大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Liz Gray of Tadley Learning Centre on behalf of Ann Broad nee Harley and has been added to the site with his/her permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

My War and Evacuation Memories.
At the beginning of the war my family (Dad, Mum, Carole and myself) were on holiday in Kent so it was decided that my father should return home as he had to go to work whilst my mother, my sister and I stayed 鈥榦n holiday鈥�. When nothing seemed to be happening we returned home as well. As home at that time was in Streatham very near to the centre of London, my father found a house to rent further out in Berrylands, near Surbiton and this was where I spent my childhood during the war.

My memories of the war are odd scenes; having to crowd into the cupboard under the stairs because the air-raid warning (the siren) had sounded whilst I was at a birthday party, taking my gas mask to school in a box together with my enamel mug for my school milk at playtime and sleeping in/under the Morrison shelter indoors. My strongest memory is of being crouched under the Morrison shelter listening to a buzz bomb (doodle bug/V1 rocket) coming over and knowing that if the engine noise stopped when it was overhead I would be killed.

Trying my gas mask on one day I thought to myself that if I ever had to wear it, it would be dust that got me rather than gas!

The V2 bombs didn鈥檛 worry me because you couldn鈥檛 hear them until they landed and then it was too late to worry.

I knew what buzz bombs sounded like but didn鈥檛 know what they looked like. When I asked my Mum she said they had square wings so then I was always on the lookout for them. After the war they had a complete one on show in the forecourt of Surbiton station.

Once or twice we had to go down into the shelters which ran along the side of the playing field of Grand Avenue Primary School, a long mound covered with grass which remained there for many years after the war.

It was at the time of the buzz bombs in 1944, when I was eight, that I decided (according to my recollection but not my Mother鈥檚) that everyone else had been evacuated, so why shouldn鈥檛 I? With one other girl aged twelve (Beryl Birchmore), I had my wish. We went by train to Cardiff in South Wales. Later I heard that two trains had somehow got mixed up and in fact we should have gone to Devon.

Arriving in Cardiff my next memory is of being a hall where the local people came and picked out the children they were willing to look after. Beryl and I were chosen by a Mr. & Mrs. Davis who had two older children, Alan who was in the Royal Navy and Elsie who had her twenty first birthday whilst I was staying there. Mr. Davis was an engine driver and we all lived in their terraced house in Llanishen Street, Heath, Cardiff.

The first two or three nights were awful, I suffered terrible homesickness, made worse by the fact that my suitcase had been lost (it turned up later) and I had to sleep in my vest and knickers. Also there were three of us in a double bed, Elsie, Beryl and I 鈥� and I had always had my own bed at home!

Having got over that I began to enjoy myself. I went to the junior school which was in our street and learnt a Welsh folk song, part of which I can still remember. The only annoyance was that I could already do joined-up writing and they wanted me to go back to writing in script. There was also a wireless in the classroom and we listened to schools鈥� programmes.

Mrs. Davis wasn鈥檛 as strict as my mother about attending school and I had one afternoon off when she took me to the cinema to see a famous film star, Bing Crosby, in a film called 鈥楪oing My Way鈥�. My mother would not have approved. Mrs. Davis also took me to visit a friend of hers who worked in the second largest hotel in Cardiff. The carpets in the hotel were so thick we seemed to sink into them, something I had never come across before. Her friend worked in the Linen Room where all the sheets, towels etc. were ironed and then stored and my memory is of having tea and biscuits in this warm, pleasant smelling room.

Another outing was to Roath Park in Cardiff where there was a boating lake with a lighthouse on an island in the centre. Elsie took us on the lake in a rowing boat and made the not unusual mistake of trying to get out onto the bank without help and finished up with one leg in the water and the other in the boat.

Whilst I was in Cardiff I had my 9th birthday (October) and Mrs. Davis gave me a party. Unfortunately this is the only birthday on which I have cried, which as you know is unlucky. The windows of the house were (and still are) sash windows which means they open by being pushed upwards. During the party I had a slight disagreement with a boy 鈥� I wanted the window open and he wanted it shut. I had my fingers under the window pushing up upwards and he was pushing down. He was stronger and my middle finger was crushed between the window and the frame 鈥� hence the tears and a black finger nail!

My mother came to visit me a couple of times which was lovely but after she had gone I was very homesick again. My parents wrote letters to me and I wrote to them. Three of my letters have survived and you can see copies. My Dad also sent me some chocolate he had made for me because he knew how much I loved chocolate. It came in a flat tin and was a much paler colour than bought chocolate but it was lovely and especially so because my father had made it for me.

Travel into Cardiff town centre was by tram. You put sixpence into a slot in a tin box, it then rattled down a tube into the metal container at the bottom and you could travel on the tram for as long as you wished for this money

After three months Beryl returned home but I stayed for another month.

When I got home it was found that I had a head full of fleas! (head lice). And then there was no quick way of getting rid of them as there is now. I had to kneel with my head tipped back whilst my mother combed my hair with a fine-toothed comb time after time, which made my head very sore. She then dealt with the fleas which dropped onto the newspaper鈥�

A fine end to my evacuation adventure 鈥� and it was an adventure 鈥� I enjoyed it very much.

Postscript:

About 14 years ago I returned to Cardiff for the first time since 1944. I went and found the house I had stayed in and also the school I attended.

I took photos and when I saw a lady going through the gate to the house. I spoke to her and said I hoped she didn鈥檛 mind me photographing her house. She said she didn鈥檛 mind but why was I taking the photo. I explained about being evacuated to Cardiff and that this was the house I had stayed in. She put her hand on my arm and said, 鈥淲hat is your name?鈥� I told her and she said 鈥淚鈥檓 Elsie鈥�. It was the daughter of Mrs. Davis who with her brother Alan still lived in the house. She asked about Beryl and I had the distinct impression that she had preferred Beryl (who was a quiet girl). Oh well! But what a coincidence meeting Elsie again 鈥� it made my return visit complete.

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