大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by the Dunstable At War Team with the author's permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

I was aged five and my sister aged seven at the start of the war. We were first sent to Dunstable after having been in two earlier billets in nearby villages, in the second of which we were inadequately fed and clothed; our mother insisted on having us moved because we had become so thin; I think that the family had agreed to take evacuees in order to get more rations which they kept for themselves. My sister and I were so hungry that we ate leaves and berries from the hedgerows and also acorns. We also stole and ate the family's store of pears so we were taken to a 'short-stay' hostel in Dunstable High Street; it was a rather elegant building, with bay windows and stone steps leading up to the front door. There was a basement area and the railings round the building had not been removed for the war effort as had most others.

I visited Dunstable in the seventies; a sort of trip of curiosity, and the house was then an antique shop. It was on the same side as what was in our time, the public library and opposite what I remember as the police station. Near to the police station was Periwinkle Lane, a name which I thought quite enchanting. Further down from Periwinkle Lane was the cattle market. I adored the cattle market! I would stand for ages watching the animals being led up rickety wooden ramps and into carts. Does that ring any bells? The hostel was a well-run place and there were six girls there, including us with a matron and nurse in charge. I'd have been quite happy to stay there for the duration. But as I say, it was a short-stay place until something more permanent could be found.

So after a while we were transferred to a small house immediately opposite the hostel where we lived for about six months (I would estimate) with a man and his French wife. They spoke to each other in French and hardly ever conversed with us; they had no children. It was a small house, its front door directly on to the pavement outside and with stairs from the main living room hidden behind a latched door. Mr and Mrs A kept rabbits and hens in the backyard to provide extra food and eggs. They looked after us very well; we were content there.

When we left the As, we were sent to a large extended family at the other end of the town and there we remained until the war ended; we were very, very, unhappy for the four years or so we were at this last billet. By the time we went back to London I had spent more than half my life away from my mother and this had a damaging effect on our relationship, which soon reverted to normal, happily. I loved my mother dearly; she was wonderful. But whilst we were away from home we were always in fear of her getting killed and, consequently, having to remain with the family in Dunstable. Many of our evacuee acquaintances ran away back to London, but they were always caught at King's Cross and returned. My sister and I hadn't the heart to do the same, as we were aware of the anxiety it would cause our mother.

As far as schooling is concerned, we were first of all sent to Burr Street School, then I was sent to Northfields or Highfields (can't remember which name it was). By the time war ended I was eleven and started in secondary education when I returned to London. My sister though, at age eleven was transferred to the evacuated Acland School. We returned to London at different times; I went after VE Day and she returned after VJ Day. It was all to do with being sent home with our schools.

What else? Naturally Whipsnade Zoo held a great fascination and the Downs were very attractive. There was a German POW camp near the Downs and in the summer we would go, with friends, to talk to the prisoners there who were behind wire netting; they seemed to welcome our visits when they could practice their English. We saw a lot of soldiers one way and another; convoys of British soldiers would sometimes pass through the town and shout to us to ask where they were (no roadsigns,of course).

When the Americans strutted into town the kids would run after them calling 'Got any gum, chum' in the hope of being handed a stick of Spearmint. The Americans presented food parcels to the households and there were even Polish soldiers in the town, I recall.

One of the things I remember about that period was how light the summer evenings were when we had double summertime. A strange thing to impress! But daylight at 10.00 pm struck me as something wonderful. There was a hotel near to where we lived called The Saracen's Head, the name inscribed in polished brass. I wonder if it's still there? The cinema was called, I think, The Union and we used to go there fairly regularly. I could never quite understand the war news (Pathe Pictorial), but there was some sort of news agency down past the post office and I used to look at the war photographs in the window on my way back from school; it was there that one day I saw with horror photographs of the release of the concentration camp victims in Germany. As far as the post office is concerned, I shall always remember the rather elegant bronze stamp machines outside鈥攁nother strange thing to impress a child.

At the end of the road where we lived was a small dairy where we were sometimes sent to buy milk. I found it was fascinating to watch how the churns and measures were thoroughly cleansed with hot water before the milk was transferred to the jug, which had been sent to be filled. Shopping was so different then; there was a grocer's called International Stores (or it may have been World Stores) in the High Street near the Town Hall. It was fascinating to see the butter and cheese measured out and wrapped efficiently and quickly by the assistant and tea leaves weighed and parceled neatly into bags.

My sister and I were able to play the piano, so we were sometimes called on to play in concerts at the Town Hall.

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