Tyneham & Worbarrow
… where time stopped in 1943
The Guardian, Saturday 30 November 2002
The Village That Died For England
by Patrick Wright
England's green and pleasant land
Patrick Wright on the Dorset village that became an ideological mirror for England
While it still existed, Tyneham was a remote English village, hidden in a fold of the downs overlooking the Dorset coast. It was equipped with largely unexceptional features: a squire in a small Elizabethan mansion, a one-
The villagers surrendered their homes on the understanding that they would be reinstated once the war was over. By 1948, it was the turn of Clement Attlee's Labour government to break "Churchill's pledge", declaring, with reference to the emerging cold war, that Tyneham would have to be retained permanently as part of the Royal Armoured Corps' tank gunnery range. Financial compensation was paid and, since many of the displaced were not property owners, funds were released so that a special council estate ("Tyneham Close") could be built some distance inland.
For some of the displaced this was a satisfactory conclusion. Yet the story did not end there, as I found out while researching The Village that Died for England. Wired off and forbidden to all but the military, Tyneham was remembered by campaigners who tried to free it, or at least improve rights of access to the obstructed coastal footpaths.
There was local agitation in the 1940s and protests were renewed in the late 60s, thanks to the intervention of Rodney Legg, a volatile young campaigner who would go on to become chairman of the Open Spaces Society. His Tyneham Action Group went into action in 1968, prompting the Daily Telegraph, already transfixed by "the events" in Paris and elsewhere, to notify its readers of the emergence of a "militant resistance movement" in Dorset.
In reality Legg had initiated an impossible coalition in which defenders of the traditional Dorset squirearchy tried, and failed, to make common cause with animal welfare and anti-
The story of Churchill's at least partly mythical "pledge", followed by Attlee's "betrayal", ensured Tyneham's persistence as one of the more telling ideological fables of the postwar decades. As the actual village crumbled behind the wire, Tyneham started to glow like Pompeii in the public imagination. Hundreds of newspaper articles evoked it as a pure fragment of England that had, paradoxically, escaped the modernisations of the postwar period. The village may have been extinguished, but at least there had been no widening of its dimpled lanes, no improvement of its fields with pesticides or deep ploughing, no alteration of the school curriculum or the liturgy.
There was a socialist version of this nostalgic legend, in which the dispossessed of Tyneham were identified with the Tolpuddle martyrs, but Dorset's posthumous village had other potentialities too. Conservative England embraced it as the emblem of a deeply settled organic community destroyed by the modern bureaucratic state. There have also been racist elegies, in which Tyneham is imagined as an ancestral England that had never been visited by postwar immigration.
In recent years, the argument over that expropriated valley in Dorset has dwindled. The displaced villagers have nearly all died. Survivors remember how the Ministry of Defence finally ambushed them with the assertion that its soldiers had actually been using their tanks to conserve the blasted heath and downs from an even worse fate: intensive farming, coniferisation and house-
Yet the ideas and values that drove the various battles for Tyneham have not faded away. In the era of the Countryside Alliance, Tyneham is revealed to have been a training ground in a different sense: a testbed not just for tanks but for the brew of clamorous arguments -
The Ghost Of Tyneham
WHEN prolific Dorset author Rodney Legg sat down to write his 60th book, he knew the subject would have to be extra special.
There was only one obvious choice -
Rodney, who was born in Bournemouth and now lives in the hills between Sherborne and Wincanton, founded the Tyneham Action Group with fellow writer Monica Hutchings in 1967.
The group was set up to campaign on behalf of the parishioners who had been evacuated from Tyneham in 1943 in order that the land could be used for the training of American tank crews.
They had been promised they could return home after the conflict, but when post-
From 1967 onwards, they trespassed widely across the Lulworth Ranges, photographing emotive ruins, cutting fences and removing signs.
Eventually, in 1975, a compromise was reached whereby the public were given access to the village at weekends but the Ministry of Defence would retain the ranges.
Rodney has now progressed from active campaigner to nature conservationist and said he was glad the Action Group was only partially successful.
"We achieved unprecedented public access for a live-
"It is the best wildlife reservoir on the whole of the South Coast," he said.
His new book, Tyneham, documents the eviction of the villagers just six days before Christmas, together with a unique archive of 300 photos.
He has spent the last three decades collating material.
He said: "I've now gathered most of the villagers' stories, of sacrifice and sadness, with some satisfaction that the outcome has fossilised a landscape to which their descendants can return, if only as visitors."
Tyneham is published by Dorset Publishing Company on August 9, priced £18.
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