大象传媒

In late August 1939, as an eight year old, I was with my family on holiday in Graffham, a small Sussex village near Petworth. Our first appreciation of the implication of evacuation occurred as war broke out and coaches full of children, each wearing a luggage label, arrived in the village. We understood that they were from the Blackfriars area of London. After some two to three weeks, we returned home and back to school; evacuation did not affect the London suburbs where we lived in Carshalton. Some weeks later, the prospect of 鈥渆vacuation鈥� did however become a possibility when there was discussion and registration on a scheme to send children to countries of the British Empire (especially Canada and Australia) and the USA. Preparations were made for my brother and myself to go to the USA. Arrangements had been established with a distant relation of the family who lived in Pennsylvania. Tragically, a ship carrying a large number of children across the Atlantic was torpedoed and sunk and the scheme was abandoned.

For us, evacuation became a reality in July 1944. We were in the firing line of the Doodlebugs (Hitler鈥檚 V1s) and large numbers had fallen in Carshalton where we lived. On 15th July 1944, a month after the first flying bombs, I was scheduled to take a music examination in Sutton. However, instead of tinkling the ivories for an examiner, my brother and I were in a party of about 50, mostly from my school, who started on an adventure known as evacuation.

Early on that Saturday morning, we left home for the rendezvous, labelled and carrying our kit bags, and about fifty of us travelled by train to Victoria. By now the numbers of flying bombs approaching London from the south had virtually ceased, (the allied advance in France had overrun the sites near Cherbourg) and it was diminishing from the south east (Pas de Calais launch sites). I certainly do not remember any traumas as we went to London. We were taken by bus to Paddington and still did not know our destination. We were, however, clearly going to travel on the Great Western Railway (GWR), which restricted it slightly. Our luggage was in a road vehicle, and as we sat on the top deck of the bus waiting to disembark, a railway porter was seen to chalk the word Caerphilly on the back of the luggage wagon. Was that where we were going? No one would say; the destination was still shrouded in secrecy.

We moved on to the platform and then to the train and ultimately left London. Apart from the certainty that we were going west, we still did not know where. Somebody noticed a photograph of Caerphilly Castle in the compartment. It was usual at that time for there to be a selection of photographs above the seats, normally of interesting places in the area covered by the Railway Company. The view of the leaning tower was interesting. The train subsequently plunged into the Severn Tunnel so at least we were going to Wales. It has also to be remembered that at that time, the majority of signs that would allow one to get one鈥檚 bearings had been removed in the interests of security. Finally, we pulled into Caerphilly station; so now we really did know.

We were now in a much more hilly terrain and one could see the distant valleys so beloved of geography teachers. We were taken to the local school, Caerphilly Intermediate, where we waited to be processed. A local teacher chatted to us while we were waiting. Two things stick in my mind. The first was that hills round here were called mountains and the second was that very little of the Welsh language was used; he doubted whether he had heard more than half a dozen words in the course of everyday life. When the officials with their lists appeared, my brother and I did not have long to wait. I noticed that we were ticked off on a list and against our address it stated that the family would take one child or two if necessary. We were then taken a short distance by car to a detached house and were greeted extremely warmly and given a very nice room. We immediately felt at home with our foster parents, who suggested we called them Uncle and Auntie. They had a son, who was slightly younger than my brother and a daughter who was slightly older than me and was away at boarding school. The first thing we were told to do was to phone home. Telephones were manual and long distance, or trunk calls, often took sometime to connect. This had been aggravated by the war. To the delight of Mum and Dad we were eventually heard, loud and clear.

