Preparations for Invasion

When the Germans occupied France in the summer of 1940 Brighton became a front-line town under direct threat of invasion from the sea. As part of their general invasion of England German planners considered a parachute landing on the South Downs to cover a seaborne attack on Brighton.

On the British side plans were made to defend Brighton and evacuate the town if the Germans invaded. Bank staff were informed that, if the Germans landed during office hours, they would not be able to contact their families, but would be evacuated with the bank's money and papers on a special train from Brighton Station. Individual citizens were told that when the invasion was signalled by the ringing of church bells, they should keep off the roads (to free them for military traffic) and walk towards London wearing bright clothing, so they would not be shot by mistake as advancing German soldiers. The ill-armed Home Guard and army must have waited anxiously behind the barbed wire and mines planted along Brighton sea front, until the summer of 1941, when the Germans marched east against the Russians and the threat of invasion was lifted.
Michael Corum in Brighton behind the Front

Life went on as usual. The war did not seem to touch us as much as I expected. There was a temporary lull before the Battle of Britain. At the very beginning we were all keyed up for the worst and faithfully carried our gas masks everywhere. When the air raid sirens wailed out we allowed ourselves to be shepherded into the nearest air raid shelters by vigilant ARP wardens, and sat there in the musty corridors until the all-clear sounded. But as the weeks passed by with nothing happening, when the sirens sounded they were mostly ignored by the people who continued on with their lives. Sandbags could be seen everywhere, especially around important buildings like the town hall and police station, and pillboxes were erected in prime positions. Windows were criss-crossed with paper to protect against bomb blast.

The beaches had been mined and barricaded with barbed wire, which stretched for miles along the coast. Even the two beautiful piers had been blown up in the middle. I never saw the logic of that demolition. In the pre-war days I had loved to wander on the piers, even though you had to pay to get on. I loved it especially at night when they lit up the sky with a myriad of twinkling lights. Now, all that had gone, along with the gaiety and fun. All we were left with was the blackout.
Kathleen Wilson - International Service

You couldn't go on the beach, but there weren't any mines, to my knowledge. We didn't take the boats out. The fishing boat that I took over was pulled up on the fishmarket beach, and there it died. It just rotted away.

And underneath the walk, along by the Aquarium, there was big, massive tanks of petrol, ready to roll into the sea, to set the sea alight in case of invasion. I suppose they must have held about ten thousand gallons. They were all the way along underneath the promenade.
George Heffaran in Brighton behind the Front