大象传媒

This story was recorded and posted by Mark Jeffers, with the authors permission.

Looking back on the war years I consider that we were relatively lucky in some ways. I can remember my poor mother coming in after being to 11o鈥檆lock mass on Sunday 3rd September and saying 鈥淲ar declared. The priest has just announced it at mass,鈥� and the poor woman was nearly sure that there would be no war.

My father was a self employed upholsterer and materials began to get scarce, so that meant no work, no money. After a few months in May 1940, he joined the RAF and it was a sad home without him, lonely too. About this time the Government had agreed to evacuation, not compulsory of course. But we decided we would go to Granny鈥檚 in Co. Down. So on Sunday 7th July 1940 from Finiston School, Oldpark Road, at 8am, in an old N.I.R.T.B. we set off.

My two brothers, Tom (10) and Maurice (6) and my twin cousins, Rose and Frank (6) made up our party. It seemed like a party as getting on the bus we were given little bags with big red letters on the front. Inside there was a Paris bun and a bottle of milk which by this time was far from cool. I pity the driver of the bus as I think every child, about 50, was sick by the time we reached our destination in Dundrum.

We were then taken by a very kind gentleman, the local rate collector, in a lovely Austin 7. Grandma鈥檚 was a lovely little patch of Co. down near Seaforde. We looked more like refugees than evacuees trooping out of that we car, tousled hair and clothes covered in crumbs. A brown parcel of neatly packed clothes was torn apart and our gasmasks hung over our shoulders. Gran said you never get gas out here. She was right, even after the war she didn鈥檛 have gas in her house!

After lunch, Gran announced a garden party in the parish. Off we went, it was great out in the open, walking 2 陆 miles we soon discovered that would be our journey each day, each way to school for the net three years. The days off were few. All went well until my brother Tom fell and hurt his wrist and had to make a journey to the Mater hospital. As our parental home was close to the hospital we went to see mother. The poor woman nearly had a heart attack because she thought we had run away. After another cup of tea we went off again to the country residence.

We attended the local school which had a very good master, but boy was he heavy handed and I don鈥檛 think he liked evacuees. On saying that, I often got a lift to school in his Austin 7. We stayed there 2 陆 years and were lucky enough to miss the Blitz in Belfast. My aunt and brothers stood and watched our dear home town go up in flames. I heard the noise but thought it was someone knocking on the door. They also saw landmines descending. We later learned that two landed near my home, and my mother watched one in particular land and the noise was awful. I remember visiting the city and see all these buildings and 陆 buildings still smoking.

There was a terrible winter snow and one couldn鈥檛 get out for milk, as there was no milkman in that part of the world. We used to go to a local farmer but as we were snowed in so was he. When the weather eased a little and the postman arrived the first letter he took from my aunt was to the ministry of food stating the plight of five young children and an elderly lady and no milk for days. The reply came back a week later saying it would soon be spring and when the cows calved and the goats had kids there would be plenty of milk. My mother quite often brought us milk from Belfast and many times during that bad spell of weather there were bad bus services, so she would travel by train to Ballynahinch and travel the four miles out on foot. How she managed I鈥檒l never know. Once a month we got our sweet ration of a small bar of Kit Kat. It soon disappeared.

After 2 陆 years with Gran we came back complete with gas masks. Not long after that in fact Easter we had a new little baby brother, a wartime baby. I often went with my mum for his orange juice, cod liver oil and national dried milk. There were no more raids on Belfast.

When the war ended there was great celebration in Belfast City centre and my mother and brothers went into town. I had to stay at home and mind the baby.

We got our rations every Thursday. I remember going to the food office for clothing coupons on the corner of Pim Street.

My father was stationed in Upper Crescent near Queens. It was a barrage balloon post. He was an operator.

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