The Ubiquitous Pillboxes

Growing up and living in the East of England, pillboxes have been an ever present feature of the landscape. These remnants of Second World War, slowly disappearing from and into the landscape. As a child of the 1970’s and 80’s they made perfect bases for our war games, with Cold War NATO jets flying training sorties low overhead. As I grew into a man, these became reminders of childlike wonder and excitement, as well as an anchor back to time our country faced the threat of invasion from continental Europe.

As a member of Chris Sale’s One Landscape photography group, we undertake monthly photography challenges and in February 2024 we were challenged to create “… a photo featuring something that might be considered a blot on the landscape. Is it art or simply an eyesore? That is up for debate!”. I immediately thought of a photo I captured on my phone, while out running a few years ago, of a Fenland pillbox at dawn.

While pillboxes are not what I would describe as “a blot”, with many even declaring that they are “symbols of our finest hour”, I can see how these strange and dilapidated concrete structures can look at odds with the natural landscapes they sit within. For that reason I felt that they could make the perfect subject for this challenge and so I headed back out to the scene of my previous photograph, with my big camera.

While I didn’t get the mist and fog forecast during my second visit, I was still pleased with my submission and it reignited my interest and curiosity about these buildings. I was keen to find out more about them and explore the photographic opportunities they may provide.

Doing some online research I soon discovered that what I once thought were bunkers dotted around the landscape for the Home Guard, were in fact part of a more strategic initiative to counter any invasion should it come.

As the threat of German invasion loomed large in 1940, Britain embarked on an ambitious program to fortify its coastlines and strategic locations with a network of these hardened defenses. The term "pillbox" itself is believed to have originated from their perceived resemblance to cylindrical medicine containers used to store pills in at that time.

Interestingly the first record of the use of concrete pillboxes was by the German army on the Western Front during the First World War. Strange then that these structures should then be used as a means of defense against the same army just a few decades later.

As you would expect, these small, concrete structures were designed to provide cover for soldiers, with loopholes (small slits in the wall) to fire weapons through, allowing the occupants to remain concealed while engaging the enemy. What you may not know is that they come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes - round, square, hexagonal, single story or multiple stories. Different variants were also created to accommodate larger anti-tank weaponry, for example. What they did all share was the common purpose to create a series of formidable defensive lines to impede the progress of any invading force.

Rather than being randomly placed as I had assumed, their construction during the Second World War was part of a larger defensive strategy, which proposed the establishment of a “defensive crust” along the coastline, backed by a system of long defensive lines further inland, which made use of natural features of the landscape.

It was argued that these “stops and strong-points" could prevent the invading force from "running riot and tearing the guts out of the country." The inland lines would also act as corrals within which enemy troops could be held and become targets of a counter offensive by Allied Troops. By 1941, an estimated 28,000 pillboxes had been built across Britain, with many concentrated along the perceived vulnerable east coast.

While the anticipated German invasion never came, pillboxes have become an enduring symbol of Britain's resilience during World War 2. Approximately 25% of these structures still dot our landscape, serving as reminders of our nation's determination to defend its shores at all costs. Some have even found new uses, repurposed as storage sheds, bat roosts, and even an open-air theatre box office. Many have also succumbed to coastal erosion or have sadly been sealed, including many I used to play in as a child.

After my first visit and research, I am keen to explore more of these sites during my photographic exploration of the country. While the exterior of them provide some good photographic compositions, when you can access the interiors, it opens a wealth of opportunities for more intimate shots and the discovery of some weird and wonderful items within them.

While many pillboxes are centered around the East of England and southern coast, you a find these across the country. Steve Thompson’s excellent online interactive map makes planning trips like these really straight forward, and I would encourage everyone to take some time to visit and discover more about these relics from our past.

I have since photographed a number of locations and am not sure where this journey will take me. Maybe it will form a larger project over time but for now, I will continue to add photos below as I visit new locations.

Southery, Norfolk.

A sunrise visit to this pillbox, beside the A10 just outside Southery.

Watton, Norfolk.

A quick visit to one of my old dens from my childhood. A real shame to find it now locked but understandable considering the rubbish and damage inside. Special interest for this one is that originally had two stories.

Brandon Creek, Norfolk.

Less than a mile from the Southery site (see above) stands this larger one closer to the river, which most likely housed anti-tank weaponary. Some interesting items abandoned inside, which made for some nice compositions. Still unsure which I prefer when it comes to the black and white or colour compositions.

Holme-next-the-sea, Norfolk.

A family walk through the dunes at Holme on the Norfolk coast led me to a number of bunkers and pillboxes. The harsh sunlight meant that black and white was the best approach here. Most were blocked off or so buried that I could only manage exterior shots. Had an interesting chat with a gentleman who had also done some research. Those set back from the beach were actually orientated to face inland. This was to counter the threat of parachute or glider landing of troops onto the salt flats behind the beach, which itself would have been heavily fortified to protect slow a landing from the sea. The Allies of course used a similar approach during the D-day landings some years later.