大象传媒

Evacuation 1940.

I suppose these days if someone were to suggest that you pack a few clothes in a small suitcase , pin an address label on your 6 year old child , take him to the station, to be handed over to complete strangers. Where he would be put on a train to travel hundreds of miles , not knowing when you would see him again. You would be horrified and rightly so. But that is exactly what happened to me and thousands like me in 1940

We eventually arrived in the late evening at Launceston in Cornwall . There was a noisy interlude in the Town Hall where people tried to sort us out. This was memorable to me chiefly because of the big bun and mug of tea I was given. Later still I and 5 other lads arrived at a small Farm house some 7 miles along the A30 from Launceston. My main memory of that night was of us standing in a group looking at what appeared to be an elderly couple , now of course I realise they were no more that 50. We were asked our names and ages and what our fathers did. I said mine was a soldier. Dad had been a territorial before the war and so amongst the first to be called up. There was another John and a Richard in our group so it was decided to call me Jack for the time being. I don鈥檛 know where we all slept that night there were only three bedrooms and one of those was very small. I suppose 3 or 4 must have been in one bed.

The next day the 6 of us were allowed to walk to the village of Fivelanes a mile away to the shop where I immediately established my reputation by only buying a 1/2d bar of chocolate.

The Farm where we stayed was a small holding of 20 acres called Strylands . When we arrived it was purely a dairy farm with a dozen or so cows a few pigs some sheep and a lot of hens as well as a horse a dog and varying population of cats. Later the ministry made us grow wheat and potatoes to help the war effort.

Over the next six months 4 of the lads were taken back home again . Peter and I were together for another 6 months and then he too went home. I was to stay there the whole of the War because sadly,soon after I had arrived my mother died . So my younger brother went live with dad鈥檚 married sister and our rented home was let to someone else. However I didn鈥檛 find out about all this for some time , and children being very adaptable ,I settled down quite happily. Aunty and Uncle as I called them being childless soon made me one of the family.

Uncle was a Methodist lay preacher and joint Superintendent of the Sunday School .The Chapel we attended was at Altarnun. It seemed vast to me , I suppose it seated about 200 the pews had doors on the ends and it was lit like most homes by oil lamps. The first time I was taken there I caused some amusement by remarking loudly after one hymn 鈥淚 liked that song Aunty鈥�

Soon an unquestioning Sunday routine developed .Once the cows had been milked and the other animals fed, Uncle and I would get washed at the kitchen sink. There was a bathroom , but you had to go out the front door and round the side of the house to reach it . There was no hot water system anyway. It had been built for the benefit of summer Holiday makers pre war. Then in our best clothes Uncle and I would set off to walk the mile and a half to chapel pushing his bike. If we were entertaining the preacher for lunch the bike would be left behind so that we could travel home in the preachers car, or sometimes a pony and trap. If not we would go home on the bike with me sitting on a cushion tied to the cross bar. Aunty would have lunch ready in the front room. I was fortunate in that there was no lack of good food as we were mostly self sufficient with rabbits and chickens to help out the meat ration. There was plenty of fresh vegetables and cream ,Junket, home grown fruit and suet puddings for desert.

After lunch I would set off once more to Altarnun for the afternoon Sunday School. This was held in a hall over the top of the stables owned by the local milkman. He came to Chapel too . He was well known for his deep voice which was seldom in tune with the rest of the singing. To get to the Hall we had to climb a stone staircase on the outside over the door was a bas relief of John Wesley. In side we sat on hard wooden benches which had hinged backrest so that by swinging it over you could sit facing the other way . Needless to say we boys loved to run down the room pushing the backs over Bang Bang Bang.

After Sunday School I went about fifty yards up the road to Mrs Pooley鈥檚 shop, This was a general shop and news agents. She also did fish and chips on Fridays and supplied the local farmers with a pasty, piece of cake and a cup of tea for 1/- at the monthly market held at Fivelanes. Mrs Pooley had a daughter Doreen who was away driving an ambulance, and a son Lionel, who was about 15. It was his job to keep me occupied for a couple of hours until tea time and the evening service. This he did by letting me read The Beano Dandy or any other comic they had in the shop. Uncle and Aunty would arrive for the evening service with the preacher if they had been entertaining him or perhaps in the pony and trap. I used to be very tired by the time we got home, but I did get to ride in some very interesting cars. Some of them in those days had a Dicky seat in the boot. I would ride there out in the fresh air. No safety belts then and some times in danger of the back shutting and trapping me in the boot. Another I particularly remember was Rev Bolitho鈥檚 Austin 7 , They were tiny little cars and he was a big man. There wasn鈥檛 much room for me in the front seat when he got in.

