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I Was an Evacuee

As the storm clouds gathered over Europe, we sat in class in the East End and went through the process of preparation to go into the country, with fear and apprehension.
Clothes had to be name taped; the allocation number predominant - we were 811 - luggage labels, gas masks and our coats all bore this symbol of identity. We were told that each of us older girls was to be responsible for a little one, and as I was a thirteen year old, I was put in charge of a five year old, Maureen Gibb, a sweet little girl whose Mummy was expecting another child in the near future.

Our briefing was continuous: to behave, be obedient and keep together on our journey. We were given a list of food to take with us for the journey - we were to take chocolate, nuts, raisins and barley sugar in addition to sandwiches - drinks were given during the journey, although some of us took thermos flasks as well.

Our reporting time at school that Friday was 8 o'clock, the date: 1st. September 1939. The morning crisp. Our assembly routine had been rehearsed time and time again. Our Headmistress, authoritarian and demanding of the highest behaviour, was a disciplinarian. So we gathered in the playground of Gayhurst Road School in regimented lines. We were counted and checked against the vast lists of the teachers who were to accompany us and then, the final roll call.

Leaving ÃÛÑ¿´«Ã½:

Some parents were present to see us off, but my own Mother had chosen to say goodbye at home as the parting was so traumatic for her. I remember well the trundle to school with luggage and a lump in my throat, not knowing when I would see my Parents again - the tears were not far off either.

However, we were ready for the 'off ' and the great crocodile progressed towards London Fields Station on the old L.N.E.R. Line. It seemed a long and arduous walk, but when one looks back it was not far in distance, a matter of 5/600 yards.

We climbed the stairs to the platform and as we lined up to board the train, the teachers hovered constantly to ensure our safety and well-being. Some of the little girls were fretful, whilst being a "responsible girl" it was necessary to grit the teeth and appear calm, not knowing where we were going or how long it would take.

An Air of Excitement:

The train eventually puffed into the station and we all clambered in and got settled, there was a strange excitement, an air of the unknown. We got under way and it seemed that the journey went on forever. We had a drink and some of our food, played " I Spy " and tried to keep a look out as to where we were. I think I'm right in saying that by this time, in the emergency which prevailed, all the name posts of the stations had been removed. This was in case of invasion, so that the enemy would not know their whereabouts. I can't remember a longer journey and we stopped around mid-day to trundle to the toilets of some mysterious station. This took an absolute age for all to pay their calls and get back into the train. Off we puffed again into the unknown.

Exhausted:

The pre-war journeys were never all that comfortable and the time began to pall; everyone was fidgety and fed up, some tearful. It was now getting towards late afternoon and we thought we were never going to arrive anywhere. At dusk we arrived at a largish station, very bare and strange. We were here.... out we scrambled, dragging out our luggage and the little ones who were by now very, very tired and miserable. By the time we were hustled into a nearby School Hall it was dark and chilly. Here we had biscuits and cocoa. We were then shepherded into several large coaches to further destinations unknown. We afterwards realised that the School was in Thetford in Norfolk and that the coaches would be distributing their passengers all over the Norfolk villages.

We were first aware of the total darkness of the country lanes as we weaved our way round. Our destination finally was Ashill in Norfolk. We arrived about 8.30 / 9.00 at night very, very weary. We were shown into the village school hall and in there were dozens of country folk hovering around.

Picked by a Lady:

It appeared that the country folk wandered around and selected the child or children they took a liking to. I was approached by a tall graceful lady who enquired how old I was and the little girl, Maureen. This lady wanted two children, so we were they! We collected our belongings, left the hall and walked, it seemed forever, along the dark country road. We arrived at a large house on the left hand side of the road. We went in through a large five-barred gate alongside a round pond, in through a yard into a side door. There was a warm dim-lit kitchen which went into a large dining room. It was lofty and it seemed very comfy and a large fire burned in the grate. A hefty man came towards us and welcomed us, he had a ruddy complexion and it was evident that he was a farmer. He puffed at his pipe, his speech very broad Norfolk dialect, this was Paul Garner, the farmer of Lodge farm, the lady was Grace Garner.

