This is the story of the part my grandfather, (Cyril) Bertram Rota, or CBR as he was known to his bookshop staff (my father, Anthony Bertram Rota was referred to as ABR), played in the Second World War.
He died when I was four years old and was rarely around – I do not remember him. But I have heard very entertaining tales of a bon viveur and a ‘ladies’ man’ with a penchant for cigars or a pipe and fine wine.
As we recall on our website, in 1923, just before his twentieth birthday, Bertram Rota started bookselling on the Charing Cross Road. From 1918 he had apprenticed to his uncles Percy and Arthur Dobell, in their father Bertram Dobell’s bookshop which dated back to 1876. From the outset, he specialised in Modern First Editions, a field that he virtually invented and subsequently made his own. Indeed, the Oxford English Dictionary gives a Bertram Rota catalogue (158) as a source for one meaning of the word ’modern’.
Twenty three catalogues were issued from Davies Street (1927-1934) and a further seventeen from Old Burlington Street until in 1937 he moved into a premises in Vigo Street, formerly the offices of John Lane. This address was where, at the sign of the Bodley Head, the Yellow Book and many other 1890s classics had first appeared, and whence the first Penguin metaphorically took flight in 1935. In spite of sustaining a direct hit during the blitz, this bookshop was to be home for the next twenty-eight years.
An e-mail from Denis Pellerin, “Photo historian, researcher, author, keynote speaker, Co-curator of the Brian May Archive of Stereoscopy, Co-director of Sir Brian May’s London Stereoscopic Company” had me scurrying up into the loft to retrieve whatever I could find about his wartime service. I knew the medal was there but I had forgotten that there is also a sheaf of papers and other items, some of which Bertram should certainly not have kept. But I am glad he did. Generally, people who worked in places like Bletchley Park never talked about their experiences even long after the war was over. Denis told me of two sisters who worked in the same place but had no idea, ever, that the other worked there too. Information and especially hard copy like this is thin on the ground.
Bertram carried out his duties mostly at R.A.F. Medmenham in Buckinghamshire but also at a secret location in London. Medmenham was, from April 1941, home to the R.A.F. photographic interpretation unit (PIU), later expanded and renamed the Central Interpretation Unit, which was involved in many aspects of war planning. It was particularly successful thanks to the use of stereoscopic aerial photographs.
Bertram’s particular job was to examine such photographs and to indicate the best potential targets for bombing as well as sifting information arriving by radio, secret agent and air reconnaisance. It seems that he excelled at it and he was awarded this medal, the Liberty Cross, the Frihetskors, for his services, by King Haakon I of Norway in 1947. Below too is the envelope in which it was sent to him at his flat at G.1. Albany (coincidentally, my brother Gavin held his stag night at another of those flats).
Amongst the papers is this news cutting from the Evening Standard celebrating the honour bestowed upon him. In one of them he comments, “Norwegians are the people who should get much of the praise for this. They are calm and fearless. One day the underground told us that the plan of a vital factory was in the top right-hand drawer of a general’s desk in Oslo. The young Norwegian who brought me the news merely said, ‘O.K., I’ll get it.’ He walked out as though he was going to change a library book. Within a few days, he returned and handed over the document with a curt, ‘Here it is.’ The factory was then bombed and the Germans deprived of raw materials.” In a letter mentioned below he describes Norwegians as “great fellows to work with.”
Together with the cuttings are letters and a telegram of congratulation as well as secretarial notes of telephone calls received, the telegram and one of those calls on the subject from the controversial author Montague Summers. One of the letters, by Howard Bliss, in an interesting twist given my interests, is on the letterhead of The League Against Cruel Sports. I had no idea that the President at the time was none other than Edith Sitwell. Years later when my father was at the helm of Bertram Rota Limited, we were to handle the sale of many letters and manuscripts by Edith Sitwell as well as those of her two brothers in that extraordinary literary family, Osbert and Sacheverell, in the last case we sold his entire archive, and even some papers by their father Sir George Sitwell.
There is also a typed letter from 1948 by W. Percival, the Head Master of Hornsey County School – Bertram was an Old Hornseyan – congratulating him and inviting him to attend a “Prize Distribution”. He mentions being co-author of the book English: A Handbook for the Foreigner and discusses his enthusiasm for the possibility of a new, auxiliary, artificial language hoping that the old pupil would be willing to take copies of a book on that subject on sale.
The best-known such languages are probably Volapük and Esperanto, but this is Mondial, created by Dr Helge Heimer. It was well reviewed but not terribly successful. Wikipedia gives this example, which Bertram would have enjoyed, with a translation:
Tristan Bernard, le autor humoristique, havi un dia prendate place con un amico in un vagon de primer clase por andar a Versalies. Il alumavi imediatemente un bon cigar, que il comenzavi da fumar con visible satisfacion. Alor un senior entravi i dicavi in un ton iritante a Tristan Bernard da gectar le cigar o da andar in un altere compartimente. Nul response. Le senior inconosate repeta su demande, ma in van. Fuor se de indignacion, il precipita se fuor del compartimente i returna algue momentes dopo con le conductor.
