大象传媒

Philip Casey a London Evacuee to Kempston

The day war broke out I was three living in West London. Our back yard was a small-concreted area backed by a 12 ft high wall over which was the main railway line into Paddington station. The Germans were targeting the railway line and we had land mines and incendiary bombs dropping all around us.

My father did fire watching each night in Central London and had saw where the bombs were being aimed. He decided it would be better if we moved out of the area so we went to West Hampstead and whilst we missed some of the bombs we often looked out of the upper floor window to see the night skies glowing red from the fires over central London.

Then the doodlebugs started, flying bombs with their dreaded thud, thud, thud until they ran out of fuel and then plummeted to ground, indiscriminately. Worse still were the rockets. They gave no warning until the sound and destruction from the explosion. One hit the block a short way from our home and my bedroom window was blown in 6 inches and shattered glass on the bottom of my bed. A close call so Mum decided it would be better if I were evacuated.

I was eight years old in 1944 when, carrying a small case with a few belongings, my children鈥檚 gas mask and suitably labelled up, I climbed onto the coach not knowing were we were going but with a pre-addressed postcard in my pocket to send home when we arrived at our destination. Waving goodbye to our parents from Kingsgate Road Infants School we were bound for St Pancras main line station with hundreds of other children to board a train for Bedford, and then on to Kempston.

Bewildered and huddled together in a church hall our names were read out so we could be taken by car to those nominated to take in evacuees. My friend John who was 10 years and I were taken to King Street, Kempston. We shared a bedroom but it wasn鈥檛 a happy experience. We lay in bed that evening counting the bugs on the walls writing our postcards home and telling of the dirty conditions we were in.

John鈥檚 two sisters arrived in a couple of days and contacted the authorities when they saw the conditions. It was pouring with rain that day so we stood in the doorway of a nearby house when the door opened and we were invited in. When they heard the plight of these two little boys they offered to have us. They had been exempt because the two spinster sisters had an invalid brother but like true Christians they made us very welcome.

I joined Lizzy in the choir at the local Methodist Church, not because of my vocal prowess but because Gert was at home cooking the dinner. I remember the morning I started at the local school when upon being taken into the classroom the teacher said 鈥渘ot any more, that makes 48鈥� and we had to sit three to a bench on a desk made for two. I was also surprised to see numerous Italian prisoners of war around the town wearing the dark brown uniform with a bright diamond patch on their backs. One experience I also cherished was a day out round the countryside with one of the brick lorry drivers organised a lady at the church always referred to as 鈥渢he Hillgrounds Lady鈥�.

VE day arrived and I remember going into Bedford for the celebrations to see the lights and the fireworks near the suspension bridge and of course the prospect of going home.

I was very happy with the Bellamy sisters Gert and Lizzy and after the war I returned for many holidays keeping in touch exchanging Christmas cards until they eventually passed away many years later.

Philip Casey 11th July 2005

ph.casey@btinternet.com

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