The Campile Bombing – 26th August 1940

The day after my fathers ninth birthday, 26th August 1940, he witnessed something that profoundly marked his life.  Up on the hills around the village he caught sight of his first ever German airplane which was followed closely by the dropping of bombs on the small rural village of Campile directly across from the Cheekpoint in which three people died. 
The war years in Ireland, or “the emergency”, was a time of rationing, hunger and a certain mount of fear, at least initially.  The threat of invasion was real from either warring side, and from villages like Cheekpoint, sailors risked their lives to keep meager supply lines open to both Britain and Ireland at extreme risk to themselves, some paying the ultimate price.  For example Philip Hanlon, husband of my neighbour here in the Russianside, Joanie Hanlon, who died four days later when the ship he was aboard, the SS Mill Hill, was torpedoed. My grandfather Andy, served throughout the war on a small coaster, called the SS Silford, if memory serves.
On that day, Monday 26th August, my father climbed up out of the village with his pal down the road, Jim Doherty.  They were going to set snares in the hope of extra food at home.  It was a bright clear morning with patchy cloud and a warm sun.  The hill fields, which were between the village and the Minaun afforded a brilliant view of not just the meeting of the rivers, but of the harbour and the land stretching away to the Irish sea via the neighbouring county of Wexford.
Heinkel HE 111
accessed from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heinkel_He_111
Whilst ducking in and out of the furze shrouded ditches where runs of rabbit were more obvious, their youthful ears heard an unfamiliar sound. Glancing around they spied the dark green plane (it would later be confirmed as a Heinkell HE 111), and as they watched it came up the Wexford side of the river towards Nuke and then along the shoreline to Dunbrody and the main Waterford – Rosslare railway line.  It then continued towards Sliabh Coillte and turned in an arc towards the Barrow Bridge. Descending as it went, it proceeded to follow the railway line.  It was only a few hundred feet as it came in over the small railway station and rural village at Campile, and then out of the bottom of the plane dropped three bombs, in quick succession.
Their mouths fell open with the vision of what they saw and as they instinctively ran for the village, I’m sure their minds were filled with panic and dread.  Jim’s mother was from the Wexford side and my father had relations there too.  They heard the sound of the bombs rather than saw them.  It was later he heard that the plane had turned around and made a second run.
Arriving home, my father found the house empty, but proceeding down to the quay, he found the area ablaze.  Already boats had left for Campile pill and Great Island and others were getting ready. He tried to tell what he had seen, but all the adults were fully aware, and their thoughts now were with their neighbours and in some cases family and there was more than one person in tears.

It was late that night before the grim news was brought to the village.  A direct hit on the farming co-operative  Three young women were dead and parts of the village on fire and in rubble. The death toll was considered miraculously low, a fair had been on earlier and most of the staff of the co-operative had gone home for lunch. Army, guards and volunteers alike had spent the evening clearing the rubble, ensuring that everyone was accounted for.
view of the damage accessed from
http://scoilmhuirecampile.com/index.php/a-h-local-history/
The funerals were massive and the event was widely reported, and people came from as far away as Belfast to view the scene.  At the inquiry afterwards, various opinions were expressed as to why it had occurred and indeed some eyewitnesses claimed that the plane had come over the Minaun and had turned at the Barrow Bridge.  As my father explained it, it was all a matter of where you viewed it from.
As for the reason, the most prevalent account you will hear today is that allied soldiers had been captured on the continent and butter from the co-op was identified in their supplies, and thus it became a legitimate target.  However the inquest found that the co-operative and the supplies that traveled on the SW Wexford railway line was the actual target. (a lesser known event that day was that another Heinkel 111 had bombed a viaduct further along the railway line)
Of course some people hold the view that it was all a big mistake.  I recall attending a wedding in the Tower Hotel many years back, when a chap in our company put forward the opinion that the airmen thought they were over England or Wales.  My father was less than civil about the matter.  He pointed out that the day was so fine they could have been in no doubt where they were, he also explained that they followed the coast and the train tracks like reading a map.  But to cap it off he said, and to this the assembled crowd had no more to say, if the Luftwaffe thought they were in Wales, why did they descend to a few hundred feet to drop their bombs?  They would have dropped them from a height where they would have a fighting chance of surviving a ground barrage. The only reason they came so low he pointed out, was they knew their was nothing to shoot at them from the ground, and they were bombing a defenceless and harmless neutral.
My dad was dead before a remembrance garden was erected to the event, and an excellent book was produced by the Horeswood Historical Society in 2010.
I publish a blog each Friday.  If you like this piece or have an interest in the local history or maritime heritage of Waterford harbour and environs you can email me at russianside@gmail.com to receive the blog every week.
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The Cheekpoint “cowboys” who lassoed a floating mine

