This is a story remembered from when I was a little
girl. It was around my fifth birthday, September 1939 that Britain declared war
on Germany. It was a very bewildering time for grown-ups and even more so for
children. When the air raids started almost all of the children were sent to
the countryside to live because it was safer. Imagine, I was not quite six when
I was evacuated. We were taken to the railway station and given a brown bag
lunch. I had a little suitcase with my clothes. A luggage label, with my name
and address on it, was attached to my coat.
It was very hard saying by to my Mum. I had a
neighborhood friend who was in the same train car as I was. I even remember my
coat was a pretty mauve, and I had a matching bonnet. My aunt bought it for me;
she thought that if I looked pretty that someone nice would take me in. We
arrived at a village called Hemel Hempstead in the country of Bedfordshire, and
they took us to a church hall. The people came in and picked us out to go home
with them. It’s strange thinking back that our parents didn’t even know where
we were for several days. They were notified by mail as to where we were.
I was lucky I stayed with a very nice family, and my
mom came to visit when she could. When my grandma came to visit, I cried so
hard when she was leaving that she took me back home. I had been away for
several months when my Nanny came. She bought me an Easter basket, so I must have
been there from around August to April. I have a picture taken at the school
around the time of my sixth birthday. I was so happy to be home, but soon the
bombing was to get worse, and the next time I was evacuated, my little brother
came with me. That time we were sent even further away, and my little brother
hated every minute of it.
We didn’t stay very long when mom came to visit and
witnessed the way the lady of the house treated us; she took us home. At home
we had an indoor shelter, more or less like a cage, at least it kept the glass
out when our windows were broken from bomb blasts. We never suffered a direct
hit, although our house was damaged several times.
I think you should write a book.
ReplyDelete. Since I am your friend, you have told me some of your stories. I think you are an awesome person. Hugs, Betty Swift
ReplyDeleteYou really SHOULD write a book, Pat! These were important historic years. Yet we're losing bits of this history every day. Each individual's story helps give flesh to facts, which provides breath to history and makes it REAL to future generations. We only know the stories that you, and others who experienced this time, tell us. We NEED to hear what you have to say.
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