大象传媒

Story written by Gordon Coates, my brother

We were told, by our school teacher in Bradford, we were to be sent on holiday;whilst our soldiers made the Germans leave the rest of Europe in peace ....some holiday, some peace!!

I believe the furthest I had ever travelled before had been on the tram to Bingley, fishing with my grandad -that's 4/5 miles. Now we were going on a train, a long way into the countryside. This was a big adventure for a 9 year old. What would it be like, who would we see, what could we do?

There were eight of us in our family, mother and seven children. The eldest was almost 13 and the youngest not yet 3. Father had died over 2 years before, or he would have been in this war too.

On the day we set off I suppose we were quite excited, each of us carried a parcel of clothes, toothbrush, a sandwich and a medicine bottle filled with water. The cork came loose so I drank most of it before we even got to the station. We were all given a label on string to hang around our necks, written on it our name, address, our school and class and a number.

On we went to the station, what a crowd! Hundreds maybe thousands of chattering children with grown-ups getting into lines. Teachers blew whistles and walked us onto trains. What a noise from the steam engine, the smoke, people shouting their goodbyes, crying kids, prams, toys, books, friends, rivals, the whole lot of confusion left a big impression on a young mind.

Everyone wanted a window seat, to sit with best friends or siblings. Mother had warned us to stick together, or else! Then suddenly we were off. We children didn't know where we were going, just a long way. What seemed like hours passing, out of Bradford, into the countryside, through stations and fields, tunnels and valleys, till the train stopped and some folk got off -but not us yet! On again through small villages and then we slowed and stopped at a place called Colne. Stone built, hilly town not unlike Bradford just smaller. I remember a vending machine on the platform, one penny a bar of chocolate, which we all shared.

We were taken by bus to a school at the other end of town. This was the Evacuee Centre, where we recieved a bag of goodies each. A comic book (mine Comic Cuts),an apple, a sandwich and three, yes THREE bars of chocolate to myself! I don't think I ever had a whole bar to myself before. I looked at it and sat on the school hall, waiting to be picked up by our hosts. Single children were soon taken, but those with brothers and sisters waited what seemed like a long time and I was getting hungry. I ate a small piece of chocolate, which quickly became the whole bar. It was Rowntrees'York plain, not so good as a child, it tasted bitter, but I was hungry.

My mother came to me and said 'Don't eat anymore of that chocolate today or you will be sick', she also told me she had to go. I was to stay with Harold, my young brother aged 5. When she knew where we would be staying she said she would come and visit us. My eldest sister Violet would be watching me until we were chosen. Harold and I were among the last to be picked but we were very lucky and went to stay with Mr and Mrs Brown, who were very kind to us. He was a bus inspector, and they lived in a modern house with a proper bathroom. What a change of lifestyle! In Bradford we bathed in a tin bath in front of the fire and slept head to tail in one bed. Here we bathed in a real bath with hot and cold taps and warm towels. Bliss! We each had our own bed and before going upstairs we had warm milk and huge ginger biscuits, it was lovely.

Mr and Mrs Brown did not have children and were not so young. Thinking about it now we were indulged in a little luxury as a surrogate family, however it didn't last long for me. They found 2 active boys too much for their years, so I was moved on, leaving Harold at the Browns, he was near my sisters so he was Ok.

Life for me took a different road, my new home was a short distance away with a family called Roberts. They had a son around my age, who I played with, but of course he had his own friends, who taunted me because my speech was different from theirs. I was forever in minor fights. Mrs Roberts cooking was unlike my mothers. I remember her rice pudding was fawn and sloppy, whilst my mothers was white and firm, a skin on top,lip-licking stuff! The potatoes were always cut into lumps (we had mash at home) and there was often cabbage, which I never liked. I was called fussy and ungrateful and of course this couldn't last so I was soon on the move again.

This time I was taken to Mr and Mrs Johnstone (Auntie and Uncle Joe)at the other end of town near the railway station, far from my friends and family. Now I knew what it was like to be truly alone. It was very different from what had gone before, only cold water except what was heated on the fire or in a kettle on the gas stove. We used a tin bath in the scullery, which had a cold stone floor and was very draughty, at least at home we bathed in front of the fire. Winter was coming and I had lots to do, helping to earn my keep.

The Johnstone's family were all grown up, Bessie the youngest was 21, living at home. Shortly after I arrived she met a soldier, a sergeant in the East Lancashire Regiment. They married in 1940, before he went to Burma, where he fought the Japanese. He was injured and captured. There was alot of sadness when we got the news.

I started school where I seemed the only boy evacuee. I was happy there, some bullying was inevitable but I had been brought up the hard way so could scrap when I had to, specs or no specs, after a few weeks they left me alone. I sat an exam which I found out much later I had passed, to go to grammar school. There were no funds so the chance was lost. I was sent to senior school and one of the teachers lived in the same street as the Johnstone's Miss Aston came to see if there was any way I could be sent to grammar school, she said I wasted where I was. Though I sat and passed another exam for an assisted place I left, I did like that school though. It was a modern building in large grounds. Pupils could have an allotment in which they could grow vegtables if they wished.

