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15 October 2014
WW2 - People's War

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A TWO TIME EVACUEE

by HnWCSVActionDesk

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Archive List > Childhood and Evacuation

Contributed byÌý
HnWCSVActionDesk
People in story:Ìý
Michael Andrews
Location of story:Ìý
Ealing, Kent
Background to story:Ìý
Civilian
Article ID:Ìý
A5979225
Contributed on:Ìý
01 October 2005

A TWO TIMES EVACUEE

I was just over 3 years old on September 3rd 1939. My family were living in Ealing, and the local siren went off the same day. Perhaps it was just being tested.

Some time in mid 1940, Mum took me to Bromley South, station and sat me on the parapet of the bridge. Trains were going by underneath, made up of all sorts of carriages, but what I most remember were the open coal trucks full of soldiers with white bandages on. I now know it was the men of the B.E.F coming back from Dunkirk.

We were walking up Grosvenor Road in West Wickham. Mum and I, when a German ‘plane whizzed overhead, firing its guns at us. We weren’t hit, but we were showered in bullet cases. If I shut my eyes, I can see it to this day.

When the blitz really started, I was evacuated to Hartpury (Glos). I really thought I had been there for 8 — 9 months. I went back to the school a few years ago to see if my name was there. I had only been there for 8 weeks! I was just over 4 years old at the time — no wonder I was mistaken. Looking at the school records, it must have been a nightmare for the Head, coping with an influx of probably 100 children, ranging from 4 — 14 years old.

The main memories when I went back home was scavenging the streets after the now, infrequent air raids for shrapnel (bits of bombs), and receiving letters and drawings from my Dad, who was a trooper in the 9th Lancers (a tank regiment).

When V1 and V2 Rockets started, I was evacuated again. This time to Torquay. My main memories of schooling was being sent into fields of cabbages with a jam jar and told to pick off the caterpillars!

I was back home again and on the night of V.E day there were candles lit in the gutter, a wind-up gramophone and people dancing in the street.

Dad came home around mid-August. He had saved so many things for me from his travels — insects from the North African desert, medals, coins, stamps etc. I just wish I had written him a few more letters.

This story was submitted to the People’s War site by June Woodhouse of the CSV Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Hereford and Worcester on behalf of Michael Andrews and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions

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