We were in a house on the edge of town with a farm just at the end of the road where a path led up the mountain. Next day we were climbing a nearby mountain called Cefn On (the ridge with the Mountain Ash trees). We eventually came to a wayside halt on the railway where trains would stop by request; quite a novelty to us. We then returned to Caerphilly by train. Trains provided an immense amount of interest as Caerphilly was a centre and major junction for numerous smaller lines that went up the various valleys. All the engines were steam and there were numerous novelties such as 鈥淧ush and pull鈥�, two carriage trains with the train controlled from a cab in the front of the coach when the engine was pushing. We went to the school on the Monday for administrative matters, but, for the moment, we were heading rapidly for the summer holidays and no school arrangements would be made until the start of the Autumn term.

We settled down rapidly and in the first week had been taken up the Rhymney Valley, had visited Cardiff and went to the cinema. There were two cinemas in Caerphilly, the Castle and the Workman鈥檚. The former was modern and seats cost 8d (compared with 9d at that time at home). The latter was older but much cheaper. We had also joined the local Scout troop, visited the Castle and had been haymaking on the nearby farm. We often helped on the milk-round where milk was measured from a churn into a jug; there were no bottles! A very full life was being led and the weather was hot and sunny.

Activities continued apace and with all of the family we went to the seaside for 4 nights. A real seaside holiday, the like of which we had not seen for a very long time. When the family went away for their summer holiday, our own parents were able to come down to stay with us for a fortnight break away from the rigours of the London suburbs.

In September, we met at the school in Caerphilly where the arrangements for our education at Pontypridd Intermediate School in the immediate future were outlined. We were given season tickets. On the first day of term, we set off for the station and travelled on the two carriage train, one with wooden seats. We passed through stations with names such as Nantgarw, Upper Boat, Rhydyfelin and Treforest, before reaching Pontypridd. I do not think the regular travellers were especially enamoured by the fifty odd 鈥渧accies鈥� who had invaded their travelling life. When we reached Ponty, we were interested to find that there were double-decker trolleybuses and that the minimum fare was only 陆d. We had been well briefed that the name of the town meant 鈥渂eautiful bridge鈥�. The bridge was certainly an impressive structure with its single span and the cylindrical holes at each end to reduce the weight. However, the years of blackening from the atmosphere in the Welsh valleys detracted from an image of beauty that was apparent in old pictures. Furthermore, the River Taff was a significant river but it was as black as night from the accumulation of coal dust.

The school was set on the side of the hill. Our status as evacuees did bestow some benefits. Unlike at home, there was corporal punishment administered by individual masters with a variety of 鈥渨eapons鈥�. Fortunately, custom apparently decreed that evacuees were not to be hit. Another benefit was being excused Welsh classes although we had to sing hymns in Welsh at the school assembly.

On Wednesday 6th September, blackout restrictions were relaxed in many parts of the UK including South Wales. It was called the 鈥淒im-out鈥� with less stringent regulations governing lights from houses and street lights being allowed for the first time since the outbreak of war. As we looked out across the valleys from our bedroom window, the sight of the ribbons of light snaking up those valleys is indelibly imprinted on my mind.

As September changed to October, we had settled in to the routine of school but still found new activities at the weekends. However, as the allies advanced across northern Europe, the launch sites for the doodlebugs were over-run and the reason for our being in Wales receded. We finally returned home at the end of October, the half term weekend.

On the final journey home from school, I walked across the mountain from Pontypridd to Sengenhydd, a mining village at the head of a valley that radiated from Caerphilly. I should perhaps have referred to an ex-mining village as the everlasting impression of that village was the site of a winding wheel that had been blown from its shaft by a serious explosion before the war. On our final day, we had a last look round and walked to Tongwynlais and Castell Coch. The latter was a fairy tale castle perched on the side of the hills just outside Taffs Well and overlooking the river.

That night we packed our kit bags and said our farewells as a short but highly significant interlude in our lives came to an end. It had been an enjoyable three months in South Wales that had broadened our outlook and left us with a fund of happy memories. We were pleased to return home, but were grateful to our foster parents for the sacrifices they had undoubtedly made. The V1s had essentially finished but V2 rockets would continue to descend on Greater London and its environs for some months to come.

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