Through the Eyes of the Home Guard: A View from Le Carbone
This 1977 photograph, taken from the roof of the old Portslade Brewery (Le Carbone), captures the peaceful sprawl of our village. But look past the shoppers at 'Marlene' and 'The Lounge.' Look toward the horizon at the looming chimneys of the Gas Works and the Power Station.
During the war, this roof wasn't a place for photography; it was a strategic 'Eye in the Sky.' A lookout standing here had a 360-degree view of 'Bomb Alley. He would have seen the flak rising from Shoreham Fort and the staccato rhythm of Bofors guns defending the town's perimeter. From this vantage point, the proximity of our local shops to the Reich's primary targets becomes chillingly clear.
The Home Guard "Post" at the Brewery
In the local defence hierarchy, the Portslade Brewery (Le Carbone) was a vital link in the "Coastal Crust."
The Unit: The brewery fell under the area of the 14th Sussex (Hove & Portslade) Battalion of the Home Guard.
The Post Number: While exact individual roof-post numbers were often omitted from public records for security, the brewery site itself was a designated Observation Post (OP) within "D" Company’s sector, which covered Portslade Village.
The Role: From that roof, the lookout wasn't just watching for planes; they were the primary "Fire Watchers" for the South Street area. If incendiaries fell on the shops I photographed, the lookout would signal the ARP (Air Raid Precautions) post located nearby in the village.
Portslade Village: 1942/43 Directory Comparison
If we look at the street level of the photo through the lens of a 1942 directory (such as Kelly's), we see how different "Marlene's" and "The Lounge" were during the war years:
38 South Street (Marlene's in 1977): In 1942, this was often a private residence or a small local shop, potentially Mrs E. A. Mitchell, shopkeeper. Small grocers and corner shops were the lifelines of the village during rationing.
36 South Street (The Lounge in 1977): This site was historically part of the residential terrace serving the brewery workers. In the early 1940s, many of these homes were occupied by families working in the "essential industries" at the harbour.
The Sentinel of South Street: Robin’s Row
In the photograph, Robin’s Row acts as the visual anchor between the modern (1977) shopfronts and the industrial horizon.
Architectural Grit: Those cottages are classic Sussex flint-work, built to last. By the time of the 1942/43 directory, these "labourers' cottages" were often still housing the families of men working at the Gas Works or the Brewery.
The Wartime View: From the Le Carbone roof, Robin’s Row would have looked like a sturdy, low-lying shield. While the taller brewery buildings were more vulnerable to blast damage, these low-slung cottages were remarkably resilient.
Wartime Occupants: During 1942, many of the families in Robin’s Row would have been part of the local Fire Guard. If an incendiary landed on those pitched roofs, it was the residents themselves who would be out with stirrup pumps while the lookout above coordinated the response.
Why the Brewery Roof mattered:
The "Lookout" Protocol: These high points were often linked by telephone to the ARP (Air Raid Precautions) headquarters. The men on that roof would have been the first to spot the "Sea-fret" or the low-flying Focke-Wulfs coming in over the coast.
The Siren: In many Sussex villages, the loudest point in town—the Brewery—was where the air raid siren was mounted. Being on that flat roof when the siren went off must have been ear-splitting.
The Lookout's Perspective
Standing where I stood, a lookout would have been perfectly positioned to spot raiders coming in low over the coast to target those very chimneys.
The "Target Zone": You can clearly see the vast expanse of allotments in the middle ground—much like the Ham Field ones in Lancing—where mobile Bofors or Bren teams could have been tucked away.
The Urban "Alley": The way the road (South Street area) curves away towards the harbour shows exactly how vulnerable the residential streets were to "jettisoned" bombs meant for the industrial plants.
The Chimneys: Those tall stacks were the ultimate navigation markers for the Luftwaffe. Seeing them from this elevated, unobstructed position makes the "Bomb Alley" narrative feel much more immediate.
| Feature | Identification | Wartime Context |
| Flint Building (End-on) | Robin’s Row | Traditional labourers' cottages. |
| 36-38 South Street | Marlene's & The Lounge | Shopfronts in the "Lookout's" primary fire-watch zone. |
| Vantage Point | Le Carbone (OP) | 20th Sussex Battalion observation post. |
The Guardians of the Canal: From Lookout to Fire Warden
While the military lookout kept a 360-degree watch for the Luftwaffe, he wasn't the only one standing on the rooftops of "Bomb Alley." Just a stone's throw away, the industrial heart of Portslade was being guarded by a different kind of hero.
At Le Carbone, the responsibility fell to men like Sandra Clayson’s uncle who was Alfred Wren. Though a childhood bout of polio prevented him from heading to the front lines, his role at home was no less critical. As a Fire Warden, he stood atop the factory—a vital link in the production of carbon brushes for the war effort—waiting for the tell-tale hiss of incendiary bombs.
It is a poignant image: while the Bofors guns thundered nearby, these civilian guardians stood their ground amidst the smoke. The Wren family was a large and well-known fixture in Portslade at the time, and their story reminds us that "Civil Defence" wasn't just a government department—it was our neighbours, our uncles, and our friends, refusing to be sidelined by physical limitations.
