- Contributed by听
- Thanet_Libraries
- People in story:听
- Mrs Kathleen Stroud
- Location of story:听
- Margate to Rugeley, Staffs
- Background to story:听
- Civilian
- Article ID:听
- A2700451
- Contributed on:听
- 04 June 2004
This story was submitted to the People's War site by Helen Kemp of the County Heritage Team on behalf of Kathleen Stroud and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
Mrs K R Stroud
2nd June 1940
Evacuation
For weeks we had practiced what we had to do if the siren was heard while we were in class. The older pupils were upstairs & had to come down quickly & take a younger child from the group at the foot of the stairs & hurry them into the air raid shelter until the all clear. We often had a singsong to keep up the spirits of the children, some of who were rather nervous.
The fear of invasion had increased and the government needed to remove as many people as possible from our area; we were too close for comfort in our East Kent seaside towns.
The school children & their parents were assembled in the school playground鈥he children with there knapsacks on their backs, containing a change of clothes & not much else, a packed lunch in a bag in our hands. As soon as they started to board the buses, which would take us to the station, there was a ripple of excitement. It was at that moment I saw my dear mother, a little apart watching us go, holding back the tears & trying not to show her worry.
It had been impressed on me to 鈥渒eep with the boys鈥 (my two younger brothers) I was eleven years old & the boys six & nine respectively. I was the big sister.
After a number of hours we finally were told we were 鈥渘early there鈥. It was something of a relief to arrive outside the local school in the village of Colton Nr Rugeley in Staffordshire. The local people offered refreshments, which we were much in need of by then, after which they got down to the business of placing all of us in homes. I quickly realised that everyone seemed willing only to take two little girls. This was not very encouraging, one couple, who were not present, had asked a neighbour to take their two little evacuees in until they returned, somewhat later, from their usual Saturday night out鈥
We were duly collected by a very displeased & grim woman, who definitely did not intend to look after three children and thereafter put pressure on the local billeting officer to move us on as soon as possible, which turned out to be early August. Our bags were packed and we then had to trudge three miles into the village. We received a warmer welcome. Unfortunately our new home was one of a pair of houses recently erected & actually possessed a bathroom. However, we soon discovered using the bathroom was not an option! We had been brought up to believe that 鈥渃leanliness is next to godliness鈥. I found if I didn鈥檛 keep the younger boy clean it would not be done. The lady had never had access to a bath & seemed rather afraid of all that water!
Speaking of water, we discovered that very few local children had seen the sea and we were quite unable to explain it to them! The younger evacuees were attending the village school but, as we out numbered the local children, we older ones were taken by bus to an under-populated school in another village. I think going to this school was the only bit I found bearable during the two and half years that I was an evacuee. My parents visited as often as they could, but oh how we missed them when they had to go home
Our older sister had been taken back home, despite the bombs as she was in a very poor state of health due to inadequate & poor feeding.
During the long summer holidays, both the local children & the evacuees were encouraged to go potato picking. This was very enjoyable. We earned some pocket money and we chose to ignore the terrible back ache & stiffness which came with the unaccustomed bending, for a little while we had money in our pockets.
Our foster parents had a daughter a little older than me, & when my mother sent me new clothes, the daughter kicked up such a fuss that her mother opened my parcels & gave her first choice of my new things.
Looking after the ration books soon became my job as the foster mother could barely read or write & did not understand what had to be done, either in the use of the coupons or how to arrange for new ration books!
Then alleluia! The fear of invasion was over & children could return home, though it was still discouraged, and my mother decided it would be good for me to come home for a while & near the end 1942, I was put on a train for London by the village Postmistress & met in London by my adult sister with whom I spent a few days before being put on a train for Westgate 鈥 home.
East Kent was still a restricted area and my father, a wartime policeman, was at the station to collect me and make sure I was not 鈥渟ent back鈥.
I walked in through the front door and there was my mum. I burst into tears of real joy. My mother decided I should stay home & she promptly began to teach me to speak properly鈥.e. to iron out the traces of my Midlands accent. By this time I was fourteen & I went looking for a job & found work in a private library, where I stayed for some time as I thoroughly enjoyed all those books!
Here I am 鈥 all these years gone by but still some strong memories remain. I have been married & widowed had my children & now have grandchildren 鈥 lucky me.
After many years, my dear mother, now gone, still felt guilty for not refusing to let us go away as we were so young, but I used to remind her she did what was right at the time. It was all part of our life鈥檚 pattern.
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