Avatar photo

Cory Santos

corysantos

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.


Brayford Pool is very much one of the most dynamic parts of modern Lincoln, rising from the ashes of its post-industrial decline to become a vibrant and bustling hotspot.

With the new arrival into our city of scores of new residents over the past weeks, in the form of students, I thought it would be pertinent to introduce them to a few of the city’s key features and help to explain their heritage and history, with this instalment focusing on the beloved Brayford Pool.

Lincoln has always revolved around its pool. Even before the settlement that we know as Lincoln (or Lindum Colonia to give it its ancient name), archaeological evidence points to houses along its banks. It was the Romans, however, that truly recognised the importance of the body of water and utilised it to the fullest extent.

Realising that the location of the pool, just outside the gates of Lincoln, the Romans not only deepened on the pool to create a large inland port with access to the North Sea, but also dug the impressive Foss Dyke to the pool’s west in the third century, linking the River Trent and the settlements in central Britannia to Lincoln and the wider world. This important canal would lead to the impressive rise of Roman Lincoln from colonia to provincial capital by the fourth century.

The departure of the Romans, however, coincided with the decline of the city, as without a strong, unified political system, trade into the pool dramatically decreased, dragging Lincoln down with it. This was to be fairly short-lived though, as by the eighth and ninth centuries Lincoln would again find its pool bustling with trade. The Vikings controlled the area under the Dane’s Law, allowing Lincoln to once again become prosperous as an important trading centre within the greater Norse world.

Photo: Joshua Potter for The Lincolnite

Photo: Joshua Potter for The Lincolnite

This new lease on life for Lincoln and its lake continued into the Anglo-Saxon and later the Norman period, as the importance of its connections with the Trent and the Sea ensured the city again became a regional power, with the wharves exporting its famous wool and the warehouses on the banks storing various goods from throughout the kingdom and beyond. This importance was cemented in charter by Edward I in 1291, making Lincoln a staple town, ensuring that all regional trade must be conducted in the city.

As was seen after the departure of the Romans nearly a millennia before, however, Lincoln and its pool soon found that no matter how great the climb, the fall afterwards was always felt particularly hard. By 1400, Lincoln had lost its title of staple town to Boston, which offered better links to the sea, and soon the pool and the canal which sprang from it fell into deep decline, becoming horribly silted by the 17th century to the point where the Foss Dyke was unnavigable. This would only be fixed by an act of Parliament in 1671, which dredged the river and the canal, improving links to Boston for the region.

This seemingly insignificant decree by Parliament was to have a great effect on the city, leading to the second revival of the Brayford into a mighty inland port. With the rise of the industrial revolution and the difficulties in road travel (due to a tricky combination of highwaymen and general disrepair), there was a dramatic increase in traffic along the waterways of the Midlands and soon freight poured back into Lincoln as its waterfront once again teemed with stores, pubs and the general hustle and bustle of a city going places. This boom continued through the 20th century, but unfortunately for the pool it would be passed by in favour of new technologies.

The arrival of the trains in the 1840s provided direct competition to the waterways as a means of freight transport. To compound difficulties, the Foss Dyke and Witham were in need of dredging again, but as the cost was extremely high, they were leased to the Great Northern Railway who, determined to end the chances of competition, simply allowed them to silt up once more. The end result was that while Lincoln continued to steadily grow as a city, the once great Brayford slowly sunk into disuse and decay. Until by the 1960s its waters were laden with the wrecked hulls of many barges. Full of derelict warehouses, factories, the old train yards and several rough and ready pubs, the future of the Brayford and its waterfront looked bleak. Fanciful plans for filling it in were even mentioned.

Over the last thirty years, however, the area has seen a dramatic overhaul, thanks in no small part to the university, which took over the train depot and maintenance buildings on its south bank. In this period the old has been torn down (with the exception of the Royal William IV pub) and a wide array of eateries, hotels and leisure businesses have taken their places. Within the pool itself is a large marina of pleasure craft and houseboats.

The Brayford has once again been reopened for trade, though now it deals in ideas, education and entertainment. To some in Lincoln, the new waterfront is something out of place, not fitting with the traditional look of the city. Though to many others, including the new students, it is symbolic of the modern, re-energised Lincoln: a city on the up and going places once again. Once again that growth focuses on its pool: once, and now the beating heart of the city.

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

On the evening of September 16, terror was brought to Lincoln as an enemy aircraft dropped bombs nearby in Washingborough. This followed a similar attack, several months earlier, where dozens of men were killed during a raid on Cleethorpes.

