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EVACUATED BY PADDLE STEAMER FROM DAGENHAM, ESSEX TO OVERSTRAND, NORFOLK AND CHEADLE, STAFFORDSHIRE, AND LATER WORKING ON ENSA IN WW2.

BY JEAN GIBBINS (nee VALE).

At the outbreak of WW2 I was living with my parents and five brothers and sisters at St. George’s Road, Dagenham. On the 1st September 1939, my brother Douglas, aged 12 years and myself, aged 10 years, were awakened very early by our parents and told we were to be evacuated because of the threat of war. The word ‘evacuation’ was new to me, although we were aware of the threat of war and had been supplied with gas masks some time earlier.

I have since learned that schools in other boroughs had practice runs from the schools to the departure points, which prepared those children for the evacuation day. If our school had practice runs, it must have been while we were away on holiday in the early part of August. It was a complete surprise. Our parents must have been notified during the previous evening after we had gone to bed. Our belongings were already packed and we were soon ready to leave home.

The fact that my mother and younger brother John, aged three years, were going to accompany us helped us over the shock of separation from our home and family. Our three teenage sisters were going to stay at home with our father as they had all left school and were working.

We assembled at Fanshawe School, Dagenham, where we were given labels to wear. A special bus service to Dagenham Dock was in operation as it was still very early in the morning. There were crowds of people at Dagenham Dock Road making their way down to the Ford Jetty. Several paddle steamers were lined up at the jetty with more waiting out in the river Thames ready to replace them.

Only evacuees were allowed through the dock gates, which were very high wire gates and fencing that you could see through. The parents were clinging to the wire and calling out to their children. Lone fathers were trying to say goodbye to the mothers who were accompanying their children. Because our mother was with us and I was not unduly upset, as many others around me were, I watched and have never forgotten some of the scenes. No one knew where the evacuees were being taken.

We boarded the ‘Golden Eagle’ and set off for Great Yarmouth, stopping to pick up more evacuees at Tilbury. I have read since that after the paddle steamers left the Thames Estuary and entered the North Sea, they were escorted by vessels of the Royal Navy. On arrival at Great Yarmouth we were billeted in the ‘Garibaldi Hotel’, which was on the seafront. It was full of mothers and children. We shared a bedroom with a neighbour and her two young children, with most of us sleeping on the floor. I remember playing on the beach for hours that weekend and while playing there on the Sunday morning, 3rd September, our mother called us over to tell us the news that the war had been declared.

The next day, Monday 4th, all the evacuees boarded coaches to take them to other towns and villages in Norfolk. After six weeks billeted with the local butcher and his family at Mundesley, where there were no places available for Douglas and myself at the local school, we were transferred to Overstrand, near Cromer in Norfolk.

We were taken to The Pleasaunce, which was a very large property in spacious grounds. I seem to remember being told that it was a Church of England convalescent home, but I could be wrong. There were a large number of evacuated families already there.

The four of us shared a very large, comfortable bedroom with our own bathroom. There was a large dining room and lounge on the ground floor. The mothers were expected to help out with chores in the dining room and kitchen.

There were no places at the village school for the evacuees at that time and so we attended the local Reading Room, where two teachers did their best to cope with ages ranging from five to thirteen years. With no outside space there, we made the short walk to the beach where we enjoyed very lengthy breaks.

A children’s entertainer came to The Pleasaunce several time a week after our return from the Reading Room. He was called Uncle Eddie and he organised games and sing-songs. It was very enjoyable and something we all looked forward to. We were allowed to invite some of our evacuee friends who were billeted out in the village. Uncle Eddie was very popular and kept us all amused while the mothers were busy helping with the evening meal.

The gardens were beautiful with a rose garden, a sunken garden and cloisters. I spent a lot of time walking in the gardens with my mother and John in the evenings because my mother was very unhappy, in spite of our comfortable billet. When not with them in the gardens, I was with brother Douglas and the other evacuees exploring our new surroundings. Douglas and some of the older boys organised meetings for walks and games on the beach. These meetings kept us all together at weekends and we were very close and supportive of each other.