It was now near 10 o'clock at night. We had a drink and a sandwich and we were shown to bed. Out through another door we climbed a steep staircase lit by an oil lamp. The staircase was eerie with shadows dancing on the ceiling from the flickering of the oil lamp. We were shown into a large lofty room with a large double bed which seemed very high off the ground. We got into bed after sorting out our night clothes. There was a hot bottle in the bed, a kindly comfort. We were so tired we just sank into the bed, but sleep did not come easily. The little one was crying and I didn't feel very brave. There was a loneliness, an air of being far from everyone. The darkness and silence were formidable.

A New World:

However, morning eventually came and we got up. We had a large washstand with a very large jug of cold water, so it was my lot to wash and dress Maureen, she was still fretful. When we were ready we ventured to open the door and were met by Jasmine, 13 who was the lady's daughter. We went downstairs and there met Heather, 8 and Gillian 5. There was a very large table with places set for breakfast. We all sat up and tucked into our breakfast. We chatted nervously about our home and the usual exchanges that take place at such first meetings.

Immediately after our first meal together we were shown where the toilet was. It was a fair walk down the side of the house and was of the chemical nature. Our water was pump drawn - the pump towering above an enormous grey stone sink about six inches deep. We explored the dairy close by, where all sorts of unfamiliar objects were arrayed. It was a working dairy farm, about which I was to learn a lot more later on.

Norfolk Countryside and War:

We all chased out into the farm yard to investigate the farm buildings and to see the cows and the pigs and hens. At the far side of the house was an orchard; rows and rows of trees heavy with fruit, with lots littering the ground, a sight which was new to us. Thus began our new life in the country, that first Saturday.

Sunday was a warm September day and we all met at the village hall to go to Church. The church was packed with the local people plus all the evacuees and teachers. The sermon was a solemn one with special prayers for peace. We left the church and began to wander down the lane. There was an uncanny silence and then a policeman on a bike, wearing a tin hat and yelling " War has been declared! " A chill ran through us as we did not really know how this would affect us. Shortly after the sirens sounded and then the 'all-clear' sound. It was confusing, frightening and again very lonely.

We made our way home and sat down to Yorkshire pudding with gravy, followed by roast beef and vegetables. I forget what happened that afternoon. I only remember being in bed again with little Maureen and being afraid of going to sleep and then the constant roar of aircraft overhead, it seemed for hours. In the morning we learned that Watton Airfield was only three miles away.

Monday morning came all too soon as it was the first day of the Autumn term, war or no war, so off we went to the village hall close by the village school. This was to be our school. School days there were very hazy, but I remember most , the concert.
Miss Batterson, my own teacher, was fortunately still with us girls. She was a very special person; kind, thoughtful and in spite of her own sorrow - during the summer holiday she had lost her own mother - she was a great comfort and strength to us all. However, to get back to the concert: Miss Batterson was a music teacher so she arranged a concert in which we all took part. Very good for those with talent, but for the others of us who were shy at performing, it was frightening. I sang
" One Day When We Were Young", a song which had featured in the film on the life of Strauss - "The Great Waltz". I remember standing there, an awkward 13 year old, singing quite boldly until the tears began to roll down. I suppose I was reminded of home and seeing the film with my Mother. Strangely enough I can't remember what anyone else did at all.

Farm Life:

Life on the farm was exciting. It was harvest time and we clambered over haystacks, picked blackberries, hazelnuts and later on walnuts - all new to us. I was taught to milk a cow and to make butter in a turning churn and generally help about the place. One of my big thrills was seeing a calf born.

Maureen, my little charge, left us after a week or ten days, as her mother had been evacuated separately as an expectant mum and it so happened that Mrs. Gibb landed up only a matter of 12 miles away, so Maureen joined her there.

