大象传媒

I, Doreen Elizabeth Howarth (maiden name Tudor) lived with my parents George Raynor and Elsie Annie Tudor, together with my four sisters Florence, Mary, Dorothy and Georgina, my last address being 30 William Street just a stone's throw from the hubbub of the city centre.

Little did I know then what life would have in store for me and also for thousands of others up and down the land during those war years and the repercussions would accompany me throughout the rest of my life. We were a happy, lively family and I remember Florrie, Mary and I going to St Thomas' Church and the school. It was September 1939 and {.was six years old and Florrie, Mary and I were evacuated to a farm somewhere in the country -I have no idea where it was and on that farm we had to work picking apples and fruit in the orchard and carrying large white enamel buckets filled to the brim. We found it very strict there and the two women were quite uncaring and very menacing. I don't think we were there for very long and we went home to my lovely mother and the two small sisters. I particularly remember missing m mother and Dorothy who was 4 years old.

I slept in a big bed with Florrie and Mary; bath nights were in front of a roaring fire in a galvanised bath and large shadows danced on the walls, which seemed to be very scary to us as small children. It must have been 1940 and then we were very much aware that there was a war on and in fact we were bombed out of our homes three times. The aftermath of these air raids I remember vividly was to see heaps of rubble where buildings had been bombed, trees adorned with pillows and bed linen, which had been hurled into the branches. After the third time we were bombed out we were all dug out of the debris by A.R.P men and taken to a police station where we 'spent the night on benches and rough coconut rugs. I also remember the nights we spent in air raid shelters after being alerted by the air raid sirens which in themselves were very frightening we heard the deafening sound of aircraft, bombs and incendiary devices; after the sound of the "all clear" we saw the awesome sight of searchlights lighting up the sky and the barrage balloons floating in the sky. These are the memories of a 6 year old,

During the "peaceful" times I remember my mother who was a very beautiful lady and who I loved dearly; she spent time with us cutting "dancing ladies" out of newspaper and making jam in the kitchen. We had two dogs some chickens and a horse upon which my father would lift me, and which in turn terrified me because I was so high up. We went to Dudley Zoo and fed the elephants. I adored my maternal grandfather, Henry Hughes who called me
"Tuppence" and he would take me to his club and ply me with ginger beer, which I hated because it was "smoky .He lived in Bolton Road Small Heath and would take me down the garden to see the trains go by. I don't know when it was when we were evacuated again -Florrie, Mary and I, were taken to the railway station presumably by the schoolteachers, together with my mother. We took a few things in brown paper bags and had labels pinned on us giving our name, address and date of birth. I remember vividly even to this day leaning out of the carriage window of the train with my arms around my mother's neck, never wanting to let her go with the train pulling away and my mother running along the platform until she managed to free herself and telling me that "she would come and fetch me'. I felt I had been tom away from my lovely mother . and I felt a terrible feeling of loss and it was so had I felt myself drawing into myself.

We eventually arrived in Moira a small mining village in Leicestershire being taken into the village hall (St Hilda's) near the tollgate. There was a spread laid out for us comprising food and drinks with a magician in attendance and I marvelled at the doves coming out of his top hat and flying around the room.

Then people, mostly women, came into the hall and all the evacuees were lined up to be "picked out"; Mrs. Wright and her daughter picked me, together with a girl called Grace and we were taken away to a cottage in Stone Row. Florrie went with another woman and Mary to yet another woman, so we were separated and sent to three different places. I was put in a bath and scrubbed then put to bed with Grace. I felt very lost without my mother and my sisters. It was dark. A little time later I was fetched out of bed and taken downstairs where there were two other ladies. Mrs. Wright said to them 'you can have this little one; she won't be any good to me. I was dressed and taken down to another cottage a few hundred yards down the road. It was very dark no lights, cloudy sky, very quiet and the trees seemed very tall and frightening but one lady held my one hand and the other lady held my other hand. I was taken into "Coombes", Measham, Road Moira, by these ladies one who I learned the next day was Aunt Til (the other one was her sister, Rose) and sitting in the small sitting room were two men, one of whom I found out the" next day to be Uncle Jim the husband of Aunt Til, the other man being Rose's fianc茅 Wilf who was in a sailor's uniform. Aunt Til (who of course was no relation) remarked that it was wicked to take a little gel away from her mam. They put me in a bath and scrubbed me again (no doubt because I was brown as a berry with dark eyes and hair) and they thought I could do with a bath! I slept that night in between Aunt Til and Rose. I had no idea where Florrie and Mary were but I learned later that they were both billeted in separate homes in Stone Row near where I had first been taken. The next day Uncle Jim came home black as the grate and I was convinced he was out of the 'Water babies' -the sweep I guess, but 1 later learned that he was a miner. I went to Moira Council School, the complete number of pupils being about 20. I saw my sisters very rarely but I relished living in the glorious countryside, wandering the fields and making friends with the village children. So rustic and pastoral compared to the war-tom muddle of England's second city. My headmaster, Mr. Callier, who taught the juniors was my hero, he would invite me to have lunch with him one day in the week, which I chose to be a Monday because that was the day we had cold meat and mashed potatoes with turnips, and rice pudding, and as it was washday I felt really put out. With no rugs down on the- lino floor because they had been taken up. Aunt Til cooked the most delicious meals on a Triplex green fireplace with the fire red hot with a kettle hanging above it on a hook and an oven on the left-hand side and a small oven (for puddings) above it. The sitting room was quite small to today's standards but I loved every inch of that cottage. The square oak table was in the middle with a one-arm sofa under the window, two dining room chairs under the table, a sideboard opposite the sofa with the other two dining chairs on either side. The sideboard boasted a Westminster chime clock, which chimed every quarter of an hour, and I loved it. The kitchen was really a pantry wide
enough to have white sink and running water with shelves on the wall covered in a wipe down material, which was cut on the edge to make a pattern. There was a thrawl, which was cold to the touch and served as a refrigerator. The place always smelled deliciously of cucumber and onion in vinegar.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of Doreen Tudor and has been added to the site with his permission. Doreen Tudor fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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