It was not an easy life, I had to clear the ashes then light the fire in the morning before taking the dog for a walk and bringing in the morning paper , 'The Daily Dispatch'. I would often go to the grocers or greengrocers before running to school. I was sometimes late and if it had not been for Miss Ashton I'm sure I would have canned more often than I was. She knew I had alot to do.

After school there was always jobs to do. Wood to chop, coal to fetch in from the outside coal-house, table to set for tea, bread to cut, potatoes to peel and then take the peelings to the hen-runs. I was usually busy unless there were visitors, then I was sent out to play.

There were only a few boys locally who were my age and they didn't want me in their gang. I suppose by the time I got out to play, they had already sorted their teams out and I was surplus. So in the evenings I would read, usually Biggles or an adventure story. I was encouraged to go to church where I joined a choir which I enjoyed, somehow I always missed out on the choir trips. On non school days I would walk in the countrylanes and hills and on a Saturday afternoon I often went to the Savoy or Hipperdrome cinema. Sweets were rationed but were chose for their long-lasting qualities. There were no crisps in those days.

Mr Johnstone (Uncle Joe) worked on munitions, usually away. When he was home he would take me fishing. The cat got most of what we caught in the canal. Sometimes he would get permission to fish for trout (only 3 fish)in the local lake. They were not very big but were tasty. Other times he would take me walking to other villages and beauty spots. We would pick blackberries in season and sometimes find wild fungi. It all helped with the rations. He taught me much about wildlife, birds,plants and flowers.

There was a dog, Whisky, she went everywhere with me and gave me lots of fun. She once chased a squirrel and I had to catch her and drag her a long way before I could release her lead again. Sadly she went blind and was killed by a bus when she walked in front of it. Oh how I missed her. Everytime I went to the butchers I was reminded of her by the bones he used to give her. I did not have time to mope. I was kept busy doing various jobs. Each day there was shopping which meant queuing for most things. Although we could get bread easily, cakes and buns or pastries were severely rationed and I often queued for 2 hours on a Saturday morning for 6 buns or a cake with mock cream. I don't know how the cream was made but it tasted alright. other jobs I did were whitewashing the outside toilet, or was it limewashing? hoovering and swilling the backyard. I did not mind that squirting water about with a stirrup pump got a quick clean result. I even washed Aunties feet and combed her hair, but that wasn't hard work.

After some time, perhaps 9 months, another evacuee came to stay. Peter from Keighley. His mum had died and his father had him evacuated. He too was given tasks to do, which meant that while he was with us I had less to do. He didn't like the situation so ran away. We heard later he had thumbed a lift whilst walking over the moors towards home. Anyway it seems he got home Ok.

Later still, a women with a small boy came to stay, but she couldn't settle up north, she was always cold, so she went back to London despite the Blitz.
It's ironic that having been evacuated to get away from the bombs of Bradford that I was awoken one night by a bright light outside my bedroom window. The following morning the Civil Defence man came and discovered the remains of a flare. They believed it had been dropped from a German aircraft on it's way to bomb the Manchester area. I was told it was Manchester being bombed but I wasn't sure. The flare incident made me many short term friends as all my classmates wanted the story firsthand.

When I was 13, I got a job helping on a local farm on Saturdays, it was hard work but sometimes fun too. They paid me two shillings a day for cleaning out the milking shed, collecting hen eggs (a newly laid one is rubbery to touch so it was best to leave them to harden). Calling in the cows for milking was easy, you just opened the gates and closed them when the cows had gone through. The cows knew where to go, even their own stalls. I also got a bucket of of cow or pig manure, which I swapped for some mushrooms with a man who grew them in a very dark cellar. It was ok at the farm, as I also got some dinner and it was good. Sometimes, if there were plenty, I would also get a few eggs to take home. They were scarce, so were much appreciated to help with rations.

I had a seaside holiday In June/July 1944 when I was taken to Walney Island, Barrow in Furness. Mrs Johnstone had a daughter living there, May and Jack Smith. They of course worked in the shipyards, where I saw aircraft carriers and submarines being bulit and launched. Quite Exciting! Most of the time I was left to my own devices, so I would go down to the beach, but it's not much fun on your own. One day I found some cans without labels. They turned out to be jam and fruit, which was rationed. Word got around about my find and before long the beach was busy for several days, as more cans were washed up. We believed thay had been on a ship that had been sunk in the war and floated in on the tides.

I left school at 14 and found employment learning to weave ribbons. The manager of the mill was a relative of Mr Johnstone and he let me weave the samples for medal ribbons, for the Africa & Burma Star and the Atlantic medal. There were others but these were the ones we got the contract to weave. We also wove stripes for the Army and Airforce and of course ordinary ribbons too. The foreman at the mill was German, which seemed strange, but he hated Hitler and was glad to see him defeated. He taught me a great deal, he was a good man.

Sometime after V.E.Day but before V.J.Day I was taken home to Bradford. As an evacuee I had spent 5 years away from my family. Some holiday! Now it was time for peace. Back home I tried woollen textile work but I was plaqued by boils. I got an apprenticeship as a mason-bricklayer. I liked the outside work and stayed in the building trade until I retired. I went back to part-time work as a games attendant in a local park, a happy, easy job but poorly paid.

I still visit my old haunts at Colne, for I have many happy memories of my stay and I did learn so much there.

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