I can鈥檛 say that my school days were particularly good , I wasn鈥檛 a dunce I could read and write, but I had one or two handicaps which always seemed to put me on the wrong side of the Headmaster, who called me Parsons because that was the name of Aunty and Uncle. First of all to get me to school they enlisted the help of the milk lorry driver, We always left at a good hour but by the time we had called at several farms dropping off empties and picking up the full churns it was often 10 or 15 minutes past 9 when I was dropped at the school gate. Also Aunty and Uncle would often go to the market at Launceston on a Tuesday and take me with them. Next day Mr Turner would say to me 鈥渨here were you yesterday Parsons?鈥� to which I would reply鈥滻 had to get my hair cut in Lanson sir鈥� Of course it didn鈥檛 help that Mr Turner was a Tory while Mr Parsons was a staunch Liberal

There was no love lost either between the Church and the Chapel, each regarded the other with suspicion. On one unfortunate occasion I enabled the Church to score a few points. In school we had been learning a few lines of poetry and I told Aunty about it . She said she had learnt it when she was a girl and mentioned a bit of doggerel that her generation had substituted . I can鈥檛 remember exactly what it was now, something pretty innocuous like the way children sing 鈥� while shepherds washed their socks by night鈥� instead of watched their flocks. Any way soon after that we had a visit from the Vicars wife at the school . When she came to our class our teacher decided to show off our poetry and I was called to go and recite. Half way through I inserted the piece of Doggerel. The class collapsed in laughter , but I was made to explain where I had heard it. The Vicars wife declared it was just what one might expect from the Methodists. Aunty wasn鈥檛 pleased either when she heard the tale.

Being in Cornwall you may think we saw little of the War, and compared to the big cities and the south east that was true, but we did have our moments. Many nights we looked out of the bedroom windows to see the glow in the sky which we knew to be Plymouth burning 25 miles away. Then there was the Sunday when Uncle and I returned from Chapel just in time to see a large tank emerge from one of our fields close to the house. Apparently something went wrong as it was passing the farm and it did a sharp left turn through a 6ft high stone and earth wall. Being unable to reverse out it went right around the outside of the field leaving deep ruts and out of the hole it had come in through. 鈥� you鈥檙e lucky鈥� remarked a sergeant standing by watching, 鈥渢hat tank is full of live ammunition鈥�. Later on many troops were being disembarked at Falmouth in readiness for D-Day Some moved by lorry but many had to march past us to get to Devon and Hampshire. We saw many strange men of all colours and sizes in turbans and other strange hats. Mr Turner the head master , said there were a million men on the march and set us to work out how long it would take them to pass our school gates at 1 a second. We reckoned it would take nearly 12 days non-stop.

I mentioned oil lamps earlier on. This was our main source of lighting, with candles for the bedrooms. There were no mains of any sort, Water electricity or gas. So cooking was done on a day to day basis with paraffin stoves. The Kitchener was only lit on baking days. Drinking water was pumped from a well under the kitchen. Washing water was piped from a large rainwater tank. I never noticed the lack of modern amenities, but we did have one thing I had never seen before a telephone!

The Chapel folk were a very sociable lot. There were often rallies and concerts and harvest suppers. The concerts were often raising money for the war effort or something similar. The entertainment was home grown with monologues singing recitations and piano playing. On some occasions there would be a magic lantern show rather dim of course because it relied on oil lamps. One of the more memorable concerts took place every year at Christmas when we had our silver tree, So called because everyone tied little envelopes on the tree containing whatever they could afford to give. The least amount being a silver 3d piece hence the name. While the concert was going on two or three people would be opening the envelopes totalling the result which was received with cheers at the end of the evening.

Despite the war we still had Sunday School outings usually to the seaside at Trebarwith Strand which had marvellous beaches and lots of rock pools when the tide was out. Bude was another favourite.

In the course of the five years I spent there, I became a proper 鈥榝armers boy,鈥� doing many jobs around the farm. Fetching cows and helping with the milking, all by hand of course! Feeding the fowls and collecting eggs. Helping at harvest and with the threshing .I had occasional visits from the family. One Aunt turned up in ATS uniform. The other brought my brother to see me but we didn鈥檛 know each other and Dad of course , if he had enough leave he would spend one day getting down to the farm, two days wondering what I was turning into and another day getting back to his unit. He used to bring me toys which he had made himself, a wooden Spitfire was a favourite and the envy of all my friends. Dad like many, liked a glass of beer and sometime while we were in Chapel he would pop into the Kings arms for a pint. I don鈥檛 think he ever realised the scandal he caused in that temperance household. I was never pleased to see him go but I was glad to settle back down into routine of the farm.

Eventually the War ended and with it my fathers war service. So one day he came to collect me . I didn鈥檛 really want to go, Aunty and Uncle shed a few tears too. We went back to London to my Aunts to collect my brother, and the next day travelled on to Ditton in Kent. That evening I was introduced to my new step-sister and step 鈥攎other. How strange it all seemed. It took me a long time to settle down.

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