大象传媒

First Evacuation to Sittingbourne

My brother Jack and I were evacuated to Sittingbourne by train on September 1st. 1939. We stayed with Mr and Mrs Fullagar at 61, Chalkwell Road. They had no children of their own and they probably found it difficult dealing with two mischievous boys. My memory of this time is somewhat sketchy as I was just seven years old. My brother is almost three years older. The school we went to was somewhere near the High Street, I believe. I had just moved up into Luton Junior school and my teacher鈥檚 name was Mr. Lowden.

Our parents used to visit us at weekends and we would wait for them at the end of the road by the Coniston Hotel. If they could not make it on the Saturday they would come on Sunday. One weekend they could not come at all because our Dad was on essential war work (laying telephone lines). That was very disappointing for us. Our parents sent us a postcard explaining why. We only stayed in Sittingbourne until Christmas 1939, then our parents decided that we should come home. There was one incident when my brother went out for a walk with his friend, Brian Charlesworth, and eventually walked all the way home to Connaught Road. Our father had to get his car out and use his valuable petrol to bring them back. This did not amuse him at all.

Off Again 鈥� to Wales

We stayed at home until late May 1940, when we were evacuated to Abercarn in South Wales. As we were saying our 鈥淕oodbyes鈥� to friends, relatives and neighbours on the day of departure, Mrs Scott who ran a little grocery shop from her front room at 23 Connaught Road, Luton, gave us a big bar of Cadbury鈥檚 chocolate each. My brother ate his on the journey and I, after a little nibble and a lot of persuasion sold mine for sixpence (2陆 pence).

If I remember rightly we walked to Chatham station where, on the platform Jack spotted Mum in the crowd. He tried to point Mum out to me but all I could see was a mass of faces. I was disappointed as well as sad. My memory of the journey is a bit hazy, but I do remember that there were several stops on the way, all of them I suspect due to pressure of traffic on the railways at that time. The Dunkirk evacuation was in progress and we were held up to let the troop trains through. I can remember one stop we had due to signals that coincided with a station platform somewhere in England, a kindly porter handed out cups of water in thick white china cups that were the style of the day. When the train started to pull out of the station I have a lasting memory of the porter haring down the platform trying to recover the cups. It was hilarious to watch, some of them smashed as he tried to catch them and missed.

Arrival at Abercarn

We arrived at Abercarn sometime in the late afternoon/early evening. We alighted from the train and were taken to a school hall at the bottom of Gwyddon Road. We were given milk and biscuits. I remember standing at the back of a classroom where we saw people coming in, then leaving a while later with one or two of our classmates. It was reminiscent of an Arabian slave market. Jack and I were, I think, almost the last to be chosen. The lady who chose us was on the small side, about five feet four inches tall - her name was Mrs. Davage. We were taken by car with Mrs Davage to her house, which was not far away at 39 Gwyddon Road. Mr and Mrs Davage were a kindly couple. Mr Davage was to me, only a little boy, a great big man who worked in the local tin works. He was in fact a gentle giant. He showed us round his work place one evening sometime later.

Everyday life in Abercarn

By and large, I enjoyed my time in Abercarn, I made lots of friends with local children and also the adults. All of the people seemed to be very friendly. I remember one in particular, Mrs Knight who was a friend of the Davages. She had two grown up sons who both joined the R.A.F. Both I think were air crew but I am not sure about what their jobs were. She also had a lovely black Labrador whose name was Mick. Mrs Knight was a lovely friendly lady who I think was a widow. Mick would come round to the Davage鈥檚 during the spring and summer after tea to go for a walk with Mr Davage up into the mountains. I also used to tag along from time to time.

I cannot remember much about my schooling in Wales. It would have been much about the same as elsewhere. The school was situated in a part of Abercarn known as the West End, between one and two miles from where I was staying. As there were no school meals in those days, it meant that I had to walk that distance four times a day. I was, though very occasionally and only if it was raining hard, allowed to catch a bus.

The house at 39 Gwyddon Road was to me a very large one. It had a front garden and the front door was about fifteen to twenty feet up from the road. There were three downstairs rooms plus a scullery. Upstairs there were three bedrooms plus a bathroom, unheard of in our terraced house in Connaught Road, with two up and three down with no bathroom. Our bathroom was a galvanised bath in the kitchen where the copper was. It has since had a bathroom built on to the kitchen.

