大象传媒

I was 8 years old when the war began.

Before the war we were just an ordinary family living in rented accommodation. I have a younger brother who was just 3 at the time. We always had enough to eat and enough clothes to wear, though nothing like the youngsters have today.

We had very little money to spare, so food was plain and sweets were limited.
There was no television and presents were only given at Christmas, or on our birthdays.

Children were far more ignorant of what was happening in the world than they are today, and the first I knew of a threatened war was when we had to go and get our gas masks.
These came in a cardboard box with a cord to go over our shoulder, and we had to practice wearing them for a short time in school and at home.
My brother was only 3 and had a special gas mask called a 'Mickey Mouse mask', the name was supposed to make it more acceptable to a young child.
He was petrified of it and my mother was very afraid of what might happen if there ever was a gas attack. He was also terrified of the Barrage Balloons appearing in the sky, and would scream if he saw one.

Soon there was talk of the school children being evacuated.
I wanted to know what this meant.
My parents had decided that I should go, but played down the implications and said it would be like a nice holiday in the country and that I would soon be home.
This reassured me and I was quite looking forward to it.

One morning at the end of August 1939 I was taken to the local railway station with my small attach茅 case (quite big enough to hold my few clothes) and a luggage label fastened to my coat with my name and the name of my school on it.
Most of my classmates were there and some of the teachers.
We all said 'Goodbye' to our parents, with not a few tears on many faces, and the train pulled out.

Although we were not taken far, by today's standards, the journey from London to Baldock seemed a very long way to most of us, who had not been on a train before.
When we arrived at the small country town we were taken to the local cinema. We didn't see a film as we had hoped might happen, but were lined up and chosen by the local people, those who had spare rooms in their houses were not given a lot of choice about whether or not to take us in.
I was taken, together with one of the teachers, to a house in the main road.
I had my own room and the people (who were Canadians) were very pleasant.
On the following Sunday we were all sitting in the kitchen listening to the wireless (as we called the radio) and the Prime Minister, Mr Chamberlain announced that we were at war.
This meant very little to me, but to the Canadian couple it meant that they had to go back to Canada.
In a very short time I was moved to another home, without the teacher.
I never saw her again.

This time I was billeted in a much larger house with large gardens, both at the front and the back.
There was a field in the front of the house and another at the back.
This time the family were Danish and there were 6 children, the youngest of whom was 14.
Only 4 of them lived at home, but with the parents and myself, as you can imagine, it was a very large house.
I had my own small bedroom and began to settle down.
The parents were kind to me, but I got teased by the other youngsters, especially the 14 year old, who probably saw it as his chance to get at a younger child.
As I had been the eldest of a small family, this taught me a valuable lesson in self-preservation!

After a few days we began to go to the local school, we were not integrated with the local children, but had our own teachers from London. Life was very different for me from my life in London.
For one thing I learnt to love the countryside and the open spaces, and of course food was more plentiful.
Mrs Hoeg was a wonderful cook, able to make a tasty meal out of all kinds of things.
The lawn was converted to a vegetable garden and the boys dug a shelter. I don't think this was ever used, as we had no bombs dropped near us. (Just one in a field a mile away)
We had chickens, so we there were plenty of eggs. The only thing I remember being in short supply was sugar. When Mrs Hoeg had taken what she needed for cooking, the rest of us had a small jar of sugar to use as we wanted, but when that was finished we got no more until the following week, with the next rations collection.
Fortunately I have never had a sweet tooth so it didn't bother me a lot.
I spent 2 years with this family, during which I only saw my mother once, and my father, not at all.
I don't think that they couldn't afford the fares, and having assured themselves that I was well looked after, they only wrote letters, and sent the occasional postal order.
Our school was very well run and we missed none of our lessons, which couldn't be said of the children who stayed in London.
There were no busy roads so we were able to roam the countryside at will, and had some very happy times.
I have to emphasise that I was one of the lucky ones. Not all evacuees were so well treated, and many were so unhappy that their parents soon took them home again.

After two years the daughter of the house where I lived, was called up, she had never had an outside job, but stayed at home to help her mother with the household chores, Mrs Hoeg decided that she couldn't have an evacuee any more, I had to move on again.

This time I was billeted in a council house with a young couple without children.
They were kind to me and I had a lovely room of my own, with all the curtains and covers in blue.
However the lady of the house was very house proud and we had to take our shoes off whenever we came in from outside and put on slippers. They had a small garden and not too far away from my friends.
This billet didn't last very long.

In 1942 my father was called up into the army.
The worst of the bombing in London seemed to be over so my mother decided that I should come home.
I was sad to leave the countryside and the friends I had made, but when I got back to my old school I soon made new friends. I was also very far ahead of the other children with my schoolwork because their lessons had been badly disrupted by the numerous air raids.
My father was sent to Yorkshire for training and then a short leave before being sent to India.
We didn't see him again for 4 years.

During the next 3 years we still had air raids, but this time by rocket attack, which we called 'Doodlebugs'. These were very scary because you heard them coming, there was a droning sound and when the noise stopped you knew they would fall. At this stage we would rush to the safest place and wait for the explosion.
One fell in the school playground not far from our home. Several children were hurt, but no one was killed.

Rationing was very tight and we were always hungry. Very few children were fussy, we were so glad to get any food. Sometimes the greengrocer would have some fruit and there would be a long queue, I was sent to get what I could. I also used to have to queue up for at least an hour every Saturday at the Pet shop to get food for our small dog.

At last in May 1945 the war in Europe ended amidst great rejoicing, my father was still in Burma and we had to wait until some months until the the war in the East ended to feel that he was safe again. Things were still in short supply and rationing didn't end until 1954, by that time I was married.

Pam Chatterton

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