蜜芽传媒

Experiences of an Evacuee

By John Knight

Chapter One: Evacuation to 鈥淏omb Alley鈥�

I need to start by describing my family. My Mother and Father had six children, four girls and two boys.
Three of my sisters were older than me and one younger; my brother was also younger than I was. We lived in Deptford, a south eastern borough of London.
Three weeks before the outbreak of the war my father, who was in the Territorial Army, was posted to Dymchurch in Kent, on the 1st of September my brother and I were taken direct from school to the station and put on a train to Rye in Sussex, and two sisters were taken from their school and put on a train to Battle near Hastings. Thus within three weeks my mother found her family unit had been reduced to three, my eldest sister, Edith who had just started working, and my youngest sister, Monica of two years and herself.

Before we were taken to the station we were labelled with our name and destination, and checked to see that we had our cases and gas masks, very little time was spent in 鈥榞oodbyes鈥�, it was by necessity a very rushed departure.

Even after all these years the memories of that train journey and the first day in Rye are still very vivid, for as a 10 year old I did not know anything of Rye or even where it was. It should be noted that that journey was only the second train we had been on and only the third time we had been any distance out of London. This was not unusual as very few families took holidays, for most the only holidays children had were arranged by the local church through Country Holiday Funds.

My brother Bernard and I were taken, with a number of other children from our school, to a reception centre in Mermaid Street in Rye; here we waited until we were 鈥減icked鈥� by our prospective foster parents. We were given a piece of fruit and a small bar of chocolate, whilst we waited. A crippled man and his wife chose my brother and me.
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Feelings at this time were very mixed; excitement 鈥攂ecause there was a strong sense of adventure, apprehension 鈥攂ecause we were now outside the protection of a strong family environment, and we did not know what the future held, concern 鈥� regarding my sisters, my mother and father from whom we were now separated. By this time we all knew what 鈥榳ar鈥� meant as we had seen photographs in the newspapers and Picture Post of the civil war in Spain, and the German Army in Austria and Czechoslovakia. My mother had experienced a Zeppelin air raid in the 1914-1918 war, the war in which my father had served as a Lancer.

When we arrived at the home of our new guardians it was little more than a hovel, depressing, dark, untidy and dirty. Within a short time the woman, who had gone out just after we arrived, came back with two girls, who I thought were daughters but were in fact two more evacuees, they were younger than my brother and I and were most distraught. Our accommodation was a shared bedroom separated from the two sisters by a tatty curtain.

On Sunday we were sat by the wireless to hear Mr. Chamberlain鈥檚 declaration of war on Germany, and were reminded in no uncertain terms that we were under their 鈥榩rotection鈥� for an indefinite period.

During the following week we were picked up along with a number of other 鈥榝amilies鈥� and taken to the hop fields in Kent, where we stayed for three days picking hops. Hops exude a lot of tannin and other staining substances when they are handled, so it was not long before we all had heavily stained hands. Accommodation in the hop fields was extremely primitive to say the least, but the camaraderie among the pickers was something to experience. The pay was relatively poor, but as we children saw nothing for our efforts it did not really matter.

It soon became apparent that we four children were taken in, not through a sense of duty or love, but purely as a source of income hence our life there gradually became intolerable. Fortunately, in response to a letter home our father came to visit us, (he was still stationed at Dymchurch) and within two days we had been moved to another billet.
Our new home was so different, we were made most welcome and it was a happy environment, we experienced our first bout of sea fishing, and duck shooting, and various trips to Winchelsea, Bodiam Castle and other local places of interest. Unfortunately this brief spell of happiness was soon over as the man of the house was 鈥榗alled up鈥� and we had to be re-billeted. We went to an elderly couple for a short period of time and then on to a much younger family where we stayed until we were moved from Rye.
We had a number of visits from my father during the first three months of the war, which we celebrated with a locally made ice cream, but these visits ceased when the heavy snow came. My father was trapped in his army truck in a snow drift and the effort made in releasing himself caused fibrositis in his arm which eventually resulted in his discharge from the army.

