大象传媒

Evacuation 鈥� the worst time of our lives:

The first thing I remember about the war was our evacuation. We did not go with the first evacuees in 1939. It was September 1940 that my brother Roy and I aged six and eight at the time were taken to our school in Ellerslie Road, Shepherds Bush, London, and put on a bus with other children from the same school. We all had labels tied on our coats and carried gas masks in brown cardboard boxes over our shoulders. We were taken to Willesden Junction Station and put on a train to Bletchley.

There we were taken to a hall of some kind. I was holding on to Roy's hand for dear life as Mum had said "don鈥檛 let them separate you, you must keep together".

It was like a cattle market, all the scared children, most of who had never been out of London before, and the grown-ups walking round picking which children they wanted. Some wanted two girls or two boys or just one child, we were scared we would be split up because people didn't seem to want one of each.

Eventually we went to a lady with two daughters of her own, she was quite nice but we didn't stay long as she was expecting another baby. I remember her husband worked in a brick factory. We went to another family whose husband was in the Army. They had four children of their own. So started the worst time of our young lives.

The stairs to our bedroom had a door at the bottom. We were often made to sit on those stairs with the door shut and no light on. We were terrified, it was so dark. Our beds were straw ones on the floor in the attic. We had to keep ourselves clean; there was a tin bath in the outhouse which I had to fill with hot water which I had to boil on the stove. Then I had to bath myself and Roy.

When we went away I had long hair down my back; by the time we were taken home my hair was cut like a boy鈥檚 and Roy's cropped short to his head. We were both alive with fleas, which I now put down to sleeping on the straw.

Mum used to send us parcels; some of the things we were allowed to keep, such as pixie hats for me and socks for Roy. The sweets and comics we never got. The pixie hats I kept on in school to cover my awful hair. One was blue, the other red; they were knitted in blackberry stitch. The boys at school used to pull them off and I would cry because I was so embarrassed. I鈥檝e often wondered why the teachers didn't see what was happening to us.

Two separate days stand out vividly. One of them was the day we were sent out in the bitter cold; we weren't allowed to stay in-doors. We went to the park. We hadn't been there long when the eldest girl came and said we must go straight back as our Mum and Dad had come to see us. As we were excited we ran all the way, but when we got there the woman said they couldn't wait and had gone. This wasn't possible because it all happened within forty minutes of our leaving the house. The other day we went to the park again but it was snowing this time. Roy was crying with the cold; I didn't know what to do as we dare not go back to the house.

Two girls we were evacuated with were sisters, Betty and Enid Gibbs, their Mum and ours were friends so I decided to go with Roy to where they were billeted. Their lady took us in, she was so kind. I wish I could remember her name. She sat us by the fire and gave us hot food and some thick lumps of chocolate. She darned Roy's socks which had really big holes in them. When we got back we were in trouble about those socks.

I couldn't write home to let Mum know what was happening to us as the eldest girl sat with me and told me what to put - things like we were happy and liked it there. It was different when the husband came home on leave. He would sit us on his knee in front of the fire and was kind to us. I don't think he knew how she treated us; he was the complete opposite of her.

One day Mum, and Dad who was in the RASC turned up unexpectedly. They had come to take us home. The lady who took us in that day had written to Mrs. Gibbs about the state we were in. She told Mum, and then Dad got special leave to come and find out what was happening.

When we got to London we went straight to Lime Grove swimming baths which was a cleansing station where we were examined. Before you were evacuated you had a medical to see you were fit and clean and there were records kept - they could tell the difference in us. We left with our heads bandaged, a fine tooth comb and some Durback soap to wash our hair in and get rid of the fleas. I well remember sitting with our heads over newspaper and Mum combing out the fleas and cracking them with her fingernails.

Dad took the case to the local M.P. The woman was never allowed evacuees again.

Home Again 鈥� and safe in the middle of war:

I remember feeling safe once we were home. I didn鈥檛 care how many bombs dropped, I would sooner be at home than evacuated. The only sad part was that Dad wasn't there. He had been sent abroad with what we later found out was the 8th Army.

