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At the beginning of the war, I was the eldest of eight children and I was attending my new 'Senior School'. Five of my sisters and one brother were at other schools, but for evacuation purposes they were included with my school. At the age of nearly 14, I was responsible for them.

Ok, off we went, away from home for the first time. Dad was in the Army and Mum stayed at home with the baby. We were put on a train at Tottenham Hale Railway Station, carrying gasmasks and not knowing where we were going. I can't remember too much about that journey, although I do remember seeing the grown-ups who were left behind — they didn’t look too happy either. I will never, however, forget my feelings when we arrived at Tuddenham in Suffolk. We were placed in what I believe was the Village Hall, and the residents of Tuddenham came into choose the kids they thought would be suitable to take into their homes. Yes, it was truly scary. How did they know at one showing which girl or boy would be suitable to foster?

One by one, we were taken away — how those of us left to the last did not ‘escape’ I’ll never know, but I was fixed rigid to the floor when my siblings were taken away separately. How could I keep my promise to my mum to look after them? Anyway, we had no choice so we did the best we could, we went to our respective billets (or foster homes) whatever they were called in those days.

My younger sister Elsie had been in her new home for about 30 minutes, when she turned up at the house where I was to stay. She had already been bathed, her hair washed and it was still very wet; she had been sent to collect her hairbrush which happened to be in my luggage. I was upset — she might catch cold. Not the best of beginnings. Fortunately, after a while, we settled down in our new surroundings and things weren’t too bad.

At first, there was no suitable school building, so we had our lessons during closing hours in the village pub! Some lessons were outside with walks in the countryside. Later though, we were accommodated into school more adequately and I attended a senior school in Mildenhall; I actually enjoyed my time there. I say thank you to all those people who looked after us.

We were sent away from home in the London area, supposedly to be safe. We had only been in Suffolk a short while, when one of the first bombs fell on the UK. There was a crater in Tuddenham and the windows of my sister’s bedroom were shattered. I remember cycling over to Tuddenham from Mildenhall to see if she was safe — she was — but my headmistress gave me a telling off as she said that it was her job to worry about my family. You see I was very late for school that morning. But I felt responsible — I’d promised my Mum and Dad!

During the summer holidays my friend, Kathy French, and I worked on the land with the local farmer — other children whose parents could afford the fare would go home for the holidays. Kathy and I started our farming career by heaving the ears of wheat up on to the tractor. Although we were both quite buxom lassies, I found this difficult as my arms seemed too weak to lift the load, so I suggested that I drive the tractor, thus relieving the driver to heave the wheat. I said I knew how to drive the tractor — a little fib — but I did know there were only two gears, one forward and one back! We were paid a little money at the end of each week, and were given goodies by the farmer, including rabbits, to take home to our foster parents. These ‘extras’ were truly appreciated during that time of rationing.

And there are more stories to tell!!!

The thread of this story though is mainly to highlight the dramatic effects on our family, and possibly on many others, of being split up and sent to different homes. This was Evacuation. We seemed to be ‘lost; after we went home again and found it difficult to get on with each other. You see, for the past years we had been living under different situations. Some of our foster parents were rich, some were poor, some were strict, some were more easy going, and some more loving than others. So, at ages when our characters and expectations were being were being formed, we actually grew more and more apart. Dad was at Dunkirk and his experiences in France played heavily on his mind, so when he came home he too was ‘changed’. His health then was not good and I believe we lost him earlier than if he had not been to war.

So, I often wonder how life would have been growing up at home with Mum and Dad, sisters and brothers in the normal way. And last but not least, we were told that because of the sacrifices made by one and all during this War, it would be the war to end all wars — Not So!! The whole world seems to be at war these days.

And I believe that those people all over the Country who took in ‘evacuees’ did a fantastic job — in my mind it was a great contribution to the War Effort — Thank You.

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