The first month at school was not easy as there was a certain amount of mistrust. The Londoners did not understand the ways of the country and were considered ignorant of matters associated with it. The country children were intolerant and suspicious mainly because of the false impressions they had been given of the way the Londoners were said to behave. This resulted in a number of instances of fighting, but by the end of the second month both groups were less suspicious and more friendly disposed to each other.

As the fighting in France went against the Allies and the threat of invasion became more real, my mother was told that my brother and I would be re-evacuated to Wales. This concerned my mother as she had not been able to visit us during the six months we were in Rye, and the likelihood of making trips to Wales was really out of the question. We returned to London. (My sisters, who were evacuated to Battle, were
relocated, at this time, Joyce to Uckfield, and Beryl to Guildford).

Chapter 2: In to London and out again

Within a few months of returning to London we were spending every night in the Anderson shelter in the garden, as a protection against air raids. I was soon practised in dressing in the dark and this was always completed by the time the dying notes of the siren sounded. We had no electricity in the house, lighting was either by gas lights or candles, but these were extinguished during air-raids.

The most difficult time was bath-time, this involved bringing the bungalow bath off the peg in the garden, filling it slowly from the Ascot water heater, we never made the allowable 5 inches of water for either the gas ran out or we daren鈥檛 take too long for it was a case of rapidly bathing and praying that the siren didn鈥檛 sound. If it did the only way out for the rest of the family to get to the Anderson shelter was through the kitchen where the bath was.

Air raids were most times heralded by the siren, at night the next thing was the sky being swept with search-lights seeking out enemy planes. When a 鈥榩lane was caught in a beam other 鈥榣ights would concentrate on it and it would shine with reflected light, then the anti-aircraft guns would open fire.
During the day the sky over London would be filled with barrage balloons, as the raid progressed the sky with be blossoming with puff balls of exploding shells amid the dark shapes of enemy aircraft.

Vivid memories of the Battle of Britain was the glow of the fires at night of the docks and central London, the vapour trails in the sky during the day of the 鈥渄og fights鈥� and the complete front facades of houses with nothing but rubble behind.

All across London, buildings that had had basements or cellars, which had been destroyed were emptied of rubble, sealed with tar and similar substances, and filled with water. On the outside wall was painted, white on black the letters E.W.S. 鈥� Emergency Water Supply, these places were invaluable as quite often water mains were destroyed and they were the only source of water to fight fires.

Because air-raids were so frequent it was soon decide that we would go straight to the shelter at bed-time as this would save a disturbed night sleep. The shelter was equipped with four bunk beds; these were constructed of a wooden frame with metal bands as a mattress support. Lighting in the shelter was by candles although we fitted a battery fed light which we switched on so that we could enter safely.
At this time my eldest sister Edie decided to give up working in a local shop and join the Land Army in Upton-upon-Severn, Worcestershire.

As schooling became more and more interrupted, by the spring of the following year my parents insisted on my brother and me being re-evacuated. This time to Tiverton in Devon.

We were taken to a house on the outskirts of Tiverton, the owners were extremely kind and generous, and they had a smallholding, kept chickens and geese and grew their own vegetables. We were able to help in many ways on the smallholding and enjoyed the fruits of our labours after the austerity of London.

Due to the limits in schooling I was re-located to Exeter early in 1942 away from my brother, with the expectation that he would follow at a later date, however that was not to be. Once again I was very happy with the choice of guardians, the house in Buddle Lane, was fairly large with a cellar and two floors above. The cellar was equipped with a Morrison shelter; this comprised of steel table with heavy steel mesh from the top to the floor. Little did I know that within a space of three short months I would spend a night in that!