The children on the farm were great, Jasmine was quite a young lady; Heather was more of a tomboy and Gillian was a sweet five year old who consumed gallons of tea at every meal and would sing out " Cuppa tea please, cuppa tea please ".
We all got on very well together. Mr. Garner ( Paul ), was a mighty man, a typical farmer. Mrs. Garner ( Grace ), a tall lady, quite calm with a beautiful voice - she sang quite often. She also read a great deal and was capable of the most beautiful embroidery and tapestry.

Mrs. Garner's parents lived at Saham Toney, 2/3 miles away, in a beautiful bungalow on the edge of Saham Mere. It was around here we picked walnuts. They were a kindly couple; Mr. Woodcock was a retired head gamekeeper from Holkham Hall, Mrs Woodcock a lovely Grandma figure. We used to deliver fresh milk to them and I used to cycle with a small churn of milk on the back of my bike.

I was very close to another teacher who had been our gym teacher. She was located some three miles away at Great Cressingham and the highlight came when she married at the church there and I was allowed to attend along with the other teachers. Shortly afterwards I stayed with them in their home they had set up temporarily and one of my most vivid memories was collecting the roast joint from the baker's oven on Sunday.
We all cycled from there to Swaffham Market. The Saturday market there was quite something, it was a long cycle ride, I recall my legs being so tired when I got back.

There was so much to interest us, yet we were not happy at being away from home. I longed to go back to London.

Norfolk to London:

During October my Mother came to visit and it was after this weekend that arrangements were made for me to come back to London, although I was unaware of this at the time. Then one Friday afternoon in November, a message came to the school, that my Uncle had arrived to take me home. I ran from my desk, saying brief goodbyes to all and raced back to the farm where I gathered my things together and back I came with Uncle Ted to Hackney. It seemed a long journey and with the blackout in London it seemed so strange a place. That was my last afternoon at school, I was 13.
Norfolk Revisited:

When I look back over fifty odd years it seem hard to realise that this experience of a few weeks in Norfolk made such an impression on my life. I always wanted to return. I kept contact with the family from then on at Christmas time.

Then in 1965 I returned to North Norfolk for a holiday, and have done so very year since. It was not until 1972 when we first had a car that I returned to Ashill.
Paul Garner greeted me with open arms and made a great fuss of me and my family.

The farm " Lodge Farm" is now Ashill House, a home for the elderly, converted for this purpose. Paul and his second wife, lived nearby in a new bungalow called "Beech Lodge", built around the remains of the farm yard, with about 100 pigs and Mrs. Garner was breeding thoroughbred horses.

Grace Garner had died in the sixties and the girls had gone their separate ways. Jasmine was involved in a serious car crash in which she lost a child of three, and she herself died sometime later of a heart attack, leaving her husband with two young girls. Heather is still around and lives in Sprowston, just outside Norwich, we met up again for the first time in 1985. Gillian, I have visited several times and we correspond, she still puts the kettle on immediately anyone arrives.

Miss Batterson, my teacher and I corresponded and my daughter and I visited her shortly before her death a few years ago. Our Headmistress, Miss Hankins, was killed in a car crash shortly after our arrival in Norfolk.

I met Maureen Gibb, quite by accident in the 1960's, a mother of two little girls and then recently widowed.

A very dear Norfolk friend, Dorothy Yarham, whom I first met in 1966, remembered a Grace Garner nee Woodcock singing in the Methodist Church Choir, at Wells-next-the-sea. ( close to Holkham Hall, where her father worked ). Dorothy and her sister reminisced and even produced a photograph of them singing together in the choir at a church event. Dorothy accompanied us on a visit to Paul Garner in the 70's and they talked excitedly of people they both remembered. Ashill is some 40 plus miles away from Wells, and it transpired that Paul used to court Grace to and from Ashill in a pony cart, quite a distance! Paul died a few year ago now.

Through it all there was always a deep keen-ness to return to Norfolk, There was a warmth about Norfolk folk that sowed a seed of belonging, particularly North Norfolk, where I hoped one day my family and I would live.

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