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This contribution to People’s War was received by the Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Norfolk and submitted to the website by Tracey Gray, with the permission and on behalf of Dorothy Root.

A week after war was declared September 10th, the day my mum had to do such an amazing and most fearing task ever. That morning, she had to say goodbye to my dad and my three brothers and join the many parents with their children to be evacuated from Tottenham in London to a safer part of the country. We were herded like sheep and taken to the railway station. Mrs Richards and her eight children were the first to board the train. Mum struggling to push a huge pram with two children inside, Margaret aged three years and Bessie just nine months old. I myself ( Dorothy ) aged thirteen was at the rear trying to keep my four sisters, Eileen, Alice, Betty, Ivy and young Harry aged seven in order.
How did she feel, what were her thoughts, where were we all going, what of my dad, my brother Bill, my brother Charlie, my brother Jack? Was she thinking of the war and how soon it would be before the boys would be called for the Navy (where they did join)? After a very long day we arrived at March near Cambridge. Never heard of such a place, I thought we had gone to the other side of the world being as we had never gone further than Southend before.
We were thinned out and those of us that were not chosen were taken to a place called Whittlesea. Tired, irritable, each carrying a brown paper carrier bag (plastic wasn’t around then) containing the best that mum could pack for us, a change of clothing, perhaps pyjamas and a comb.
We all had been given to us from these kind people, a bag (another one) full of goodies like chocolate, fruit, corned beef and a drink. Also over our shoulder, the most important of all — our gas mask. Eventually after much sorting, who should go with whom, we were off with our new families. Mum didn’t stay longer than two weeks, she went back home with the two youngest and of course that very large pram. Ivy and I stayed with Mrs and Mr Middleton who was the post-master. Their son was a wireless operator in the RAF and I do believe he was one of the first to loose his life fighting down the enemy planes.
After a year, we were all home with our mum again. By this time Anderson shelters were erected, or should I say dug into the garden and we also had a Morrison indoor shelter which we felt safe in even if the Anderson held the water when it rained. 1941 the children were evacuated again.
My three brothers were in the RN. I was working in Dunlop Raincoat factory making army uniforms. Dad worked all over asphalting airfield runways. Air-raids were getting very bad and Dad was too scared to keep coming home so Mum had top pack up again, this time with young Margaret and Bessie and me. So she had to secure the house the best way she could and off we went to Poole in Dorset. A year was enough, back home we went. The children came too. Alas, the raids on Britain were severe now, I had many a lucky escape going to and from work which by now was the Ever-Ready factory making torch bulbs. Eileen, Alice, Betty, Harry and Margaret went off to the country again.
We were approaching 1944, D-Day, how my mum kept up with it all I do not know, worrying about the boys at sea and the children away. Charlie came home after D-Day and told us stories of what he was involved with. Little did we know we would never see him again. June 3rd, HMS Quorn, was torpedoed off Le Havre, France. While we were at home waiting for news of survivors, Mum and Dad were at The Beeches Hotel, Malpas Chesire because Margaret had fallen ill with Rheumatic fever. She died, so where could Mum draw her strength from, Dad and us children were isolated from her. Billy and Jack came home on leave which filled part of agony.
1945 war over. But how does she start again. She does. We all grew up, she grew older. We all have children of our own, and grandchildren, myself with a great granddaughter. I would like to believe in my heart that I could, perhaps, be like her as she stood up to the test of being a Mum at war.

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