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Getting Evacuated , By Geoff Pattinson of Teesside.
I’m not sure of the year , ones childhood memories are not always in chronological order , but i’m sure it was in the late summer of 1942, I was 12yrs old at the time. The party of Italian prisoners of war was about 10 or 12 at the time, working on the farm, it was the farm I was evacuated to, they were cleaning and digging out ditches. They were a friendly group usually singing, mostly operatic arias, one prisoner in particular, called Monty I’m not sure if it was his real name or not or he had some connection with General Montgomery, but he had a rich tenor voice which seemed to ring out all over the countryside. I only knew him for about 2 weeks, but developed a great friendship with him. I was a schoolboy and he was a prisoner of war, and for all I knew he could have been fighting with one of my uncles in the eighth army. The war itself was hardly mentioned, the only thing said was that he was captured in North Africa, very early in the campaign. His abiding passions were Art and Opera , he was a professional singer classically trained and had sung in La Scala Milan, it was the highlight of his life, his other talent was Art, he was very deft with his pencil and his sketches of people were very good, but he was very short of materials and could not fulfil his artistic talent. I’d done a lot of sketches as a child but drawing pads were in short supply, only a limited amount being given to schools. At the time my teacher at the small village school, one classroom for everyone age ranging from 5 to 14, was Mrs Mortimer a lovely person whom I really liked and admired. I explained Monty’s predicament to her and she gave me two pencils and a sketchbook from the stationary cupboard saying ‘ This is between us’, I have kept this secret until now, Monty was delighted with the gift and the first sketch he made was of me which I kept in a book for many years, but unfortunately it has long since disappeared. We had rationing at the time, not that it had any adverse effect on me, living on a farm but I remember the Italian prisoners who were extremely well fed and many a time I shared a meal with them by their campfire drinking coffee which was extremely sweet and toast with jam, as much as I could eat. It was hard for me to contemplate that these people who were so cheerful and so well treated and then think of all the horrors that our people went through. As a man I cannot seem to remember any rain in those days, arriving home after school on my bike to see my friends the Italian prisoners particularly my friend Monty and share their toast and coffee. Over sixty years have now passed since that summer with the prisoners I was just an English schoolboy, they were Italian prisoners, we were told they were the enemy, but for me for just two magical weeks they were my friends and I always treasure that memory to this day. I was just an English schoolboy, they were prisoners of war, we were told they were the enemy, but for me , for two magical weeks they were my friends and I treasure that memory to this day.

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