My teacher for the first few months was Mr Lowden, who was billeted opposite me. Living next door at No 37 were two retired female teachers and one of the girls鈥� teachers, whose name was Jenkins, was billeted at No 41. I cannot remember if she was married, so in effect I was surrounded by school teachers. Mr. Lowden eventually went into the Army, although he still sent me a Christmas card. I found out only recently that he returned to Luton School after the war. When we started school, we were doing half days, mornings one week afternoons the next. Jack was on opposite half days to me. As my Dad said we were not to be separated, to my mind these arrangements were separating us and were wrong, so I stayed with my brother in the afternoons but I was soon found out. I think Mr Lowden came over and asked where I was and if I was all right. Mrs Davage spoke to him and he agreed not to punish me but punish me he did, although I cannot remember what the punishment was.

Inspite of trundling all over the South of England and South Wales, Jack passed for the Math School. How he managed it in the middle of all that upheaval I will never know. During the summer of 1940 he had to move on to Porthcawl.

Visitors from home

During the summer holidays of 1940 our parents came to stay with us (what the sleeping arrangements were I cannot remember). Just before they arrived I was involved in a stone fight with the 鈥淕wyddonites鈥� versus the 鈥淟lanfachites鈥�. We were always at a disadvantage because we had to throw our stones up a steep wooded slope. I think the point of the fight was to gain control of the high ground held by the 鈥淟lanfachites鈥�. I was leading our gang up the slope when I decided to hole up behind a tree. After a while I poked my head out and wallop! I was hit on the head with a rather large stone; it had the desired effect as the 鈥淟lanfachites鈥� immediately vacated the high ground. Unfortunately I was not in the slightest bit interested as I was a little concussed. Mrs Davage took me to the doctor who put stitches in the wound. A few days later we met our parents at Newport Station. Mum said the first thing she saw was someone with a large elastoplast cross on their head, that someone was me and I got precious little sympathy for it.

While our parents were with us we went picking whinberries on Mt Rhyswg. If you have never tasted Whinberry pie, as made by Mrs Davage, then you have missed one of life鈥檚 culinary delights, even as I am writing about it now, I am drooling at the mouth.

Mum and Dad went home, Jack went to Porthcawl. I was then on my own. As I have already mentioned, our father had said before we went that we were not to be separated. They must have thought long and hard about it before they agreed to let Jack go to Porthcawl. Although his billet was not very nice the decision was obviously right.

Life at Abercarn without my brother Jack

By this time, as well as my school friends I had made friends with a lot of the local children and there were still large areas of Abercarn to explore so I had plenty to do. It was called a village but Abercarn was more like a small town with a population of between five and ten thousand people. It is on a main road (about eight miles from Newport,) that headed through Newbridge and Crumlin up into the valleys. It also had a river, the Ebbw, which was as black as the ace of spades. It is now a sort of pinky brown colour due no doubt to the closure of so many coal mines. The river Ebbw was fed by several mountain streams.

Abercarn also had a canal which is now a dual carriageway. There were several ways to cross the canal: one was the main road bridge; the second was any of the lock gates, and the third way was a very flimsy footbridge. Both of the last two were forbidden on threat of punishment, usually the cane if caught. This only added to the thrill and of course we could not resist the temptation occasionally, until one day when one of our lads fell off the footbridge and was drowned, as he was on his own. His surname was I think Fields. He came from Coronation Road, Luton. Abercarn also had a coalmine called the 鈥淧rince of Wales鈥� situated in the village itself. It had been closed down earlier this century after a nasty accident when I think about seventy miners were entombed and their bodies were left underground.

There was also a ramshackle cinema in the village. If I remember correctly the films were changed two or three times a week, so in the long winter evenings a lot of my time was spent in the cinema. One evening on the way home from the cinema, with the blackout in force and an air raid in progress, a bomb was dropped on the mountainside near Pentewaun about two miles down the valley. As the noise reverberated around the mountains and valleys I think I was the first person to do the sub four minute mile. Roger Bannister would not have been in the frame.

