A terrible night of destruction

Janet Allinson recounts the terrible night of January 31, 1953 – when the sea wreaked havoc in North Lincolnshire

APART from biting off-shore winds, there had been nothing extraordinary about Saturday, January 31 1953.

By early evening the day had unfolded much as any other for the Mablethorpe and Sutton on Sea communities. Farmers bedded down stock for the night. Workers returned home tired and hungry.

Children were bathed in the tin tub in front of a roaring winter fire.

Teenagers were getting ready to go dancing at the Trelawney ballroom, their typical Saturday night routine.

But Saturday night was about to become anything but typical.

At about 5.30pm a moaning north westerly wind gained in strength. Blackness swamped the two small towns and people hurried to the warmth of home.

Coal scuttles were filled, fires were stoked and curtains drawn. Families settled down to a night indoors.

But natureís forces were already deciding the fate of the two communities. By 7pm temperatures had plummeted. High seas were over-reaching the east coastís concrete armour.

The wind became a howling gale, hurling its might at the north sea. At around 7.30 pm, a north westerly gust wrenched a grey wave from the turbulent mass of surging water.

The impact smashed through thousands of tons of concrete sea defences, as though it were pastry. The power of the north sea was loose and heading straight for Mablethorpe and Sutton on Sea.

No emergency flood warnings had been issued and inhabitants were quite unprepared for the disaster which was to follow.

Innocently, householders fetched cloths and mops to soak up the water as it seeped under their doors. But their efforts were futile against the sheer mass of water which was to come.The famous swell, which some have described as if the sea had become the sky, must have been a terrifying sight, especially for those caught outside in such perilous weather conditions.

Imagine an icy wind so strong it could knock a man off his feet, an intense blackness and the roaring scream of gale force winds.

The sight of such an immense wall of water, combined with such hostile elements must have seemed like the end of the world to those who witnessed it. With the passing of time, it is easy to forget the sheer horror many endured that night.

Many lost parents, children, friends and some lost their own lives. For those who found a place of safety to wait while the storm blew out its anger and the waters subsided, it was a long night, full of apprehension.

Many homes were without electricity by now, bringing darkness and intense cold.

Huddling in upstairs rooms and lofts the entire community waited together.

Faces bleached by the moon and tired from their ordeal, peered from upstairs rooms as the sea and wind tore at their homes.

Some heard their property, and only means of safety, being torn away from around them.

One couple found half the downstairs section of their house had disappeared the following morning. It was a miracle they had escaped.

When rescue came the next day, people were pulled through holes in their roofs, climbed down banks of sand from upstairs windows and emerged to see the carnage.

Where roads and familiar landmarks had once been was a landscape of sand and debris.

The joy of being alive can well be imagined, but after that fleeting moment of relief, the fear of wondering who had not made it must have been an over-powering emotion.

Certainly, these close communities would never be the same again.

Tons of concrete sea defence were broken up like pastry.

A waterlogged journey past the Louth Hotel, Mablethorpe.

A resident stares in disbelief. Streets remained flooded as incoming tides continued to flow in through the breached sea defences.

The Army arrives to help with the massive rescue and clear-up operation.

What a daunting sight these mounds of sands which engulfed properties must have been to those who helped clear it.

Sutton on Sea resident Norah Walkington in what remained of her home.

An anonymous poem written in Mablethorpe during the Great Flood

A TEDDYBEAR, its owner crying, marked the reach of last nightís tide,

Muddy, watersodden, lying at the puddled pavement side,

Where, a mile from battered sea walls, gale blown water came to town,

Wrecking locked up seaside tea stalls, sweeping walls and railings down.

Lookouts late on Wednesday morning, in their northern coastguard posts,

Gave, most urgently, the warning - eveningís tide may pound our coast!

Telephones relayed the message, not a momentís time to lose,

North east winds which blew at gale force past the Humberís gaping mouth,

Rushed to fill a deep depression over North Sea further South.

While the earth in contrary motion spun, presenting stubborn face,

Causing maritime commotion, met the tideís relentless race.

Police cars, with loud speakers blaring, told the people what might come,

Employers with human caring sent their workers early home.

Folk in lowest-lying quarters blocked up doors and airbricks first,

Mothers, fathers, sons and daughters prepared quickly for the worst.

Every hand that could be mustered, working fast in groups and pairs,

Apprehensive, frightened, flustered, carried furniture upstairs.

But the wind-surged waters beat them as they rushed to clear ground floors,

Flowing down the streets to meet them, lapping at their bolted doors.

Creeping in through sand-bagged doorways, floating carpets where they lay,

Seeping in and finding more ways, up through floorboards forcing way.

Cold salt water, wind-excited, forming rivulets and flumes,

Entered rudely, uninvited, upwards of a thousand homes.

All the heartache and frustration only one whoís suffered knows,

Shedding tears in consternation as the water level rose.

In each home, each English castle, prized possessions soon afloat,

Tragically beleaguered castles with communal swirling moat!

After eveningís hardfought battle, aching to their finger ends,

Tired folk left home to paddle to relationsí homes, or friendsí.

There to stay until the morning, knowing they could do no more,

Than to accept, come the dawning, life must go on as before.

Now the child was re-united with her treasured teddy bear,

Brightened, tear-washed eyes delighted as she smoothed its muddy fur.

Parentsí heavy homeward paces splashed the puddled pavement side,

Sunken eyes in weary faces marked the reach of last nightís tide.

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