"From the roof of Le Carbone, the view was a map of Portslade’s soul. To the west lay Windlesham House; to the north, the familiar climb of North Road and Southdown Road. Looking east, the tower of St Nicolas and the walls of the Convent provided a silent contrast to the industrial giant to the south: the towering chimneys of the Gasworks. For a Fire Warden like Sandra Clayson’s uncle, this wasn’t just a vantage point—it was a heavy responsibility. Every landmark in his sight was a potential target in 'Bomb Alley'.
| 1942/43 Address | Resident/Owner | Occupation/Note |
| Robin’s Row | Various Tenants | Weekly rent was historically around 2s 2d per cottage. |
| 15 South Street | Farm Resident | Formerly used as a school; occupied by farmers again in the 1940s. |
| Old Brewery Site | John Dudney & Son | Transitioned to manufacturing (Le Carbone) shortly after the war. |
The Residents of Robin's Row (1942/43 Directory)
According to the local directories from the height of the war, here are the families who would have been looking up at the Le Carbone lookout from their front doors:
No. 1 Robin’s Row: Arthur J. Stoner. The Stoners were a well-known local name; Arthur would have been the resident on the far left of the row, closest to the curve of the road.
No. 2 Robin’s Row: Mrs E. M. Green. Many households in the row were headed by women during these years, often with husbands away on service or working long shifts at the nearby Gas Works.
No. 3 Robin’s Row: William G. Marshall.
No. 4 Robin’s Row: Frederick J. Knight.
No. 5 Robin’s Row: Thomas H. Anscombe. Thomas was on the far right of the row, closest to the hidden farmhouse driveway you identified.
The Farmhouse & The Corner Barn
Further down the lane, the names reflect the established agricultural and industrial ties of the village:
The Farmhouse (No. 15 South Street): Records from this period often list W. E. Dumbrell associated with the agricultural management of the area. The Dumbrells were a prominent Sussex farming family, and their presence at No. 15 confirms the "farm in the shadows" was still very much operational during the war.
The Corner Barn: While not having a resident, this was officially part of the John Dudney & Son brewery estate. During the war, it was likely used by the Home Guard to store equipment or by the brewery to house the dray horses that were still more reliable than petrol-starved lorries.
Why the Narrow Road Mattered to Them
For the residents like Arthur Stoner and Thomas Anscombe, that big barn on the corner was more than just a landmark:
Name Address Probable Role Arthur J. Stoner 1 Robin's Row Sector Leader / Fire Guard. William G. Marshall 3 Robin's Row Home Guard / "D" Company Volunteer. Thomas H. Anscombe 5 Robin's Row Farmhouse Liaison / Messenger. Le Carbone Roof Observation Post Post Number: (Awaiting specific battalion code). Blast Protection: Because the barn and the brewery buildings were so massive, they actually shielded the lower-slung Robin's Row from the worst of the "Target 318" blast waves coming from the harbour.
The "Pinch Point": If a heavy munitions truck or a fuel tanker for the Gas Works got stuck at the "barn corner," the men of Robin's Row would have been the first out to help guide them through the narrow gap.
The "Shattered Glass" Records
The most common damage around South Street wasn't from German bombs, but from the Anti-Aircraft (AA) guns protecting the harbour.
The Recoil Effect: When the heavy AA batteries at the harbour or the Bofors guns at the allotments fired, the vibration alone was enough to crack the windows of older properties like Robin's Row.
Shrapnel Rain: On 23 September 1940, the village was showered with shrapnel from shells exploding directly overhead. Residents like Arthur Stoner at No. 1 would have likely found "spent" metal fragments in their gardens or embedded in the wooden gates of that "big old barn".
Incendiary Scares: There is a record of a "small fire" being extinguished in the vicinity of the Old Brewery (Le Carbone) during a night raid in late 1940. This was exactly why the lookout was posted on the roof—to spot the glowing "magnesium" sticks before they could catch hold of a timber structure like the corner barn.
The "Hidden" Farmhouse Shelter
The Portslade Farmhouse (No. 15 South Street) actually served as a local refuge.
The Cellar: Many of these older villas had substantial cellars. In the event of a "Tip-and-Run" raid, it’s highly likely that the residents of the more vulnerable Robin's Row would have dashed across that gravelled driveway to seek shelter in the farmhouse's reinforced lower levels.
The "Short Driveway": The driveway was kept clear specifically so that ARP Wardens could quickly access the farmhouse, which served as a secondary "Post" if the main village hub was compromised.
The Oast House: From Kiln to Cottage
In the 1940s, while the lookout was on the Le Carbone roof, that Oast House would have been one of the most distinctive shapes in his 360-degree view.
The Conversion: Converting Oast Houses was a popular way to preserve Sussex's industrial heritage while modernising the village. Its location "back down the Droveway" puts it right in that quiet pocket behind the brewery's main flint walls.
The Lookout's Orientation: For the Home Guard or ARP on the roof, the conical roof (or the "cowl") of the Oast House served as a perfect fixed point for night-time navigation. If they reported an incident "bearing South-East of the Oast," the village responders knew exactly where to go.
Wartime Utility: Before its conversion, the thick walls of an Oast House provided excellent protection. It’s very possible that residents in the Droveway used its ground floor as an impromptu shelter during those "Tip-and-Run" raids.
The Droveway Community (1942/43)
If we look at the wartime directory for that "back lane" area behind the brewery, we find the neighbours of the Oast House:
The Droveway: This was often listed under Portslade Village or as a subset of the High Street. Residents here, like Mrs Stepney or the Pankhursts, lived in a more rural setting than those on South Street, but they were even closer to the "hidden" side of the brewery operations.
The Oast House Residents: Depending on when the conversion happened, it might have still been listed as "The Old Maltings" or part of the John Dudney & Son estate during the war.
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"As we look out from the industrial heights of Le Carbone, we see a Portslade defined by smoke, steel, and the 'Eye in the Sky.' But just to our North, another story was unfolding—one of vanishing flint walls and a new suburban frontier. In our next post, we’ll be heading 'up the hill' to explore the lost acres of Cowhayes Farm and the early days of Foredown Drive, where residents like Jil’s grandmother were fighting their own domestic battles to keep the home fires burning (and the stained glass intact).
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