BEAUFRONT Castle, at Sandhoe just north of Hexham, has its fair share of claims to fame.
The tallest beech tree in the UK – all 144 feet of it – stands in its grounds. Its designer, John Dobson, was also the brains behind England’s finest railway station – the classical extravaganza that is Newcastle Central.
But 67 years ago Beaufront Castle stood on the brink of an eternal place in the history of our nation. It all hinged on the battle plans of a certain Herr Hitler.
In the Second World War, if the Nazis had chosen to strike into England from the North, Beaufront Castle would have been the headquarters of the Battle of the Tyne.
If enemy troops and tanks had poured into the heart of England via the great river, Beaufront would have been the scene of dimly-lit ops rooms, huge plotting tables and desperate resistance efforts.
War was declared in September 1939 and by June 1940 Hitler had France in the bag. His eye was bound to turn towards Britain, and every UK shore was on the alert for imminent invasion.
In July, Herr Hitler issued Directive 16. He said:“As England, in spite of the hopelessness of her military position, has so far shown herself unwilling to come to any compromise, I have decided to begin to prepare for an invasion of England... and if necessary the island will be occupied.”
The cocky Fuhrer was confident enough to reveal the date of his invasion launch – Operation Sealion was scheduled to pounce on August 15, 1940. The Nazis hoped that the still-popular war tactic – “shock and awe” – would force British defiance to speedily crumble.
But a general with the encouraging name of Sir Edmund Ironside was put in charge of repelling the Sealion. And the North was ready, with Beaufront earmarked as its nerve centre when the call came.
The main anti-invasion line through Tynedale – called the GHQ Line – passed from Allenheads to Hexham, along Devil's Water to Humshaugh, Wark, Bellingham, Falstone and Kielder, before heading across the Border.
The ringing of church bells, one church alerting the next all down the River Tyne, would be the signal that the enemy had landed. The immediate response was to be the classic “fight them on the beaches” – a thin khaki line of Home Guard plus any available armoured units such as the 35th Army Tank Brigade from Haydon Bridge.
If the invaders managed to get past the doughty Home Guard, they faced a succession of natural and man-made barriers. Hundreds of concrete pillboxes to shelter gunners, and thousands of dragons' teeth to foul tank tracks, were scattered all over Northumberland in the early years of the war.
As soon as the bells tolled, Royal Engineers from the 280th Field Company were programmed to detonate a trail of destruction from Durham up to Hexham and the North Tyne.
Every one of the 100-plus bridges from the Rede Valley to Scotswood would be sacrificed, though the main Newcastle bridges would be defended to the last. Holes for dynamite were drilled in every span, large and small, and some of those drill-holes are still visible in Tynedale bridges today.
The civilian community was prepared to leap into action, using any junk to hand – from old railway sleepers to iron bedsteads – to block key roads and make life difficult for the caterpillar tracks of advancing Panzers.
Roads were to be cratered in 200 pre-planned spots, and ferries – even little ones like the boat at Haughton on the North Tyne – would be scuttled.
The Battle of the Tyne would also involve cutting electricity lines, and shunting locomotives into remote country lines such as those in Tynedale, to be disabled so they could not be used to carry German troops further into England.
Big ammo dumps would be exploded, but small secret ones, possibly like those hidden in woodland bunkers behind Beaufront Castle, would be kept to supply the guerrilla operations of the Northern Resistance.
Harold Learman, who worked at Beaufront from 1953 until 1966, remembers:“Beaufront estate was heavily wooded and a lot of ammunition was hidden there in brick buildings during the War. Many of those bunkers were there in my time, and some may still be there now.”
Meanwhile factory owners throughout the region were also part of the Battle of the Tyne.
They had been given secret codewords such as “daffodil”, “mustard”, “potato” and “mint”, which were signals to disable all machinery on their premises, again to avoid succouring the enemy.
If the Battle of the Tyne had taken place, the local equivalent to Winston Churchill would have been regional commissioner Sir Arthur Lambert.
Presumably from the chosen HQ in Beaufront Castle, Sir Arthur would have controlled both civilian and military affairs in this region if London government had fallen to the Nazis. At Beaufront he would have had handy access to communications via the vital Stagshaw radio transmitter, which broadcast the North Regional Service.
For the best part of five years Beaufront Castle stood ready for its pivotal wartime role.
Present owner Aidan Cuthbert was only a child then, but he recalls his family moving down to Yorkshire because the Government took Beaufront.
There were invasion scares aplenty. An epaulette of German grey was found in a field north of Humshaugh in 1941. A suspicious-looking airman's boot was found near Morpeth, and a possible German parachute was found near Rowlands Gill.
The Battle of the Tyne constantly threatened, but the blow never fell. The Northern Electricity Board made use of Beaufront Castle while it was a wartime HQ in waiting. But later it was discovered that all the frantic planning of 1940 did come terrifyingly close to being needed.
After the war several German plots to invade the North came to light, including Operation Autumn Journey to land troops between Edinburgh and Newcastle, Operation Harpoon North which was a planned invasion between Berwick and Newcastle, and a “cockleshell heroes” type exploit where three motor torpedo boats were to sneak up the Tyne and place mines alongside moored warships.
Perhaps it’s best that Beaufront Castle, the “beautiful brow” in its picturesque setting looking down upon Hexham and Corbridge, was never called upon to be a wartime hero.
Thanks go to local historian Brian Pears for permission to recycle his research.
[Source: Whitehaven News Friday, 09 March 2007]
