大象传媒

It was 1st September 1939 I found our little family waiting in Chestnut Grove outside the school, as the playground was full of Mums, Dads and children.
Chestnut Grove itself was pretty full as well. All of the teachers were there and several people who we were told came from the Town Hall. They were drafted into help with the Evacuation. At first all of us were confused. Everyone was talking at once. Whistles were blown and everyone quietened down. We were given instructions. Every child was issued with a little luggage label. It had their name and address etc written on it. The labels were either tied to a lapel or pinned to a coat. We were also issued with a brown paper carrier bag, with string handles, containing what we were told were our rations. 鈥楻ations鈥� was a new word to us, but one that we were to hear many times in the years to come. More whistles were blown and the unaccompanied were lined up in twos, ready for the short walk to Marsh Lane and Strand Road, Railway Station. Parents who were travelling with their children were instructed to follow on behind. Some of the Mums, who were seeing their children off, were crying.
The pavement opposite to the one we were walking on was crowded with men and women. Someone said, 鈥淚t looks like the whole of Bootle has turned out to see us off.鈥� Some people shouted words of encouragement like 'good luck' and 'god bless'.
The walk to the station was brief and soon we were climbing the steep ramp to the elevated platform. I remember that I felt very excited and no doubt my brothers felt the same. Though none of us were saying very much. Our only previous journeys had been an occasional Penny Tram ride to visit some Aunt or other. Once Jack, Jim and myself had the promise of a day trip to New Brighton on the Ferry. A lady who lodged with Granny had promised to take us. I still remember her name 鈥楳aggie Cox鈥�. Two days before the great trip the poor lady fell down Granny鈥檚 stairs and apparently broke her neck. Most of the details were kept from us. We were just told that she died and had gone to Heaven. I don鈥檛 think heaven impressed us very much. We were too busy bewailing our lost trip to New Brighton. A few days later we were standing outside Granny鈥檚 house looking at the glass hearse, the coaches and the big black horses. I cannot say why, but all three of us suddenly took fright. I don鈥檛 whether it was the smell of the horses or the blackness of everything, but all three of us took to our heels and ran. Mother found us, about an hour later, hiding in a nearby entry. We did not know what we were scared of.
Now here we were, 1st September 1939, standing on the platform waiting for the electric train, which we were eventually told was going to take us to Southport about 16 miles from Bootle. We were warned to keep well away from the edge of the platform. The train eventually rolled up. We were hustled abroad amidst much shouting and yelling. When we were aboard the Porter shouted, 鈥淢ind the doors!鈥� He then blew his whistle. The doors closed with a hiss. There was a jerk, which shook us in our seats and we were off into the unknown. It was unknown to us anyway. The journey to Southport was not a long one. The train seemed to whizz along. About ten minutes into the journey we told Mother that we were starving. The carrier bags were opened and we tucked in. I remember there were bars of Cadbury鈥檚 Bournville Chocolate. It was dark stuff that we had never tasted before. There were pieces of fruitcake. The carriers contained other goodies, but what they were I cannot remember.
A few miles out of Bootle the train began to travel through green fields. We were now viewing the real countryside. We started shouting as we spotted sheep and cows.
Eventually we where there Chapel Street Station, Southport. Within minutes there were hundreds of Bootle schoolchildren spilling out on to the wide platform. Teachers again blew their whistles for attention and began busily, once more, marshalling their charges. They soon obtained order. With Mother telling us to stay close to her, we headed for the station exit. Where a fleet of hired buses were waiting to take us on the next stage of our expedition.
鈥楾his story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author, George Flannery, and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.鈥�

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