大象传媒

Immediately prior to the outbreak of was, the Senior W.V.S. officer in Aylesbury was the Countess of Courtown, who was also the District Commissioner for Girl Guides. This meant that she could not only call upon her WVS members, but also had a large number of girls who were dedicated to give service to the community.

School holidays were coming to an end, and we were all looking for something new to do. We had distributed leaflets about gas masks, blackout regulations and any other new instructions, which whilst being helpful were less than interesting. Now we had the opportunity to assist with getting the evacuees from the station to their various destinations.

On Saturday 2nd September 1939, I was at the station, with several of my friends, all duly dressed in our Guide uniforms, awaiting trains from London. As they arrived and the children streamed out into the forecourt, with their cases, parcels and packages of their belongings, we were keen to help them. The first train was full of girls of the eleven to fourteen age groups, from the Mile End Central school, so we took their luggage and led them up the town into the Toown Hall, where they were checked in, then distributed to their hostesses. We retuned to the station for the next trainload, which was all younger children from the sir John Cass school, most of whom lived in Stepney. In this party were the regular school age children, but some were accompanied by younger siblings. It was my 'priviledge' to become attached to three boys - two friends of about six years, and a younger brother of one of them, who was three or four years of age. This tiny tot's first remark was "Where are all the yokels then?" Obviously he had been led to imagine that we all wore smocks and had straw in our hair. It was agreat relief when I was able to leave them in good hands at the Town Hall.

We had been on duty for some hours, so we then went off for our lunch.

Just imagine my amazement, when a knock came at our back door, and on opening it I saw this little fallow standing there. He was quite unabashed, and said " Miss Figg (Mrs Figg, his hostess, who lived quite near us) says that you have a little boy that I could play with. My younger brother was three at the time, so we encouraged him to take this little lad under his wing. They became close friends, which lasted for some time after Johnny went home, at the end of the war, when they were both nine.

On the following day, Sunday 3rd September, I was with a different group, which included my sister, and we were to be at the Odeon cinema to receive more evacuees. It was possible to use the cinema with its two large foyers, because in those days they did not open on Sundays, and the facilities were ideal for large groups. We were awaiting the first arrivals when the manager sent us to get an ice cream each from the shop next door, and then sit in the front row of the balcony. He then put on a radio, over the loudspeakers, and we heard Mr Chamberlain's famous speach declaring war. It was an incredible feeling, which has stayed with me through all those years. In the first place to be in a cinema on a Sunday, to sit in the front row of the balcony licking a cornet, and to hear war being declared, was so out of the ordinary way of life.

Whenever I see a film of the evacuees arriving at their destinations, these memories flood back. There are many tales of evacuees being unhappy and uncared for, but having seen it with my own eyes, many more were welcomed into good homes to be sheltered from the air raids to come. All local families in this area squeezed up and made room either for children or war workers, whose factories were also evacuated.

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