This year will mark the 80th anniversary of one of the worst attacks on British civilians in the Second World War, when 168 people were killed after a V2 rocket bomb hit a crowded Woolworth’s store in New Cross on a busy Saturday afternoon. The Greenwich Wire‘s special correspondent MERCURY MAN met the historian trying to piece together the stories of those who died that day.
The Greenwich Wire’s editor is running an even tighter ship under the site’s new name. By all accounts, his “no repeats!” magnet on the office fridge targets me in particular. But I’ve convinced him there’s more than enough room for Goldsmiths professor Tim Crook’s latest marvellous project, dealing the V2 rocket bomb disaster in New Cross of November 25, 1944.
Just like the subject of his last Mercury Man column 18 months ago – his book that led to the BBC drama Mrs Wilson’s Diaries – Tim’s project speaks perfectly and movingly for itself.
Tim is working away on mini-biographies of each and every one of the 160-odd victims of the world’s first long-range guided ballistic missile “because people don’t deserve to be just names and statistics”, even 80 years later.
The V2 rocket bomb that fell from the sky onto the Woolworths and Co-op stores on the New Cross Road that Saturday lunchtime in 1944 became the most devastating Home Front disaster.

Those who died came from across southeast London and beyond – including from Charlton, Kidbrooke, Greenwich, Peckham and East Dulwich – as well as the immediate area. Many of the injured were taken to the Miller General Hospital on Greenwich High Road.
“New Cross experienced mass destruction of buildings and human life,” said Tim. “This catastrophic event happened a stone’s throw from Deptford Town Hall, now owned by Goldsmiths.
“Much has been written about an event which tore the heart out of the local community, largely because so many women and children died. But there is little evidence now of what happened, either by way of commemoration to those who died or in tribute to those who took part in the rescue operation.”
Lewisham Council has a list of those who could be identified, but 23 could not. There are plaques which briefly state: “In memory of the 168 people who died and those injured in one of the worst civilian disasters of the Second World War.”

“People died in Woolworths and the Co-op next door,” said Tim. “An army lorry was overturned and destroyed, and everyone sitting in the number 53 bus and those in the bus queue were struck down.
“This is a new Goldsmiths history work-in-progress investigating and exploring the ancestry and life traces of each and every one of the people who died in the V2 disaster.
“These were people who made up the humanity of New Cross and the wider neighbourhood in 1944. They had heritage and families. They had jobs, lived in homes and had futures. They constituted the very heart of the community. They had voices, dreams, hopes, fears and souls. They were and are much more than mere names and statistics.”

Tim says he has 29 mini-biographies done with about another 125 or so more to do. Those completed include:
Kathleen Alice Adsley, 23, who lived with her father Joseph, mother Alice and older brother Edward at 11 St Norbert’s Green, Brockley. She worked as a dressmaker and was clearly successful in her work because at the relatively young age of 23 she left an estate worth nearly £175, which in today’s values is the equivalent of £10,663.63.
Evelyn Lillian Amos, 16, lived with her parents Frederick and Edith at 1 Cranbrook Road, Deptford. Frederick was a bus conductor and Evelyn’s older brothers William, a coal heaver, and Stanley, a shop assistant, were also living at home.
Frederick William Bailey, 71, like many of those who were killed, lived only a few minutes’ walk away at 13 Jerningham Road. In 1911 he was working as a grocer’s assistant and living with his family at 24 Oareboro Road in Deptford, now the site of Folkestone Gardens. He and his wife Lily had three children, a daughter, Florence,and sons Frederick, 12, and Edwin, ten.
Florence Ethel Banfill, 42, died in the rocket attack along with her son Brian John Banfill, who was only three years old. Her husband Bartholomew was left grieving in nearby 19 Childeric Road.
Tim has much more to do but says: “It would be marvellous if any descendants and relatives of the victims had more information about them which they may like to contribute, including photographs.
“I would be more than happy to add the information to the online profiles as well as correct any inaccuracies that I might have inadvertently been responsible for.”
For more information and to see Tim’s work so far, visit the Goldsmiths History Project. To contact Tim, email t.crook[at]gold.ac.uk.
Mercury Man talks to SE Londoners with interesting tales to tell. Read his past stories.
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