´óÏó´«Ã½

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a London CSV volunteer on behalf of Maureen Larkin and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

September 1st 1939 — an exciting time for a nearly seven-year-old. I am Maureen Larkin, living in Battersea, South West London, and it was decided that I should be evacuated with my eldest (married) sister, Lily Planner and her son of almost 12 months, Donald. I can remember standing on the railway station platform clutching a small suitcase, my gas mask and a label bearing my name pinned to my coat, and no-one knew our destination. The train was crowded and finally we arrived in Eastbourne. What a place to send us — nearer the channel and Germany rather than further away!

Together with several other women and their children we were taken to a very large house and shown our accommodation: a large kitchen (but no food in it), a communal sitting room and several large bedrooms with straw mattresses on the floor — about six to eight in each room — which we had to share with strangers, and there we were left to fend for ourselves. No food, no milk for the young babies and children. Not so exciting now!

After several days the women decided they were not going to accept these conditions any longer and descended on the Town Hall en masse demanding better accommodation, and eventually we were taken to individual billets. The lady who took us in was very nice but elderly and provided us with breakfast and dinner but didn’t like us in the house during the day, which meant going to the park or walking around the town. There was no question of going on the beach as it was being barricaded with barbed wire etc to stop the enemy from landing. My poor sister was at her wits’ end to know what to do with Donald, who was crawling and very active but was not welcome in any of the rooms in the house except our bedroom, which we had to share.

One morning whilst walking the air raid warning sounded. Everyone was petrified thinking we would be bombed or gassed immediately and we ran for cover — which happened to be a public house and the landlord took us down to the cellar. After about 10 minutes the all clear sounded — they had been testing the sirens!

We stayed in Eastbourne for six weeks and all was quiet, so my father brought us back to London where I remained during the whole of the war years.

When the Blitz started I remember at first sitting in the cupboard under the stairs and then sleeping in the Anderson shelter which had been installed in the garden. There was a period during the Blitz when my school closed and I had to stay at home. I didn’t mind that! At seven or eight years old you didn’t really understand what was happening but the conditions made you grow up fast.

First the bombing, then the Doodlebugs (V1s) and finally the Rockets (V2s), of which we had no warning. To this day I do not like loud sudden bangs which I am sure stems from the raids.

I can remember standing in my garden watching dog fights in the sky and one day walking home with my mother (there was no air raid warning in progress) a stray German plane flew low and began machine gunning at us. Fortunately, a neighbour realized what was happening and pulled us into her house, so we escaped unhurt.

Although bombs dropped all around us during the war — we lived by the railway and Clapham Junction was only a half-mile away — we were very fortunate not to get hit and only lost a few panes of glass.

Living by the railway lots of troop trains went by and often were stopped by the signal. When the train held American troops my friends and I would wave and talk to them and they would throw bars of chocolate and chewing gum to us. What a luxury!

Of course food was very scarce. I don’t know how my mother coped, but we never went hungry. She queued for hours if she heard there was going to be a delivery at the butchers, and we would take it in turns to queue at the bakers for bread, usually my mother starting, then my sister would take over and then I would come along after school. Just for one loaf of bread!

As the railway was at the bottom of the garden we were given a piece of their land to ‘Dig for Victory’. My father grew a lot of vegetables on this allotment which helped to fill us.

Finally peace was declared and I remember VE Day vividly (I was now almost 13 years old and at grammar school). A huge bonfire was lit in the street, every light was switched on and curtains drawn back, a neighbour brought his piano out into the street and there was lots of singing and dancing and I suspect a few tears.

Now we had to win the peace.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.