A couple of weeks or so ago, I wrote a column on piano smashing, once a regular attraction at summer fetes, and pointed out it would be unlikely such an event could be held today due to those hugely over-played bedfellows Health and Safety.

Well those were the words that sprang to mind too, when I stumbled upon another story, this time from 1941.

It’s headed Watford’s Gas Week and, as if that weren’t enough, has the second headline: Tear Gas in the Streets.

It seems that back in 1941, there was a real fear that Hitler would launch a gas attack on the country so everyone was encouraged to carry their gas mask around with them at all times. Older readers may remember it.

The trouble was, many people either couldn’t be bothered, were forgetful or didn’t believe they were in any danger, because they didn’t heed the advice.

Whatever the reason, the powers-that-be decided something had to be done to further encourage people to carry their gas masks. So they decided to launch a gas attack on Watford.

It doesn’t seem creditable nowadays, but back in the war years that seemed a good idea, and so the Watford Observer of August 22, 1941, contained the following paragraph: “On either Thursday or Friday [next week] harmless tear gas will be liberated somewhere in the town, and people who are not carrying their gas masks will have an uncomfortable time. The liberation of the gas will be announced by the sounding of rattles. Handbells will indicate the ‘all clear’.”

The Watford Observer was clearly tipped off about where the gas was because not only did they have a reporter on hand, but he [or she] actually took his gas mask off during the exercise so he could give a first hand account of what being gassed by Hitler might be like.

Here’s the report, which appeared in the paper on September 5, 1941: “On Friday afternoon, harmless tear gas was released in Watford High Street between Clarendon Road and Market Street. Had this gas attack been the real thing, sent with Hitler’s compliments, hospitals would have been crowded with casualties.

“Before the test started, a count of the people passing by showed only 40 per cent had their masks with them. When the gas was released, people were warned before they entered the contaminated area, but between 30 and 40 “casualties” needed treatment. Some people found their masks did not fit properly; they had not taken care to have them tested by wardens.

“If this test exercise has convinced the public they must carry their gas masks, and they must see they are in order, then it has served its purpose.

“The specially arranged first aid post was as efficient as could be desired. To test it, I became a casualty. I removed my gas mask in the middle of a big concentration of gas. Immediately my eyes began to tingle; within a few seconds I was crying like a baby; the tears filled my eyes and I was blind.

“A warden quickly came to my assistance and guided me to the first aid post. Here a nurse took charge and put a waterproof cape over my shoulders. I could see now, for the effect of the gas wore off quickly once away from the concentration. But they still tingled, and I welcomed the bathing which followed. Two or three minutes after entering the concentration, I was as fit as if I had never been near any gas.”

This doesn’t appear to have been the only time such a tear gas test, was held in the area. For the very day after that report was published, a second test was done in Bushey High Street.

The following week’s Watford Observer reported: “Prior to the release of the gas, few pedestrians seemed to have masks with them. But as soon as the rattles sounded, respirators were produced from shopping baskets and, it seemed, even out of the air itself.

“Only one or two people were seen near the contamination area without masks. Omnibuses stopped before entering the contamination area, drivers and conductors putting on their respirators before continuing.”

 

While we’re on danger, there were two notable “have a go heroes” whose daring deeds happened in September in the 60s.

Firstly, the tale of Stanley Christianson, the Boreham Wood [it was two words in those days] garage manager who foiled armed raiders – with their own shotgun.

“The incident happened at The Hyde, Hendon, where Mr Christianson, 45, works as a part-time night manager of the Hillfield filling station,” reported the Watford Observer of September 24, 1965.

“Two gunmen, both in their early 20s, walked into the garage at 1.10am, pointed a loaded .410 shotgun at Mr Christianson’s head and ordered him to empty the till.

“‘This is a hold-up,’ they told him.

“But they had picked on the wrong man. For Mr Christianson, an ex-soldier in the Regular Army, had received a crash course in Commando training and unarmed combat during the war.

“Calmly he removed his glasses and stepped forward a few paces. ‘Stand back or I’ll kill you,’ shouted one of the men.

“Mr Christianson swept a stool up off the floor and hurled it at his attackers. It hit one of the raiders in the face and smashed a pair of dark glasses he was wearing.

“While both men were off their guard, Mr Christianson sprang forward and grabbed the gun barrel. A battle followed, Mr Christianson was kicked and punched but he hung on.

“‘Directly I had the gun they fled,’ he told an ‘Observer’ reporter. ‘I chased them out of the garage forecourt and then went back to telephone the police.’”

This wasn’t the first time Mr Christianson had displayed heroics above and beyond the call of duty. Four years previously he had foiled a £3,000 wages robbery outside his home by climbing onto the bonnet of the raiders’ getaway car.

Just over a year later, the paper had news of someone else displaying extraordinary courage in the face of extreme danger.

As reported by the Watford Observer of September 30, 1966: “Two masked men, one of whom brandished an axe, threatened 70-year-old Miss Gladys Yeomans, of Gade Avenue, Watford, as she stood in the kitchen of her home at lunchtime on Tuesday.

“‘Don’t scream,’ they warned, ‘but I did scream – I screamed my head off,’ she told a Watford Observer reporter.

“Miss Yeomans, who lives alone with Timmy, her cat, said she screamed loudly three times. ‘I told them to get out and they ran off – it was all over in minutes.’”

Three cheers for both of them – and others like them. Health and safety? Pah!

ONLINE TOMORROW: The last steam train to pass through Rickmansworth in 1966 (picture).