大象传媒

In 1947 when I was 7 years old I lived at number 29 Westland Terrace,Yeovil,with my parents and sister Janet.In a house almost opposite ours lived a boy,same age as me,called Trevor Hoyle.Trevor was a bit of a rascal who often seemed to be in trouble.For instance I remember going out to play one day when Trevor appeared around the side of his house carrying a bucket.
'What you got there Trevor?'I called.
'Come and have a look'he said.
As I got near he upped the bucket and tipped the contents over my head.It was stinking manure water that his father kept in the garden for feeding his tomato plants.Soaked through I went home crying.Immediately my mother took me by the ear to show me to Trevor's mother & demand some sort of retribution on Trevor.
Because we were the same age we were in the same class at school and our classroom was on the first floor of an old stone building.The drill was that should the air-raid siren go while we were in class ,like a fire drill,all the children would line up by the door,and under the guidance of'Miss',descend the stairs to sit cross legged in the main central corridor,which was reckoned to be the strongest and safest place to be.There we would sing a song or two,while waiting for the all-clear to sound.
On this particular day the warning siren sounded about quarter to twelve,just before dinner time.We duly filed down the stairs to our corridor and sat down.
At home soon after midday my mother went to the front door (she later told me),to see if the children by any chance were on their way home.She looked out to see Mrs Hoyle,with Trevor,at her front door.Mrs Hoyle shouted across the road 'Has your lad come home from school,because Trevor has.' My mother assured Mrs Hoyle that us children would not be released from school while the warning was on.'well,'said Mrs Hoyle,'if I thought Trevor has come home when he shouldn't have I'll give him a good hiding,' and she went in and closed the door.
Five minutes later a German bomber dropped a string of bombs in a line,aiming for the westland Aircraft Factory just up the road.They missed the factory and fell across the houses where we lived.One landed in our garden and the next one landed smack on the house where the Hoyles lived,a direct hit.Their house was blown to bits,with Trevor and his mother inside.Not a trace was ever found of either of them.
It later became clear that what had happened at school was that when the class of children had gone to their air-raid positions Trevor had wangled his way to the end of the line but instead of following behind the rest of us he'd bunked off and slipped out a back entrance to run home.

I told this story to the children at that same school (Huish Primary) when I became a teacher there many years later.I used it to impress on them to do what they were told,because as I said to them,'If Trevor Hoyle had behaved as he was supposed to,he would be a man today,like me.Instead he was naughty and so his life ended when he was a little boy,just seven years old.'

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