´óÏó´«Ã½

I was only four years old at the outbreak of world ward 2 in 1939, so I probably have a child's view on all that happened and how it affected me.

My memories go back to lots of hustle and bustle as we were lined up for departure on the train station. Sometimes I wonder if I just imagined the atmosphere which was so tense with mothers and fathers weeping and saying a fond farewell to their children and wondering what the future held once they were parted. We all had the famous cardboard box which held the all important gas masks essential to everyone in case we were invaded by the Germans. I remember the labels we wore with information about us and how all the girls had the same style hair which was short and mainly straight, pretty boring actually, but that’s the way it was then.

There was my sister who was 11 years old and my brother who was 8 years old and me being the baby at four years of age. We then left the station for our final destination which was Wooler in Northumberland. It was very strange to us as you can imagine; we were then placed in an old doctor’s house with lots of other children. I suppose I was well looked after with being so young but I can’t imagine why anyone (even my parents) would want to send their children to complete strangers and this has always puzzled me to this date. I remember everyone having mumps and we were all confined to bed. The girls in one dormitory and the boys in the other and lots of coming and going but never the cuddles you would have got if you had been with your own family. I remember the breakfasts which were very yucky to me, it was porridge every date (which I never ate) and on Sundays we had porridge and fried bread with a slice of bacon, so I wished my life away waiting for Sundays.

We were there for two years and then we were told we were being moved. My brother was sent to a farm in the area and my sister and I were kept together, probably because I was so young, and we went to a place near Berwick. It was sad to have the three of us separated at that time as it was to have a big effect on our lives later. I did learn that my brother was not happy and the people he boarded with were not nice to him at all. Eventually he ran away and to this day he doesn’t know how or where he got the money from — but being a very headstrong lad he returned to his own home and never went back.

My sister and I had quite the opposite outcome as we were living in a little village with very nice people. The family we were placed with were very good to us and they consisted of husband and wife and a grown up daughter who was a Sunday School teacher. They ran the village post office which was just like a passage in the house. They had a huge garden and lots of hens and all kinds of fruit trees and were very self sufficient. We never went short as far as I know. We were sent a monthly parcel of sweets from home as part of our ration and this was something we all looked forward to receiving. School was just across the road so we were never late, yet I cannot remember what the teachers were like. I made good friends and used to go up to the farm and also get rides on the hay wagon as I was friendly with the farmer’s daughter. We spend a further three years at this house before returning home to a very different life from which we had before we were evacuated.

My husband and I have revisited these two places in later years and I felt very nostalgic about things and how as a child everything now looked so small in comparison to what I remembered it to be. The sad part of this story is that my parents separated while I was away and my sister and I returned to live with my grandmother as our father was very ill with TB and our brother returned to live with our mother so once again we were separated and none of it was our fault but with insight I think the war years had a lot to do with it.

The sequel of this story is that my sister and I still remained close to each other and I believe she felt responsible for me during our evacuation years. She always took the blame for me and I now look back and remember these little things and appreciate all that she did for me and how she was always there to help me out. I also think that it must have been very hard for a young girl of 11 years of age to be sent to a new family and told to get on with it. I have never heard her complain after all those years. It is me who seems to find it hard to believe, as I would never send my children away from me.

The fairytale ending is that when I was getting married I wrote to my brother and asked him to give me away. He said yes, and that made my day, and we were reunited after all those years apart I was proud as punch when he walked me down the aisle. Even now we are very close even though he still lives down the country where he went to live all those years ago. So things do turn out well after all and we do often wonder what life would have been like if we had never been evacuated and if the war had never happened.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.