centred on the Main Road of the Port of Harwich in Essex, England, here 8 people lost their lives and 3,000 were made homeless.
Christine Doris Smy (nee Eagle/ Calver) lived in a three story town house that lined the main road; this is her story of that dreadful night.
The unusual sloshing sound as the local fire engine raced past alerted me to the fact that something wasn't quite right, it was 10pm on the night of January 31st 1953, it was blowing a gale outside, I thought of my husband Jack who was working a night shift for Trinity House further down on the quay, nearer the stormy North sea. I had three small sons who were sleeping in their attic bedroom and my sick mother-in-law was resting in her room below mine, as I thought any water that would seep in would be minimal, I felt all were best left sleeping. I settled into bed but then thought I should take some precaution against water damage, in case the drains rose again, they had seeped into the lower basement and the family room in the past, no serious damage had been done but this time I would move my upholstered furniture onto the kitchen and dining tables, the boys Sunday best was also airing in the lower rooms, I would clear the floor as best as I could.
Slipping quietly down one flight of stairs and past my mother-in-laws' room, and then down another set of stairs, I realised with horror that I was standing ankle deep in freezing cold water.
Collecting my thoughts I set about clearing items from the floor to the table, after a while I realised that the effort I was putting in was futile, the water was rising, I gathered important papers, a couple of precious knick-knacks, the boys Sunday clothing and paddled my way back upstairs. Crossing the landing to my mother-in-laws room I made the decision to move us all up to the top attic room, my mother-in-law needed assistance and the time was ticking by. When we opened her bedroom door to go back out onto the landing the shock set in, another room door was open and the mattress off of the bed was floating around freely, the water was rising fast, turning to move my mother-in-law a little faster I was faced with the tin pot from under her bed bobbing out of the room, the water was freezing, we were waist high now.
We got to the boys room, I gathered their clothing, lit a few candles and we sat together waiting, the boys had heard noises and were awake, one looked out of the window and saw a dead dog float by, he was so distressed, it was then that I realised how serious things were, that window was the highest point of a three storey house, the water was just below the window. I opened the window, the air was freezing and the noise was horrendous, I called out to a man in a rowing boat , he was rowing up the main road towards us, we were rescued, my mind went out to my sister and my husband, they were in the highest, fiercest part of the flood, I prayed to God to keep them safe. He had answered my prayers; they were waiting for us at the end of the road.
Rowing up the main road was a novelty for the boys and they giggled at the adventure of it all, I just sat quietly, sad thoughts of the loss we and others had suffered that night. The Salvation Army, the Red Cross and the local community were wonderful, we were given food packages and clothing, our families in safe areas were contacted and we were taken in and cared for.
We lived with my parents for nine months; we were allowed to visit our homes after the water had subsided, the sight and the smell was dreadful, our homes were classified as a health hazard and we had to leave with the officials, we were not allowed to stay. My bottled fruit and salted meat lay rotting, sewerage and street debris lay across the floor. I cried, I cried for the loss of the home we had made, I cried for the friends who lost family and I cried because the struggle was just beginning.
The authorities used cleaning chemicals to sanitize our property and then gave us a date we could start clearing out, the task was tiring, emotionally draining and frightening as we came to terms with what we had lost. Most of the wooden items were rotten and declared unfit for putting back in the house, Jack made new furniture from good wood , I begged unused curtains and materials from friends and family and between us we put the heart back into our home.
October 1953 was a wonderful month, we were given the legal paperwork declaring our homes free from hazard to our health. We left the care of our families and became independent once more, we also had another room to prepare as baby number four was arriving in March 1954, my nest was complete, and we were home.
