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This story was written/submitted to the People’s War Website by Ciara Garland (Volunteer) on behalf of Mrs Vera Grant and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Vera Grant fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

VERA: THE EVACUEE
A memory from the Second World War

Why Evacuate?
There was nothing for it. Evacuation was the only way to keep us safe. The threat of Hitler either invading or finally succeeding with his bombing were we lived had grown so high. Evacuation meant us children would be sent into parts of the country where bombing was unlikely (away from the big cities)
My family had been using an Anderson shelter ( a round, steel structure) in the garden every night for a while. I hated it. We all did though! About six of us would all cram in. The shelters would run with water. We only had a blackout curtain over the door and the rain would get it something terrible! Condensation (from us) didn’t help matters either! Us children never realised the danger we were in. It was all a game to us. We never felt the fear I suppose my parents must have. Mum still didn’t think it was safe for us to stay and decided us children must be evacuated to somewhere free of the bombing.

On Our Way…
The day I was evacuated. It comes back like yesterday, even now.
Pandemonium. Anxious tiny faces right, left and centre.
The year was 1940. I lived in Walthamstow, London, and I was eight years old. It took place up at my primary school - a place big enough for all the kids and all the buses (no trains for us!) to cram into.
We were all ‘sectioned off’ onto different buses. Luckily myself, my brother Cyril and sister Margaret were all able to travel together.
We were headed to Findon, Northamptonshire, although, sadly, we were not to be staying all together during our evacuation.

Life In Findon…
My sister, Margaret, ended up staying with a gentleman who owned a cinema. My brother, Cyril, stayed with a family in another part of Findon. And I went to what turned out to be a very nice family named the Clarks. There were two children, slightly older than I was: a son, Roy, aged 12, and a daughter, Mary, aged 11.

We all went to the local schools and became part of life in our strange, but not unpleasant, new homes. Our mother used to come down and visit us on the train when possible. We were away from home during that Christmas time and so she sent us two parcels with our presents in! I can’t say I felt too sad about being away from home as I got on well with the Clarks, and their children and I were good friends. I suppose we were all lucky to be placed with family (s)that were so nice to us.

Coming Home…
When were returned home our mother had an indoor shelter installed in the dining room which was a big improvement on the dark and damp outside shelter.

At the end of the war, in a cleared bomb site, in nearby Hoe Street, horrific and disturbing pictures showing the horrors the Jewish people suffered at the hands of the Nazis were exhibited to show us the atrocities that had taken place and what we had fought to put an end to.

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