There were two young girls from Dagenham staying with a Mr. And Mrs. Green in the village. Their mother, Mrs. Locke, back home in Dagenham, took it upon herself to organise a coach from Dagenham to Overstrand, perhaps about every six weeks, for a day trip on a Sunday. My father and three teenage sisters would always be on the coach trip. They have since told us of the numerous occasions that the coach driver lost the way because all road signs were removed in wartime. He had to rely on the passengers for help with the directions, if they could remember.

There was a great deal of excitement waiting for the coach to arrive and the day passed so quickly. Once again, safely by the side of my mother and brothers, I witnessed the distress of children who ran after the departing coach, crying for their mothers to come back.

Mrs. Locke organised a longer visit for the first Christmas of the war. Lots of husbands and family members arrived and those that were unable to be accommodated in The Pleasaunce, found rooms in the village or the local pub. I cannot remember much about it except that there was a party on Christmas Day at The Pleasance and Uncle Eddie was there to organise the fun and the dancing.

Eventually we were provided with places in the village school. By then many of the evacuees had returned home. One very unhappy boy left Overstrand with the intention of walking home but he was picked up a few miles away at Holt. He was teased in the school playground for a long time afterwards with shouts of ‘Halt at Holt’!

Our mother was offered a bungalow in the village. It was a staff bungalow belonging to a Mr. And Mrs. F.W. Hampshire, owners of the Zube Cough Sweets Company and the Snowfire Cream Company. Their chauffeur, who had occupied the bungalow, had been called up for service in the forces. My mother seemed to settle well there and it was much better for her when the family visited. She made more friends in the village.

As the war progressed the east coast was viewed as an area at risk of invasion. The neighbouring beach at Sidestrand was mined and covered with barbed wire. We often heard loud explosions at sea. One explosion was the result of a merchant ship hitting a sandbank, or so we were told. Many of the villagers went down to the beach very early the next morning. The ship was lying on its side in shallow water with the tide going out. The cargo included sacks of dessicated coconut and these were floating about in the sea. When we arrived home from school later that day we learned that the women of the village had rescued some of the coconut and our mother had washed her share by placing it in pillowslips, which were hanging on the line to dry. She used it for making cakes!

However, because the area was now considered to be dangerous, our lives were soon to change when it was decided that the evacuee mothers and toddlers were to be sent home and the evacuee schoolchildren were to be transferred to Cheadle in Staffordshire. Our mother and John waved us off on a coach full of evacuees. It was a difficult separation and we did not see them again for about eighteen months.

On arrival in Cheadle later that day, Douglas and I were split up and sent to separate billets. From then on I mostly only saw him in the playground at school, unless a member of our family was visiting. I had always relied so much on him. It was the start of a long period of homesickness and loneliness. In the next two years we had two visits from our eldest sister and several visits from our father.

My first billet in Cheadle was with a young couple with a new baby. The husband was very considerate about my welfare but his wife seemed very irritable a lot of the time. She confronted me on one occasion in front of neighbours, asking me if I was Jewish. I had not at that time known any Jewish people to understand what she meant, but I did know it was something to do with Hitler, which frightened me, because I thought I was being accused of something. Living there was not a successful arrangement.

A few weeks after my brother and I had been in Cheadle, our eldest sister, Kathleen, aged 20 years, was sent to see how we were settling in. On arrival at my billet she was not asked in. The reason for this was never explained. I was told that my sister was at the door and to go out and talk to her. My sister was upset at this and so I took her to the home of a local girl, a friend at school. Her parents were quite concerned and insisted that she stayed the weekend with them, although she had come prepared to book into the local hotel.
It was through this family that I heard of a family who were willing to have me. I visited the local council offices on my own and asked to see the billeting officer, who then arranged the transfer. At the age of eleven this was a hard lesson to learn in standing on my own feet!

I settled a lot better there and that was mainly because of the children of the family. There were three children still at school and their constant company filled each day. They were a poor family because the father did not work, owing to ill health, but they welcomed me into their home. I looked forward to letters from home, but everyone worked long hours on war work and my father was also in the Civil Defence and on duty during air raids. In spite of that, they all kept in touch as often as possible.