“Cel senior ha nulo da dicar ci”, dicavi alor Tristan Bernard, “il ha un biliete de secunde clase, i cil e le primer clase.” Confuse i furiose, le pasagero devavi presentar su biliete al conductor i acompaniar lui imediatemente a un compartimente de secunde clase. Cuando li havi andate se, le amico de Tristan Bernard questionavi lui come il havi povate savar que lo evi un biliete de secunde clase.
“Il saliavi del poche de sui gilete”, respondavi Tristan Bernard, i yo vidavi que il evi del mem color que le mi.”
Tristan Bernard, the humorist, one day sat with a friend in a first-class carriage to Versailles. He immediately lit a good cigar, which he began to smoke with visible satisfaction. Then, a gentleman entered and told Tristan Bernard, in an irritating tone, to put out his cigar or to go to another compartment. No response. The gentleman, becoming angry, repeated his request, but in vain. Beside himself with indignation, he quickly left the compartment and returned several moments later with the conductor.
“This gentleman has nothing to say here,” said Tristan Bernard then; “he has a second-class ticket, and this is first class.” Confused and angry, the passenger had to present his ticket to the conductor and accompany him immediately to a second-class compartment. When they had gone, Tristan Bernard’s friend asked him how he could have known that the other passenger had a second-class ticket.
“It came out of his vest pocket,” answered Tristan Bernard, “and I saw that it was the same color as mine.”
In his reply to Mr Percival, Bertram says that he finds Mondial of great interest and ingenious: “…as the veriest tyro I find myself able to interpret nearly all the phrases.” He continues: “Literature and Languages were my own chief enthusiasms at school and each new aspect of these inexhaustible subjects continues to enchant me.” The fruit does not fall far from the tree, or as my father put it in the title of his autobiographical work about his life as a bookseller, there are clearly Books in the Blood.
This beautiful copy, not commissioned but purchased on sight, was specially bound by the designer-binder Marianne Harwood with the gold circles of course symbolising blood cells. It is pictured here nestled in the middle of our bound run of our catalogues from 1923 to, almost, the present.
Of course as a specialist in first editions and rare books he was unable to help with distributing or selling Percival’s book but he recommends more suitable avenues. He also responds warmly to Percival’s promising to send “More of our homemade music.” Bertram was, on top of everything else, a jazz drummer.
He is extremely and charmingly modest about the medal: “I am afraid a great deal too much has been made of the Norwegian decoration, but I must admit I find it a pleasant souvenir of years which had their compensations as well as their trials.”
Correspondence with the Air Ministry is of course more formal. There are two letters from the Ministry about the wish to confer the award and the King’s eventual approval of it, a carbon copy of Bertram’s acknowledgement of receipt sent to the Under Secretary of State and a carbon copy of his letter to the Minister of Defence in Oslo, in which he writes: “May I say how much I appreciate this honour and shall treasure the handsome souvenir of the war years in which I had the privilege of serving with your countrymen, whose conduct and courage in adversity and triumph alike I so much admired. Permit me to send the most sincere good wishes for your country’s peace and prosperity.” Also present is the complete issue of The London Gazette, 23 January 1948, in which the award is recorded as is the recipient’s status as a volunteer – he must have been just over the maximum age for conscription but gave these years of his life nonetheless.
Bertram’s R.A.F. pocket diary for 1942, which he definitely should not have retained, is a rich source. It was stored in an envelope labelled “Bertram’s Diaries” but this is the only survivor. If it ever had covers, which I assume it did, they have gone the way of all flesh – it is now disbound and it is incomplete, ending in August. It is actually “The Royal Air Force and Dominion Air Forces Diary”, printed and published, by permission of the Air Ministry, by Gale & Polden Ltd. The printed contents alone, of which there are 64 pages, are fascinating and remind me of nothing so much as the Pears Cyclopedia and similar publications which I adored as a child. We Rotas do like lists. So much so that since my original copy is long since lost, I have just ordered a copy of the final edition of 2017-2018. It will be quite the trip down memory lane.
Bertram gives his name, address and R.A.F. number, 107707, on the “This Diary Belongs to …” page. The contents page is followed by details of the organisation of the R.A.F., including overseas commands, and of the Dominion Air Forces of Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa with their insignia. Then there are diagrams of the “Pennons displayed by High Officers and Commanders of Units; and the corresponding combinations of coloured lights used at night”: light blue, red and light blue for the Marshal of the Royal Air Force for example. Next, a list of ranks for all three services and illustrations of their badges, then officers’ cap peaks and other badges, badges of rank and “distinctive badges” worn by airmen. Lists of individuals awarded the Victoria Cross between 1915 and 1941, Secretaries of State for Air, 1918 to 1940, and Chiefs of Air Staff, 1918 to 1940 follow.
There is so much more: decorations, prizes, competitions, scholarships, cadetships, educational and other funds, including the R.A.F. Benevolent Fund are described in detail, and an advertisement for the uniforms supplied by Burberry who were situated on the Haymarket as they are today. The Women’s Auxiliary Air Force is given two pages with information on services, trades and ranks and another page is devoted to the W.R.A.F. Old Comrades’ Association.
