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This story has been written to the ´óÏó´«Ã½ People's War site by CSV Storygatherer Coralie, on behalf of Aileen Friend. The story has been added to the site with her permission, and Aileen fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

Harry Brooking and his wife Hannah (nee Ley) lived in the main street in Chillington, next to the grocer’s shop. Members of the Brooking family had lived there for 3 or 4 generations. Originally, the house had a thatched roof, making it warm in the winter and cool in summer, but it was replaced by tiles before the war. On the opposite side of the road they had an orchard, where they kept quite a few chickens. This is now a close of attractive bungalows built by his son Tom. The children, Tom and Aileen were born and brought up there.

Unfortunately, Harry was troubled with rheumatism and arthritis and had to give up the business and so handed it to his son Tom by the beginning of the war, although he went along to give a hand if he could. As she grew up, Aileen took over the book-keeping for quite a number of years.

At the beginning of the war, Aileen had joined the Chillington First Aid team and used to go to the Cottage Hospital to help with the nursing. She enjoyed it, and made up her mind that when the time came to be called up she would go into nursing, but as it turned out she did her nursing at home.

Early on in the war, Kingsbridge suffered some bombing, and Tom and other builders were repairing the damage when a single German fighter plane made a ‘tip and run raid’, machine gunning along the lower part of the town, roughly along Ebrington Street. At the time, Tom was on a roof and said that he could quite clearly see the pilot in the plane. Aileen too was in Kingsbridge, waiting at the bus stop just outside what is Forbuoys Newsagents. Everyone fell flat on their faces hoping to escape being hurt. A horse-drawn dray, which was loading up with coal up at the Station yard, came careering down the hill as the horse bolted in fright. Being on the route to Plymouth this whole area was liable to get some attention from the German Luftwaffe from time to time. However, since this area was considered a safe place at the beginning of the war, some relations who lived at Bristol sent their youngest child, Sybil, who was 5 years old at the time, down to stay with them. She quickly settled in and made friends with other evacuees at Stokenham School. Of course, they all had to walk from Chillington but there were always others to go with, which was nice for her. She stayed with them for two years.

Aileen, like everyone, went along to Stokenham Church to hear the announcement that the area was to be evacuated. Tom moved the business out to East Prawle, and he and Winnie lived in a chalet there during that time. He was able to use a building at Woodcombe Farm for all his building materials, which meant that he could carry on working in the neighbourhood. Harry, Hannah and Aileen made arrangements to go down to relatives in Cornwall. Hannah’s sister had a farmhouse where there were two spare bedrooms available, a spare sitting room, and they shared the kitchen. They had a smallholding and kept cows, pigs and poultry.

They took their furniture with them, as well as some of Tom’s which couldn’t be fitted into the chalet. Some things they took into the house, and the rest was stored in the barn. They were taken down to Cornwall by car, and the furniture came by lorry — nothing was damaged. They took a few chickens and their Russian Blue grey cat. He had come from the farm, but he didn’t mix with his half brothers and sisters when he returned. All the time he was there he chose to come and go through the front door while the rest of them used the back door!

The farm was in an isolated spot between Delabole and Camelford. They had no electricity — Aileen remembers that they couldn’t use their mains electric wireless, which they missed. They had to walk two miles to the nearest shops, but one or two delivery vans did call at the farm — she wore out a lot of shoe leather during the time they were there! By this time, Harry was really crippled with arthritis, and while they were there Hannah had a stroke and was bedridden, so Aileen had them both to look after. Everyone around was most kind and sympathetic, and thought how dreadful it was to have been moved out of their home in such a way. They quickly became friendly with their nearest neighbours at the Rectory, which was full of evacuee children and some of the mothers, and the folk who lived in the cottages at the end of the lane.

Down there in Cornwall, they really didn’t know that the war was on. Yes, they were rationed, but Aileen said that the farmers, for instance, didn’t take their meat ration, which meant that the butcher could be more generous with his other customers. They had a standing order for a rabbit once a fortnight, and besides that, there was plenty of fish which Harry was particularly fond of. Butter was made on the farm and of course there were eggs and chickens; they really did very well. To Hannah’s consternation, they didn’t even bother about blackout — no-one came up to the farm to check anyway. Hannah insisted that that really wasn’t the point, but it fell on deaf ears! On reflection, they thought that the Germans weren’t interested in Cornwall — there was a small Air Force base not far away, but that was all, and they would have had to be very far off course to come that way at all.

It was so peaceful down there, no bombers coming over to bomb Plymouth, no gunfire. Aileen became involved in the church, and got to know the evacuees at the Rectory. They used to come up to the farm where they let them have some home-made butter and a few eggs.

In October, 1944, they were brought back again by car, and were able to move in without any problems. Their doctor in Cornwall was most helpful, and arranged for Hannah to be cared for in the hospital for three weeks while Harry and Aileen settled in — nothing had been broken in the long journeys. When they looked around, the only things that were missing were some curios that Harry had collected over the years. He used to go to sales and buy the odd thing that took his fancy, like the set of antlers they had in the hall. These had been put in the wash house at the back, but they were gone.

To all the folk who were evacuated, the Government gave some things to help them set up again in their homes when they returned. There was a large doormat, a bucket, an enamel bowl, a saucepan, cups, saucers and plates and a large brown teapot. Then from the Canadian Red Cross, each household had lovely patchwork quilts, one for each person (a traditional item in Canada, stemming from the time when they braved the Atlantic and first settled on the shores of the new land to be known as Canada). These were much appreciated, as much for their immediate use as for the thoughts and concern that people across the water had for this little corner of England.

It was 10 years later that a memorial was erected, by the American Forces, on the spot where the Royal Sands Hotel had stood. It commemorates the sacrifice made by the people of South Hams to allow the soldiers from the U.S.A. to rehearse their part in the D-Day landings in June 1944. All the people who had given up their homes and livelihoods, for the best part of a year, were invited to attend the ceremony of the unveiling of the inscription on the obelisk which stands half-way along the ‘line’ — the straight road from Torcross to Strete Gate which separates the English Channel from the expanse of fresh water known as Slapton Ley. Aileen was fortunate enough to get the signature of General M. Gruenther on her invitation.

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