We lived in the White City Flats, Shepherds Bush in the middle of bombing targets. There were railway lines, an armament factory and Wormwood Scrubs (on which there were Ack-Ack Guns), searchlights and barrage balloons. One of the ground floor flats was an Air-Raid Shelter - bricked up and sandbagged and big metal poles from floor to ceiling. I suppose they were reinforcements. We had to sleep in there every night, I remember having a lot of earache while sleeping there. The other type of shelter, which we called dugouts, were Anderson shelters round the back of the flats dug down into the soil with corrugated iron over the top. People covered them with soil and grew their vegetables on top. The trouble was the rain got in so people stopped using them.

We went about our lives as normal as possible and went back to school but often we were sent home again as the school was being used as a rest centre for people who had been bombed out.

There were funny sides to the war as well. One day there was a rumour going round the estate that everyone had permission to go to a massive field nearby where tons of coal had been stockpiled, to help themselves because of the fear of it being set alight with the bombing. As you can imagine it was like human ants all over it with old prams and barrows and anything they could carry it away in - a big bonus as coal was rationed. Mum's bunker was full and a big pile was in the wash-house. Then the police came; they knocked on doors but they never got an answer.

Because coal was scarce Roy and I had to take a wooden trolley on old pram wheels and some empty sacks and walk to Kensal Green Gas works and queue up with lots of other kids to buy a disc to pay for coke. We then handed the disc to a man who filled our sacks after weighing it in a big scoop. Then the very long walk home.

During the war Mum was a clippie (a bus conductress) on the 105 Buses out of Shepherds Bush Garage. Sometimes we went and rode the whole journey with her and sometimes when we got back we went to the pie and mash shop where we had pie, mash and green liquor. It was lovely. If Mum was on the last bus she had to walk home in the blackout with the bombs dropping sometimes. The blackout meant everywhere was pitch dark as there wasn't any street lighting and everyone had to line their curtains with black material. If you let a chink of light through an ARP warden would shout "put that light out."

Money was also short. Roy, more often than me, had to go to "uncles" to pawn things - that was the nickname of the pawnbroker. You took things in at the beginning of the week and got them out again at the weekend for a small charge on the money you had loaned; I hated doing it.

We had a family next door to us - a Mr and Mrs Price who had two sons. The eldest was Frank, a conscientious objector on religious grounds. He had quite a bad time of it as people wouldn鈥檛 talk to him - they thought he should be in the forces and they called him names like 鈥渃onchie".

Most of the kids in the area went to Saturday cinema at the Savoy in East Acton. We called it 鈥済oing to the flicks鈥�. It was especially for children with serials to keep you going every week; sometimes we went to afternoon matinees which were for adults as well. It would cost sixpence in the morning and nine old pennies in the afternoon. If the film was certificate "A" we would go along the queue and ask an adult to "take us in Missus or Mister". They mostly did but once you were inside you left them. Can't see that happening now!

On one such visit in the afternoon the Pathe News came on and I was thunderstruck to see my Dad in a line of soldiers being inspected by Field Marshal Montgomery. It was in the desert in Egypt. I sat and watched it twice so that I could see him again, It was pitch dark when I got outside. I told Mum when I got home and a neighbour had seen it as well so Mum went the next day but they had changed the news items. Dad served at El Alamein but would never go to the reunions. He was also in Italy, Sicily and Greece.

Another time there was a photo in the Daily Mirror headed as far as I can remember "Stuck in the mud in Italy." It was of a big canvas covered truck and they were trying to dig it out of the mud and Dad was in the picture.

When the doodle bugs started I wasn't frightened; I remember standing on the balcony watching them and shouting "the lights gone out " as just before they fell the flare behind them went out and you knew they were going to explode. You knew they were coming as the air raid siren went off. We called the siren Moaning Minnie.

At about this time Roy was playing truant from school. We called it 鈥榟opping the wag鈥�. The teachers kept sending me home to look for him, but I could never find him. It turned out he had built what he called a camp with his friend Charlie West in the middle of a field, covered in old bricks and wood from bomb debris. We had school dinners - everyone did then. When he was truanting Mum used to ask him what he had for dinner; he always came up with the same answer (meat, greens and potatoes with prunes and custard for afters). This was before he was found out.

