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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Thomas Rose Pannell and has been added to the site with his permission. He fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

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The story of our evacuation

I was the oldest of three children born in Manchester to Arthur Pannell, a coppersmith and May Rose, a dressmaker. I was born in August 1931, my sister Josephine in 1933 and my younger brother Albert in 1937. After the Manchester Blitz, my youngest brother Roy, was born in Prestwich in 1942. Grandma and Grandad Rose lived very close by and we spent many happy hours in their company. They were bombed out of their home during the Manchester Blitz.

One day in August 1939, I recalled asking Mum where Dad was since we hadn’t seen him for some time. She explained that he had been called up into the army as the country was expecting to be at war with Germany very soon for the second time in 25 years. She also told us it was the second time Dad had been called up for military service because at 17 years of age he served in WW1 in France.

During this period Jo and I attended Ormond Street Infants School just off Cambridge Street, Manchester and close to home. Albert was too young to attend school.

I remember one morning in September 1939, Jo and I were busy getting ready for school in the usual way, but we were told to dress in our best clothes. Mum explained that we would be going on a bus ride into the country side, and would be staying there for a while with all the other children from school.

As usual we arrived at school and formed up into our class groups. Then our teacher issued each child with a gas mask and a luggage label that carried our name, age and information about our school. We had to practice putting the gas mask on and off and packing it back into its box. Then we tied the luggage label onto our coats and we were ready for shipping to ‘goodness knows where’.

It was now time for the mothers to say their good-byes amid lots of hugging and weeping. I remember my mother took hold of my hand and that of my sister. She then put my sister’s hand into mine and said to me ‘Whatever happens you must look after her, never let go of her hand’.

We boarded the bus. At the time it seemed an exciting time to us kids and
we were all looking forward to the ride into the safe countryside. We arrived
at our destination some time in the mid-afternoon. Then we were told that we
were going to stay in the village of Timperley which was in Cheshire. Little
did we know at the time that we were only about three miles from Ringway
Airport, which was not a safe place to be during those war years.

Then the process began of finding each child a local family, who would be willing to take them into their homes for the duration. We thought we were in another world as we travelled up and down tree lined lanes, past houses with large gardens and fields and farms with animals. At last the final stop for the bus was outside the old church in Thorley Lane. By this time most if the kids on our bus had been found accommodation with local families.

This left my sister Jo and I - the last children on the bus, to be found somewhere to stay. I was still holding her hand for dear life and a little worried that nobody up to now had been prepared to take in a brother and sister who were not willing to be separated. As luck would have it, a lady and gentleman, Mr and Mrs Bentley, who owned the large beautiful house next door to the church came over to the bus to see what they could do to help.

Our teacher explained the situation - that nobody could take in a brother and sister who did not want to be separated and as result we were about to be returned to the city. Without any hesitation they offered to take us both into their home.

Life turned out to be just great with Auntie Elsie and Uncle Wilfred. We could not ask for anything more. To put the icing on the cake our mum and our little brother Albert were also evacuated a few weeks later and taken in by the family living next door to Jo and I.

We attended the small village school that was located at the junction of Thorley Lane and the then new unfinished Timperley bypass. Our schooling was for about two hours a day for a long while. It took place during the midday break of the local children. Life for the evacuees was a little rough at times what with the ‘fall outs’ and ‘punch ups’ we had with the local kids - it took a while for us to be accepted.

In the summer of 1942, Mum managed to acquire a house in South Manchester and at last we became a family again. Dad was demobilized from the army in 1946. He and I had a strained father-son relationship for a long time after his demob. I think this was due to his absence all those years from 1939 to 1946, however we did resolve our problems in the end.

I finally let go of Jo’s hand in August 1966 due to her sudden death at the age of 32 years.

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