大象传媒

This contribution to WW2 People鈥檚 War was received by the Action Desk at 大象传媒 Radio Norfolk. The story has been written and submitted to the website by Rosalie Davis Gibb (Volunteer Story Gatherer) with the full permission and on behalf of Brian Bishop.

I wonder what happened to the Coppard family that came to us as evacuees from some unknown place in London during 1940. Jessie, the mother, and Alan, Pat (or was it Pauline?) and little Richard. The father, Len, who was lame and a baker in London, visited his brood on occasion.

Mum and Jessie became good friends and kept in touch for a while after the war, but all trace of the family has been lost. Mum is no longer with us so we can鈥檛 ask the questions we should have asked long ago.

There were six of us, the Bishop family. Father (Leslie) was in the Royal Artillery 8th Army. Then there was Mum (Kathleen) and Ivan. I came next, then Pamela and Patricia. There had been little Victor. He lost his own battle aged 11 months fighting pneumonia and died in Mum鈥檚 arms one dark night in the middle of a black-out. Father was not there to comfort her, but Jessie was, and they grieved together.

I was 6 on VE Day, but I remember the family, especially the children.

Our poor evacuees must have wondered just how safe were they on the day a German plane, flying just above the field behind our house, being chased by another, dropped its bombs there, either for a quick getaway or so he wouldn鈥檛 be blown up should he crash.

One sunny day when we were in our back garden we heard the sound of an aircraft with a very sick engine. Into sight came a pending disaster. We were sure there was going to be a terrible crash. The aircraft was losing height and heading straight for our neighbour鈥檚 house. Just at the last moment the pilot managed to pull the nose up high enough to carry the plane over the rooftop. It crashed in the next village, Great Melton.

One of the thrills I recall was to watch the searchlights, probably from St Faiths near Norwich, as they criss-crossed the night sky looking for enemy planes.

Our next-door-neighbours, Mr and Mrs Broom, had a son (Ronnie, I think) flying as a pilot or navigator in Lancaster Bombers. One evening a flight of bombers flew over. We children were playing in the yard when Mr Broom rushed out to watch as the planes passed over our roofs. One of the planes appeared to wriggle its wings as it flew off into the distance. Mr Broom was very excited, waving his arms and shouting 鈥淕ood luck boys鈥�. He was certain his son was in this plane, had recognised his home and it was his way of saying 鈥淗ello Dad鈥�. We shall never know!

I wonder if any of the Coppard family are still alive, and where are they? Do they have children or grandchildren to tell their story to of being forced to leave their home and live with strangers who became friends in the Norfolk countryside? Where did they come from and where are they now? Will we ever know?

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