Then come the facts and figures:
International Standard Atmosphere, temperature, pressure and density at up to 60,000 feet.
The Beaufort Scale of Wind Force – this rather poetic scale is well-known but I did not know of the Scale of Visibility, which ranges from Dense fog to Excellent visibility via Thick Fog, just Fog, Moderate fog, Mist or haze and so on.
My favourite is the Douglas Sea and Swell Scale which seems worth listing in full. There is surely a touch of humour at work in the last two categories:
Calm, Smooth, Slight, Moderate, Rough, Very rough, High, Very High, Precipitous, Confused.
There are tables giving length in miles of a quarter of a degree of latitude and longitude and various conversion tables. Formulae “in common use” include those relating to the bending of beams, struts, melting points, Young’s modulus (a rather complex measure of tensile or compressive stiffness), the expansion of metals and even the Greek alphabet makes its appearance. Also given are decimal equivalents of fractions, Morse number and letter drill sizes, drilling and reaming lubricants, drilling speeds and sizes for reaming, allowable shear stresses for a variety of magnetic and non-magnetic materials, and physical constraints of various metals and alloys. There is a list of residential leave centres in London, followed by advertisements for Firth Vickers’ “Rustless Steel for Airframe and Hull Construction” and Gieves Limited outfitters on Piccadilly.
A list of war gases crucially details description, smell and visible signs, immediate and subsequent effects and first aid recommended. Finally four pages of silhouettes “of the most important British and German aircraft with particulars of their functions and characteristics. All German aircraft likely to be seen over this country are included.” Examples are the Messerschmitt 109, “Low-wing monoplane square-cut wings” and the Messerschmitt 110, “Twin-engine Fighter, Low-wing monoplane” and the Junkers 87B, “Dive Bomber, Single engine, Low-wing monoplane…”
Bertram wrote seventeen telephone numbers on the relevant page before the diary proper begins, all of them crossed through but not so as to be illegible, some of the exchanges being Henley, Windsor, Marlow and Wargrave.
The diary entries themselves are short. The first refers to Speakers House Bookshop. Afterwards they mostly note that the writer must be in London or Medmenham, or is on leave. There is an intriguing reference to “Commercial weapons, May 7… ” and there are other more cryptic entries.
A small quarto notebook abounds with information and notes relating to Bertram’s day-to-day work and experiences.
I will not even attempt to summarise it here but do intend to make a transcription or scan and publish it at a later date, likewise a manuscript summary of his wartime days, a three-page typescript sent to Squadron Mearles entitled “Liaison with Allies”, covering Norway, Denmark, the U.S.A., France and the U.S.S.R., a letter from an ex-colleague from Army Air Forces Headquarters in Washington, copies of three typed letters marked “SECRET” to Squadron Leader Verity and Group Captain G.W.P. Grant, one mentioning excellent work by Flying Officer Rota “in the collection of information and intelligence for the attack on the Molybdenum Mine, Knaben. The success for this attack is in no small measure due to the information made available for the crews who carried out the operation.”, with a related document, a letter of congratulations from Verity to Bertram, a photocopy of of a document sent to various officers including F/Lt. Rota entitled “Bomb Target Illustrations”, correspondence about a borrowed Baedeker, a letter of thanks to F/Lt. C.B. Rota from the Chief of the Air Staff sent to many others at the end of the war, a typed note signed by the Air Commodore and Director of Intelligence (Operations) authorising him to travel in American aircraft B.17 or B.24 during a specific period, a typed draft and printed version of a piece about the importance of improved standards of printing, a job entrusted by H.M.S.O. to Messrs. John Swain & Son (what an elegant letterhead), and a nine-page signed carbon typescript of Bertram’s “Appendix I Annex (a) Part (ii) The Work of The German Section”, together with a pencilled list in his hand of officers’ names and ranks in “T.G. Section (Germany…)”
Additionally to all of this there are ten original marked-up maps produced from photographs, used by Bertram, a photograph of Bielefeld Viaduct after the attack by Bomber Command on March 14th 1945 (Sortie number 1066/4874), and a copy of The Sunday Times, 25th July, 1943, which includes an article by Air Correspondent Peter Masefield, headlined “Precision Bombing by Daylight, America’s Contribution To Allied Air Supremacy”.
Finally, in two folders stamped “Secret” in red ink and with blue ink Air Ministry stamps are two jeux d’esprit.
The first, with its folder bearing the words “Offensive Operations, Appendices I to XI” comprises a series of caricatures of and clerihews about eleven officers and colleagues, created by “C.B.R. and R.G.L.”, the latter probably the Major Lawson who like Bertram is one of the subjects. This was produced for Christmas 1942 and I will transcribe and reproduce it along with the rest listed above. A mischievous note at the beginning sets the tone: “No character in this book is imaginary and all the libels it contains are perpetrated with malice aforethought.”
The caricature of CBR.
The second produced for the following Christmas consists of humorous poems by the same hand, which will also be published in due course.
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