Why Coventry made me sad

We travelled into Coventry this week. We had been warned that this arm of the Coventry canal can be full of rubbish, but it wasn’t so bad, and it was lovely to be moored in a basin near the centre of town.

I knew very little about Coventry. I knew it was the second city in the UK midlands, and I knew the old cathedral had been destroyed in a German raid in 1940. I had visited it once as a child, and I knew my mother had once had a holiday in Coventry with a young cousin that lived here.

What I had failed to understand was how much the town had been obliterated in the war. After a blitz that lasted about three months at the end of 1940 and the start of 1941, around 75% of all buildings had been destroyed. The Germans used high explosives to take off the roofs of buildings, and then incendiary devices to burn them down. I went to a blitz museum this week and saw footage, with plucky English folk going about their daily lives, surrounded by devastation.

When my Mum went on that holiday in the early 1950s the town would still have been a wreck. Her aunt Dorothy had lived through it and been bombed out of her home twice. Her husband was in the army in India/Burma at the time so Dorothy would have been so scared.

I am aware that the British were equally guilty of such raids, notably Hamburg in 1943. So this is not about who is right and who is wrong. But it is about how tragic the consequences of war are to real people. Coventry is now a vibrant, modern city, but it made me very sad.