I did get to know the cashier who used to let me in for nothing, until one evening when the manager stood in the ticket office with her and I had no money on me. As the couple in front of me went to get their ticket, I panicked a little and dashed into the cinema and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. I expected to feel a hand on my shoulder prior to being thrown out on my ear but he must have been an old softy because he let me stay. After that experience I thought it was best to stay away for a while.

Mr Lowden鈥檚 bedroom backed on to the Recreation area by the Brook where most of us played. He took it on himself to be involved in our welfare. One of his ways to make sure we did not stay out too late playing in the evening was to hang out of his window two Union Jacks. The first one meant we had fifteen minutes left to play, the second meant that our time was up and we had to go in straight away or risk punishment. At first we used to obey the flags but after a while we got rather blas茅 about it and took no notice of them. Consequently because Mr Lowden lived opposite me I was caught out quite often and punishment beckoned.

Christmas with Jack

When Jack came at Christmas (1940) to stay with us, I am sure Mrs Davage took particular notice of his condition and wrote to our Mum and Dad about it. At some time Mum came down alone because Jack had threatened to run away, to pacify him and see what his billet was like.

1941 was much the same as the previous year, except for two incidents that I can recall. The first one was an accident that happened to me during the Christmas holidays. Jack had come to stay for the Yuletide period. One evening after Christmas we were playing marbles on the table, (no such thing as television in those days and precious little radio either,) when one of them fell on to the floor. On the hob in front of the fire (an open fire) was a saucepan with some broth or stew in it warming for our supper. As I bent down to retrieve the marble my trouser leg (short trousers) caught the handle of the saucepan, which was nearly boiling by this time and pulled it over my right leg. I leapt across the room in two bounds. Unfortunately before anyone could stop me, I rubbed my leg which removed several layers of skin. Flour and butter were applied to the scalded area in an attempt to cool it, all to no avail. I went to bed to spend quite a disturbed night. The doctor was called the following day, the same doctor who repaired my head; he was quite used to me by now. He dressed and bandaged the affected leg and I think he gave me some money, two or three pennies I believe. He called frequently to see me until nearly Easter.

While I was off sick and was able to go for short walks, I used to wave to an elderly man, (his name escapes me now,) and sometimes on a fine day if the window was open, (it was the front room window downstairs,) I would stop and talk to him. We did in fact become very friendly and I think he looked forward to seeing me, I know I looked forward to talking to him. After some weeks he died, probably of old age. I went to his funeral, I was still only eight, but a Welsh funeral in those days was rather strange as only men attended. I don鈥檛 know if that applied to the females as well. We all walked behind the hearse to the cemetery which was a solemn and sombre experience for one so young.

The second incident happened, if I remember rightly, in 1942 when I was walking home from school at dinnertime. There were a lot of soldiers wearing some type of jungle gear marching down Gwyddon Road and through the village. As I walked up Gwyddon Road the soldiers were marching down wearing slouch hats and their rifles at the trail, in single file columns of about ten or twelve at a time, alternating on either side of the road. When I arrived home I asked Mrs Davage what was happening. She of course did not know, but she did say that they had been going past all morning. When I went back to school after dinner they were still marching down the road. There must have been hundreds if not thousands of them.

Returning Home

Mum and Dad had decided by now it was safe enough for me to return home to Luton. Mum came and collected me and took me home in July 1942. I can remember there was an air raid in progress when we were near Swanley; there was some machine gun or cannon fire. I wanted to open the window and have a look as the train was now stationary but Mum wouldn鈥檛 let me.

In August, Jack and I went to stay with our Aunt, Uncle and Cousin at Bexley. While we were there I was lacklustre, listless and very much under the weather, so much so that my Aunt Florrie took me to see their doctor, who, after being put in the picture diagnosed that I was pining for Abercarn. I cannot remember what the treatment was, if any, but I obviously recovered.

Well, that is all I can recall at the moment, except that I can remember the LDV drilling with their broomsticks wearing civilian clothes, with their khaki armbands on the Recreation area. During one exercise they set up an ambush in a derelict building in the west end of Abercarn, known to us as the Chapel of Ease. This ambush was supposed to be a secret, but a group of us kids got to hear about it and sat on the wall opposite, laughing, joking and generally taking the mickey out of them. They in turn, in no uncertain manner told us what we should be doing with ourselves. Although something of a joke at the time each of these men were prepared to lay down their lives for their Country.

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