大象传媒

I have decided to put my wartime memories into the form of a poem:-

Can you imagine the outcry if a minister said today,
"We'll send all your children to anyone willing and give them ten shillings a week pay"
Thats what happened in '39 when there was a mass exodus of children sent far and wide by boat and train and bus.
No vetting was done, as it would be now, on where we were to go
Stand in line! Do as your told! You could't turn round and say no.
It was cruel to send children away with no words of explanation
Like Paddington Bear, pin your name on your coat and dump you at the station.
I was 6 years old when i boarded the bus - bewildered and rather scared
With a gas mask and a bundle of clothes to go to God knows where.
I had three older sisters with me who proved themselves real gems,
They held my hand - looked after me, but who looked after them.
When we arrived we were split up, and sent to difefrent places.
I went with a sister to a farm, and unfamiliar faces.
We walked a mile and a half to school each day, in wind, rain, snow and sleet.
In the winter I wore clogs and had permanently cold feet.
We stayed two years. We were'nt ill treated but had no warmth of affection there.
My sister was worked hard when we got home from school - who was there to care?
A few had good homes and were happy there. Some of them even stayed.
But I hate to think what happened to others, the system had betrayed.
Of course most were ordinary decent people, who did the best they could
But its hard to find love to spare for someone else's brood.
We returned home in '42 and settled back straight away and much preferred the sirens and bombs to the safety of yesterday.
We felt more secure huddled together with people we knew and loved
And didnt much care the Germans were dropping bombs on us from above.
In fact, if there was a raid, and it happened through the night,
There was no school the next day. Much to our delight.
Food shortages, rationing, hunger - people took it in their stride
And as the tide of war turned they walked around in pride.
When my Grandchildren ask about the war I dont talk of the early years
Of all the poor children sent far away, with no one to wipe their tears.
I can only pray the time will come when the whole world is at peace
And people realise the futility of war, and all hostilities cease.
What a great legacy for our children to grow up with love and trust
But if ever it happens it won't affect me - by then I'll be dust.

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