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My mother was evacuated, while her older brothers and sisters were in different armed forces or looking after young families. When trying to find a poem on evacuation for a remembrance evening, there was none, so this was written to encapsulate my mother's experience.

'Evacuee'
by Don McLaren

Everyone knew there was trouble in store
Newspaper placards all spoke of a war.
Each day for a week I said my goodbyes
I kissed Mum and Dad while drying my eyes.
To school with my gas mask, and upon my back
belongings packed tight in Dad’s old haversack,
with bloodstains left over, from the Great War,
no new bag for me, because we were poor.
September the second, a Saturday,
Our headmistress said we were going away.
All of a sudden I felt really sad.
I am going to miss you, Mum and Dad.

Train ambles to Bracknell, lunch in a field,
I pray that none of my family is killed.
A large chocolate bar, some biscuits, and wow!
Condensed milk made by a ‘contented cow’!
‘Don’t eat the chocolate’, the headmistress bid.
I kept mine for later; not all of them did!
I think of my family in different wars
Ed in the Navy, Edie in the stores,
Len in the Army and Elsie with child
Mum home in Clapham, me out in the wild
All of a sudden I feel really sad.
Miss you already, my dear Mum and Dad.

An Abingdon coach – rest in a great hall,
Bus then to Oxford, not settling at all.
We climb a steep hill, to huts on a moor,
Ffennell, a colonel, built them for the poor.
We’re given large sacks and plenty of straw,
Our mattresses made, we slept on the floor.
On Sunday we wander through mist and the dew
in our plimsolls, so as to save leather shoe
Mr Ffennell gifted some clogs for us all
But none fitted me, as my feet are too small.
War was declared, so we heard; I was sad.
I miss you and love you, dear Mum and Dad.

Hot afternoon, to Botley we tarried,
To a kind young couple, only just married.
A beautiful billet for Beatrice and me,
but it isn’t my home or my own family.
A very long garden, a stream running by
I dream of the Common, and stare at the sky
We’re told where the school is; it’s not far away,
No time to ponder, we went the next day!
A school with a cloister, with fields all around
Horse drawn tractor a-ploughing the ground
A future with strangers, I’m still feeling sad,
Oh how I miss you, my own Mum and Dad.

School was so crowded, not easy to fend
There was them, us and also kids from the East End.
So they used Hinksey Church, and the Baptist Church too
as impromptu classrooms. What else could they do?
We were told to get on, and to make a new friend
We were taught to be frugal, to ‘make do and mend’,
Christmas was strange, from our families we’re parted,
Then in January ’40, the rationing started.
Butter bacon and sugar, then later came meat,
But we didn’t go hungry, there was plenty to eat,
I didn’t miss jam; what made me feel glum,
Was missing the flavour of my Dad and Mum.

I moved in September, and Beatrice did too,
The couple were happy, a baby was due,
My next home was dreadful, the place was so bleak
A horrid child lived there. I lasted a week.
I moved in with Miss Curtis, whose house was so fine,
Where lived Olive Page, such a good friend of mine.
In London the bombs dropped, all night after night,
Our houses were flattened, but we put up a fight
Some girls lost relations, went home on the train,
And their houses were bombed. Did not see them again.
I stayed where I was; I was frightened and sad,
And I prayed for you deeply, my Mum and Dad.

They filled in the ditches and put in new drains,
We swam in the Lasher and cycled the lanes
Mum and Dad came to visit one day, and they knew
I’d grown as a person. The village grew too!
A new church was built, some candles were lit
They topped out the porch with a threepenny bit
It was then dedicated to honour St Paul
Our choir sang the anthems, we stood proud and tall
But the Blitz rained on London, so said my Mum’s letter.
But they now had a shelter, so I felt a bit better
Dad was ‘digging for victory’; I was pleased I still had
my parents alive; my own Mum and Dad.

I moved to June Farrow’s; how we both loved to talk
I’d tell her of London, we’d go for a walk
The wireless broadcasted through Alvar Liddell
That the docks had been bombed as the fires raged like Hell.
I worried for London and how it had been
I was soon to return, I was nearly sixteen!
I was all packed and ready, December ‘41
Back home for Christmas would be so much fun!
The train entered the station and there to meet me
Was my brother Eddie, come home from the sea
On the tube we met Edie, so together we had
A family reunion with our Mum and Dad.

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