This, however was not the Blitz of 1940 and 1941, but a series of raids in the First World War, and the aircraft in question were not airplanes, but Zeppelins. How then, did these raids occur and why were airships utilized, when the plane was surely a much faster and technologically advanced craft? And why was little old Washingborough targeted by those big, mean German Zeppelins?

A typical Zeppelin craft, courtesy of the Birmingham Mail.

A typical Zeppelin craft, courtesy of the Birmingham Mail

Despite the continued development and widespread use of heavier-than-aircraft (i.e. planes) from 1915 through 1916, the German Army preferred the use of airships for their raids on British targets within the UK for a number of reasons. Firstly, they were silent and therefore able to maintain the element of surprise. Secondly, they were able to carry a far larger payload of bombs to the smaller planes of the day, and finally, they were able to fly higher than the aircraft of the period, with fewer defensive measures that could be taken against them on the ground.

Accidental strike

The first attacks began in January 1915 and throughout the year, with London being the major target. Lincolnshire and the East Yorkshire coast, however, were also widely targeted. Why, though, would the Germans wish to bomb Lincolnshire, a seemingly quiet, rural area, far from the industry and machinations of war?

In the most simplest sense, several of these German raids upon the area were by accident. One particular incident, alluded to earlier, occurred in Cleethorpes on April 1, 1916. A German Zeppelin, hoping to drop its bomb on London, was blown off course by the weather (navigation, particularly at night or in severe winds often hindered the raids), making it only as far as Newark. Attempting to turn around and return safely home, the captain of the ship decided to release his bombs into the sea near Hull, to reduce weight.

Many of the bombs landed safely in the sea; one though landed on a Baptist chapel, which was the billet of 3rd Battalion of the Manchester Regiment, killing 31 men. Other raids occurred against Boston, Navenby, Skellingthorpe and other settlements in the area.

An ill-judged city raid

The raid on Washingborough in 1916, which occurred some five months later, can also be attributed to German miscalculation. Lincoln was a prime target for the German raids. Despite being famous the for the creation and production of the tanks of the First World War, the city also played a vital role in the production of other essential military craft, particularly planes.

Ruston-Hornsby, the engine manufacturer, was during the war one of the largest producers of military aircraft in the world, building some 2,700 planes in addition to over 3,000 engines (amongst other armaments, such as mortars for gas and flame-throwers). It was targets such as these which made Lincoln such a tempting choice for a raid, and on September 16 the Germans struck.

A Zeppelin air raid shelter in Cleethorpes, still standing today. Photo: English Heritage

A Zeppelin air raid shelter in Cleethorpes, still standing today. Photo: English Heritage

That evening, the Zeppelins quietly floated towards Lincoln, using the spires of the Cathedral as a useful navigational aid. Silently moving to the east, they hoped to bomb the factories responsible for the production of the armaments, while at the same time inflicting terror upon the population.

Unfortunately for them however, night navigation proved too much of a problem. According to local legend, the Zeppelin captain had been following the firebox of a passing locomotive. The driver of the train, having his suspicions aroused, brought the train to a halt at Greetwell, with the Germans thinking the train had stopped at Lincoln station.

As a result, thinking they were bombing within the city, the Zeppelin crew had actually dropped its ordinance in a garden in Washingborough as well as a further three in fields nearby. No casualties were reported as a result of the strike, though two boys died the next day as a ferry, full of spectators hoping to witness the damage, collapsed in the river. The parish church of St. John within the village today remembers the raid on one of its stained glass windows.

Technological advancements

By the time of the Washingborough raid, however, the course of war was turning against the Zeppelins. Improvements in aircraft eliminated the airships ability to fly higher than planes and the development of incendiary bullets allowed ground forces to shoot down the crafts with much more ease. Such was the case in 1917, when a Zeppelin was shot down off the coast of Grimsby.

The operator of a steam boat, William Martin, responded to the incident, thinking it a boat in distress. Upon realizing that the crew were Germans and responsible for the attacks that evening, he left the men to drown; a decision which drew much controversy, but best illustrates the anger these attacks wrought upon the county. Following disastrous raids, such as these, the Germans quickly sought to diminish the role of the airships, preferring instead the heavier and faster aeroplanes of their fleet.

The stories of the Zeppelin raids against Britain are often forgotten over the much more famous and deadly battles which were to be fought over the country later in the century. However, they harken back to a period when warfare as we know it today was in its infancy, and a time when Lincolnshire was thrust onto the front lines of European conflict due to its links with military aircraft, a link which lasts to this day.

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

+ More stories