The bombing got worse; one blocks of flats, Blaxland House, got a direct hit and quite a few people lost their lives. One family I remember in particular consisted of Mum, Dad who was in the Navy, a daughter who was a Wren and two schoolboy sons who were often dressed sailor boy outfits. The Dad and Daughter were on leave. That night the boys went to the air-raid shelter but the others stayed in the flat and were killed. The boys were saved.

Because the bombing was getting bad and Roy had been found out, Mum went to live with her friend Kit, also a clippie, so one of them was nearly always at home. Kit鈥檚 grown up daughter stayed with us if Mum and Kit were on the same shift. I changed school as Kit lived in Hammersmith. Mum explained to the headmaster the trouble she was having with Roy playing truant. One day there was a very bad air-raid and she went to the school to meet Roy. All the kids came out but no Roy so she went in to fetch him. When she asked, the headmaster said "Roy Colley? We've never seen him, he has never attended this school". He had been playing truant again and was walking the streets all the time the bombs were dropping. Mum was at her wits end; she wrote to Dad who advised her to evacuate him again which she did. He was sent to St. Austell in Cornwall.

He remembers the journey very well as the train was machine gunned by a German plane and the teacher made all the children lie on the floor. When they arrived he was taken by a nice couple with no children of their own; he remembers them as an older couple who lived on a farm. Roy absolutely loved it there, they were very good to him and he didn't want to go home.

I refused to be evacuated again. I got very upset at the mention of it after the last experience so it was decided I would go to my Dad鈥檚 sister Elsie in Ruislip where it was safe from the bombing. Her husband, my uncle Jim, was in the RAF so there was just my auntie and cousin Alan (about three years old) and myself there. We all slept together in the Morrison shelter, a big steel construction used as a table during the day and a bed at night. You slid into it under the table top then wire mesh was fixed all round the sides to stop any glass and debris if the windows blew in from a bomb blast. It was quite comfortable.

When I went home again I was very surprised and thrilled to find I had a new baby brother Derek; he was fast asleep in my doll's bed. He was just like a doll as he was very small, being premature. He used to lay out on the balcony in it for fresh air. As toys were hard to get the man next door had made the doll's bed for me and a fort for Roy for Xmas. They were both really nice:

One day we had a visit from my Gran and Grandad Colley (Dad鈥檚 parents). While they were there a loud knocking came from the front door. The next door neighbour was there shouting 鈥淪am's coming, Sam's coming鈥� and jumping up to look over the balcony. I could see my Dad, I could not believe it. Everyone was on the balcony except Grandad. When I went back inside he was literally stuck in the armchair with tears running down his face. He was a big man and couldn鈥檛 get out of the armchair unless someone helped him. He thought the world of my Dad - he never called him Sam, he always called him 鈥楬appy鈥� - that was his special name for him because that was his nature. Dad had to go back to Greece when his leave was over. When that time came Grandad said to Dad "I won鈥檛 see you again son" and he didn't as Grandad died before he came home again.

After he went back Roy came home from Cornwall; he was fat, something he had never been. He kept calling Mum 鈥榓untie鈥� as that is what he called the lady he had stayed with. He called her that for a long time. He really loved it in Cornwall and didn't want to come back to London.

Things started to get back to normal apart from food and clothes rationing which went on for a long time. We went back to school full time. When VE Day was declared there were such celebrations; we had a big street party and there were bonfires.

Sometime after VJ Day there was a knock on the front door and a man stood there asking for Dad. I said 鈥楧ad's not home yet, he is still abroad鈥�. He replied "Don't you know me?" It was Dad's best friend Whistle - he had been a prisoner of war in Japanese hands and was so thin I didn't recognise him.

When Dad finally came home for good from Greece there was no-one at home as Roy and I were at school and Mum was out shopping. I got home first and naturally he asked how everyone was. He asked about his Dad and I just said "Oh he's dead" I remember he just walked out of the room. How could I have told him like that? I suppose it was child like.

I always vowed if there was another war and I had children I would never let them be evacuated. Thank God it never happened.

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