As children in the 1970’s one of our favourite games was Cowboys and Indians. Everyone wanted to be John Wayne, or indeed Clint Eastwood as it was the era of the spaghetti western. On one occasion we were making a lasso out of some rope in the yard when my father fell to telling us about the Cheekpoint fishermen who had lassoed a floating mine. He had our eyes ‘out on sticks’ as they say in his embellished telling.

My Father of course was Bob Doherty, sometimes known as the Hatter, and considered by many to be as mad.  He was renowned for his stories, many of them tall indeed, but a recurring theme in my blog stories in which he features is that he like all great story tellers based his best on facts.

“The lads were coming down the barrow from fishing eels when they spotted the mine, a remnant of the just finished WW II, floating towards the Barrow Bridge.  As they rowed around the mine, they realised that the tide was taking it towards the opening span wharf and that if it hit it, the whole bridge could go.  Well as they debated it, they heard the noise of an approaching train. In a flash they fashioned a lasso out of some rope aboard, and getting as close they dared, they managed after a few attempts to get the line around the mine and then rowed it away.” “Jesus” said someone, “that was close one”. “Close” said me father, “As the train came across the bridge the driver blew the whistle the whole way to the tunnel, several passengers fainted, while the other roared and cheered”
The opening span of the Barrow Bridge allowing access and egress
from the port of New Ross
Lassos were all the rage after that, and it was all we could talk about for weeks. I often heard the story retold, but my fathers version of course bet all. Needless to say as an adult it became a more sober telling, and there are several contemporary versions in the newspapers, including the Munster Express, Kilkenny People, Irish Independent and Cork Examiner.
The men of course were Jack Heffernan and Jack O’Connor, both of the Rookery, Cheekpoint.  The year was 1946 and the second world war (or Emergency as we called it) had just finished.  As a consequence many dangerous experiences were had with floating mines.  What we can gleam from the newspapers (which contain several accounts of the same story) is that the men spotted the mine, and managed to alert the Guards at Passage.  It doesn’t say how.  And I can’t say whether they managed to call from the phone box in Molly Doherty’s shop at the cross roads, or if that was not there at the time did they run to Passage itself. The authorities alerted, a bomb disposal unit from the Curragh Camp was dispatched.
Barrow Bridge, the mine was located to the left at Drumdowney
Meanwhile the mine grounded between Snow Hill Quay and Drumdowney Point (known locally as the Point of the wood) as the tide went out and once settled on the mud, a rope was tied around it, to prevent it floating away. I can’t say if this was by the same duo or not.  But whoever done it, it was a risky act, but it proved essential in containing the issue. Although the boat train departed from Waterford that evening, it was decided to close off the bridge to rail and shipping on the Saturday and both the morning train to Waterford (6.50am) and the 9.40am market train from Waterford stopped and departed from Campile Station in Co Wexford. Bus transfers were used to get around the situation.  
A sense of what the mine may have looked like
The bomb disposal unit, under Comdt. Fynes, had to wait for the tide to go out before they approached the mine on the Saturday.  It was described as 5′ 4″x 3’4″ and was encrusted with rust and barnacles.  It was thought to have been a floating mine, deployed with an anchor and chain that had broken away.  The opinion of the army was that it had been deployed on the sea bed several years before,  There was no information provided about it’s origin.  The unit managed to make safe the mine by 4pm that evening, allowing the 5.30pm boat train depart Waterford in safety.
Although the facts in these cases are all important, I presume the younger reader would still enjoy my fathers telling even more.
Why not join us on Monday for our free bank holiday ramble departing Faithlegg House at 11am, where these and other stories will make up part of our walk.
Other stories about mines or the barrow bridge you might enjoy.
I publish a blog each Friday.  If you like this piece or have an interest in the local history or maritime heritage of Waterford harbour and environs you can email me at russianside@gmail.com to receive the blog every week.
My Facebook and Twitter pages are more contemporary and reflect not just heritage 
and history but the daily happenings in our beautiful harbour:  
F https://www.facebook.com/whtidesntales  T https://twitter.com/tidesntales