I remember only one visit from my mother and John and that was after a very long time, because she had been encouraged by my father to take John and two of my sisters to live with her family in Dundee during the blitz on London. My mother and John were living with our grandfather and the two sisters were with an aunt. Another sister had gone to work in a convalescent home in Cromer. This meant that our whole family was split in six different places during that period of the war.

Douglas left school at 14 years of age and he worked in a shop in Cheadle. He was anxious to return home to start an apprenticeship and in time our parents agreed to this. I begged to return home with him and so we returned home to Dagenham in 1942, after three years away from home.

I did not recognise my two sisters who met us at the local station after our journey from Cheadle. They still recall how I looked at them as if they were strangers, which I thought they were, asking Douglas for directions somewhere! I found it difficult to accept the changes that had taken place in the family, having grown apart from Douglas and finding my sisters far more grown up. Had we not been separated these changes would have occurred unnoticed. So many things seemed different and there were so many things that were forgotten.

As well as the changes in appearance there were the forgotten voices. In those days communication was by letter only as there were very few working class people with a telephone, if any. Modern young people with their mobile phones would probably find this unbelievable, but that was the situation for all of us then and it was a considerable part of the pain of separation. My mother had a strong Scottish accent and this was wiped out of my life, along with the rest of the family.

On my return home I used to watch my young brother and his closeness to our mother, who he had been with throughout the war. It was not a jealous feeling, just an empty observation. Over time we all became close again.

The air raids were a shock. Most nights were spent in the Anderson shelter in the garden, where my father had fitted some single bunks, making it as comfortable as possible. The step down into the shelter was a large wooden chest, which contained tinned food, drinking water and medical items. There were some very loud anti aircraft guns in the nearby park, but the most frightening of all were the guns that were based in a park in Barking, some miles away.

After my return home I had one more year to complete my schooling and during this time I joined the Dagenham Girl Pipers, which was a wonderful opportunity for me. It also helped me over the settling down period, which I was finding so difficult. Some of the girls that joined the band at that time had also been evacuated. We formed a close friendship that has lasted all these years with frequent meetings.

In the last year of the war, at the age of sixteen, I was working full time with the band. We were in an ENSA show called ‘Wise and Otherwise’, entertaining the troops and touring army and air force camps in England, Scotland and Wales. My brother Douglas had given up his apprenticeship and joined the Merchant Navy. His great love of the sea had developed from our time at Overstrand.

During my work in the band we had a break from ENSA to appear in pantomime at Birmingham during the winter of 1944/5. While there we were asked to play one Sunday at a local hospital where Canadian servicemen were recovering. We played our pipes and drums and did highland dancing in several wards. It must have been very noisy for most of them and when we finished, the Matron asked us to sit and talk to the soldiers. It was a bit daunting, as there were many different injuries, so we went in pairs to talk to the soldiers. They did not seem much older than us and we have always remembered how they only wanted to talk about the latest films and records. Not a word of where they had been and what had happened to them.

ENSA parties were always billeted in ENSA hostels, which were often very large country houses in huge grounds, staffed by NAAFI personnel. We were taken to a different camp each evening by coach. Sometimes we would appear every night at the same theatre in a large camp such as Catterick camp, where we happened to be staying when the war ended. There, the ENSA hostel was actually in the camp and because of this, I remember when we talked to soldiers during the day on VE Day, all they wanted was to get out, get home and get on with their lives.

Perhaps a lot of the soldiers celebrated in town because the VE celebrations at Catterick camp were quiet. There was a formal announcement of the Victory in Europe after the show at the Catterick camp theatre that night. We were invited to a special celebration dinner at the camp during the next few days, which was attended by many officers and top brass army officials, and we were included in a victory parade that week.

VJ night in Southsea was much different. After our show that night at a camp, our company manager organised some cabaret appearances in hotels along the Southsea seafront. Every hotel was packed with revellers and chaotic. I think a lot of the American servicemen were billeted in the hotels and some of them were behaving wildly, throwing wooden chairs out of windows and setting fire to them in the street. Fortunately these were only small fires and nothing serious occurred. They were very noisy and happy to be going home.

I was sixteen years old and the war I thought would never end was OVER.

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