大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Katherine Wood of the 鈥楢ction Desk 鈥� Sheffield鈥� Team on behalf of Raymond McElvenney, and has been added to the site with the author鈥檚 permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

At the outbreak of the Second World War, I was living with my parents, sister and baby brother in the Notting Hill area of London. Because of the possibility of danger to life and property, the authorities decided to evacuate school children from central London to the outskirts. My sister and I were told to attend our school, complete with gas mask and a few personal belongings, where we were given a brown luggage label with our name on. We were then duly put on board a train and eventually arrived in a place called Whaysbury, which was near to Windsor. We were all taken to a wooden building, which I now assume was either a local village hall on a church building. We were then allocated to local families to be boarded. My sister was placed with a Salvation Army family and I was taken to a bungalow in which lived a couple of, to me, elderly people. The man of the house was a gardener who worked for a doctor. There are a number of things arising from my evacuation which stick in my memory and are as real to me as they were then. The first one was when I was taken next door to see the biggest Christmas tree that I had ever seen. It was laden with all sorts of wonderful decorations and a large star at the top. There were no electrical tree lights on it, but a great many candles, all of different colours, and as a treat, they lit all the candles for me to see. For me it was the biggest tree imaginable and was quite magical. As I was leaving I was given a large tin box of toffees. I had never had anything like this before.
I was walking to school one day when I saw the gardener walking towards me pushing his bike and he called to me, 鈥淚 have something to show you hold out your hands鈥�. He then placed in my hands the biggest apple imaginable. To my mind it was as big as a pumpkin. It was of course a large Bramley apple.
The other incident was when we heard that a land mine had been dropped nearby. A friend of mine and I decided to play truant from school and go to see where the bomb had fallen. It had fallen in a local field, and when we got there, there were still a number of dead cows. But this didn鈥檛 bother us; we spent our time looking for shrapnel.
One other thing that sticks in my mind was that some of the houses did not have running water. They had to get their water from a pump in the street. There was always a jam jar of water left there by the pump for people to 鈥榩rime the pump鈥�, before they drew what water that they required.
One other thing I remember quite clearly was being taken to see a 鈥榥ew鈥� film in glorious colour, 鈥楶inocchio鈥� which had first been released.
My parents were musical artists and found themselves without work, as all the London theatres were closed 鈥榝or the duration鈥�. They took the decision to leave London and move north to 鈥榳ork鈥� the pubs and clubs circuit. They eventually came to live in the Broomhall area of Sheffield in a large Victorian house, and having got here started to make moves to get us returned from evacuation, but were meeting with difficulty. They approached a number of different bodies for assistance in getting us home, including our own Catholic church, but were turned down. One day my mother was walking up Pinstone Street and noticed the Salvation Army citadel on Cross Burgess Street. She went in and spoke to the 鈥榦fficer鈥� in charge and told him of the difficulty she was having in getting us home. To cut a rather long story short, we were taken from our place of evacuation, escorted across London and put on a train to Sheffield. I was met by my mother and taken home by tramcar. I remember this incident and, although being a Catholic, the Salvation Army has always been rather special to me.
One other thing that remains quite clear to me was the night of the Sheffield 鈥楤litz鈥�. I have never been able to fathom out why this particular incident happened the way that it did, but on the night of the Blitz, I spent the night on the cellar steps underneath the front stairway. This was, I assume, to give us an element of protection should a bomb fall on our house. There was a little bit of excitement when a bomb dropped on two houses at the top of Havelock Square (now Holberry Gardens) and demolished them. I remember whilst on the stairs that an incendary bomb fell on to our cellar grate, and seemed to fiz for quite a long time.
My father was, during the war years, employed as an inspector for the Admiralty in Hadfield's Steel Works, who were employed as contractors producing steel for use in Armaments.
My final recollection was relating to the house where we lived. The houses in Havelock Square were largely big Victorian terrace houses with four large bedrooms and a palatial bathroom. Because we were not able to use all our rooms ourselves, our parents were required by the authorities to take in other 鈥榝amilies鈥� and share the house with them. We had a family called Hacket staying with us. Mother, father and a son, Arthur. Arthur was a coal man and was eventually called up and went into the Army. One day my mother was in the kitchen, and looking along the corridor to the hall, noticed a figure of a man going upstairs and said to herself 鈥淥h! Arthur must be home on leave鈥�. Later on that day, Mr and Mrs Hacket got a telegram to say that their son Arthur had been killed in action. My mother was the most level headed person, not given to fanciful things. But was insistent that she did see Arthur going up the stairs.

Pr-BR

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