A number of cities in England were attacked in the so -called Baedeker raids, these were said to have been based on the German travel guide books. Exeter was one of these and it was raided a number of times during April and May 1942. These were the most serious of the raids previous ones had been isolated incidents where bombs were jettisoned from planes returning from attacking other targets. On the occasion of the first raid in April we were awakened and went down to the Morrison shelter, before we had really settled in there was a hammering on the door, it was an Air Raid Warden to tell us of an unexploded bomb at the end of the road. We would be transported immediately out into the country, with just enough time to grab clothes to cover our night attire. This duly happened and the occupants of the whole street were taken by canvas covered trucks and deposited well outside the city under a hedgerow. We were unable to return to the house for three days, but after the first night a farmer made his large barn available.

Needless to say the authorities wished to re-evacuate the children; I was successful in getting my mother to bring me back to London. I was officially no longer an evacuee.

Chapter 3: Back to London to Stay.

By the time I had returned home in May 1942, my two sisters had also returned home to go to work, my father had been discharged from the army, on medical grounds, and although Edie was in the Land Army and my brother was still in Tiverton. (Here he stayed some weeks after the end of the war because his records were 鈥榣ost鈥�). We were nearly a complete family once again.

Once back in London I restarted school at Greenwich and Charlton Central Secondary School, as the name suggests that this was a composite school of two others, mainly because of lack of teachers and structural damage to the original schools. This became a fairly stable time of education with a choice of following a technical or commercial career, I chose a technical one, but this was short lived as it soon became obvious there was not enough material to work, so it was a case of learning shorthand, book-keeping and typing instead. At this time I managed to get a paper round, which brought me in 7 shillings and sixpence a week for morning, evening and week-end deliveries.

When autumn came I had the opportunity, along with others, to spend a week at Whyteleafe in Surrey stuking crops and harvesting potatoes, unfortunately it was still near enough to London to witness air-raids at night which generated a high degree of concern for the families back home.
Some of the air-raids we as a family experienced, were quite nerve racking but fortunately the home never suffered any serious damage, the nearest it got to destruction was when a 鈥榖asket鈥� of incendiary bombs fell along the length of the street all within the gardens but apart from the vivid glare of burning magnesium no damage occurred.

One incident that sticks in my mind was the bright sunny day when a flight of enemy fighter bombers came low up the Thames, strafing and bombing without the hindrance of any barrage balloons, I was passing the Naval College at Greenwich on a tram as a bomb fell on the college and machine gun bullets seemed to fly every where. Seconds later those same planes strafed near Lucas Vale School as a girl, unknown to me at the time, was leaving school with her friends, that girl I married some 14 years later.

My mother and Monica had not left London at all throughout the blitz and it was decided, just after the beginning of the attacks by the flying bombs, that they and I would spend a couple of weeks in my mother鈥檚 aunt鈥檚 house in Nailsea, Somerset. This we did just after D-day. The time there was mainly spent in following the progress of the invasion, day to day drawing the advances on a Daily Telegraph wall map of Europe. However my mother was not relaxed and continually concerned over the happenings in London so she was relieved when the time came to return.

We came back to London for me to go to work at the age of fourteen and a half, in Westminster and to be met by more frequent 鈥渄oodlebug鈥� attacks. The first night raids involving V1鈥檚 left us euphoric so many appeared to be shot down, but this of course was not so for as they ran out of fuel they fell to earth as a bomb. We all soon got use to the characteristic popping of the engine followed by the dreadful whistle and then silence before the explosion.

The second weapon the V2, was not as fearful as the V1, although it was much more devastating you did not hear it coming! The two bangs it made as it exploded and passed through the sound barrier was all you knew. One always seemed to 鈥榗ome in鈥� around 6 o鈥檆lock as I was walking home from leaving the No. 53 bus back from work.

And so eventually the war came to an end, celebration was in the way of an austere but happy street party, my eldest sister never came back home, she remained in Worcestershire and got married. Eventually my brother was 鈥榝ound鈥� and the family was a unit once again although it took time to adjust as Bernard had been away from a family environment for over four years.

My regret over this period of my life is that I did not have the opportunity to enjoy family life to its fullness.
On reflection those six years of the war gave memories and experiences that I shall never forget, and in a peculiar way I鈥檓 glad as it taught me to enjoy life, without worrying what tomorrow may bring.

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