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"This story was submitted to the People's War site by CSV/´óÏó´«Ã½ Radio Nottingham on behalf of Leonard H Reeve with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions"

World War 2 began for me, several months before September 1939. At this time we were living in Melfort Road, Thornton Heath, Croydon. One of my first remembrances of the forthcoming war was the delivery of an Anderson Air Raid shelter. Father and the rest of the family set to work, first digging a large hole in which we erected the shelter, and all the earth from the hole was then banked up on top of the shelter. Also during this time, my mother, hearing a rumour that sugar would be scare, stocked piled umpteen 2lb bags of granulated sugar on the welsh dresser in our kitchen.

Then came the day when we all listened to Mr Chamberlain on the radio, just before dinner. It was the 9th September 1939, and it must have been a Sunday as my Dad was at home. Very shortly after this, my eldest brother, sister and myself were evacuated to Brighton on the south coast. I believe that double decker London buses took us on this journey. The only part of the journey that I remember very clearly, was being processed at one of the local schools, which we later attended either mornings or afternoons. We were given a brown paper carrier bag, and were made to pass along a series of trestle tables, dropped items of food into them such as, jam, butter, bread, sugar etc. I assume that we arrived at very short notice, so that our new foster parents would not have had time to prepare for our coming.

We attended the local school, mornings one week and afternoons the next. The local children attended on the opposite half days to us. We were billeted in Moulscomb Avenue, which had a wide stretch of green down the centre at least 100 yards wide. In the spring of 1940, there was a very cold spell and there was a very heavy fall of snow. We built igloos by rolling large balls of snow and cutting them with spades to make building blocks. During our stay we were all registered, a man and woman called at each house, we were given an identity number and issued with an identity card. After the war our identity number became our national insurance number. By the summer of 1940 the Germans had started tip and run raids along the south coast, so our parents took us back to Thornton Heath. When we got home we found that our parents had moved into a council house in Norbury Avenue.

On our return, I resumed my Saturday and Sunday visits to Croydon Iron Foundry, where my father worked, sometimes I could earn a sixpence or two by helping out on the bomb casting line. When the sirens sounded the workmen carried on as usual, but a plane spotter was sent up on to the roof of the office, when he saw aircraft coming our way he would press a button which lit red lamps all over the works, people then took cover where they were or carried on with their work. One sat or sun afternoon we had had a long air raid, though nothing came near us. When my father and I cycled home that night we could see a large bank of white smoke in the distance. My father thought that it might be the docks area of London. As darkness fell, the bank of smoke took on a reddish hue until the huge fires lighted up the sky. The bombers returned that night and so they continued both day and night; the London blitz had started.

We spent our summer nights in the Anderson Shelter, down the garden and the winter nights in the Morrison Shelter indoors. The Anderson shelter had as many creature comforts as we could manage, electric light, an electric heater and an electric kettle for hot drinks. We had mattresses and bedding and could often have a good nights sleep if it wasn’t too noisy! There were candles and matches in case the electricity supply was cut which was quite frequently. We experienced several near misses; one night when we were in the indoor Morrison shelter there was a very loud bang which sounded close by. After a few minutes we noticed a strange smell so dad went outside to investigate, on his return, his face was ashen, an oil bomb had fallen in the front garden of the house opposite ours, oil was spread over several houses including ours, but the incendiary part had failed to ignite. How lucky can you get? Another time a very heavy HE exploded not very far from us, after the explosion it was very quiet for a spell; then we began to hear the swish of flying objects which landed around us causing damage to roof tops etc. the bomb had landed over half a mile from us, debris had been thrown as far as us, and further, when we got chance to see where it had landed, we saw that it had fallen in the middle of the road, the crater was the full width of the road and both footpaths, something like 40 foot across. We lost window glass and plaster but otherwise our house was undamaged.

The attempted to attend school each day, sometimes we arrives to spend the day in the school shelters; other times we got stuck, as it was necessary to take shelter somewhere on the way. We knew where every public shelter was on the way to school but if necessary we also knocked on the nearest front door, or just ran round the back to join the residents in their shelter. Like many young boys, we walked along the curb, not playing marbles but collecting shrapnel. School pals would drop off into their homes as we went along; and we would collect them on the way to school the next morning, sometimes their house was not there anymore. Parts of houses which received a direct hit, were often scattered far and wide, if there was anybody in the house at the time, they were also found scattered in the same way. It was not uncommon to find bits of bodies lying in the road, especially in the morning.

We stayed at home for quite a while, but eventually the inevitable happened, my eldest brother, sister and I were once more evacuated. We carried in a paper carrier bag, one change of clothing and a packed lunch. A large luggage label was attached to our jackets, on which was printed out names and home addresses. Over our shoulders was the regulation gas mask in its cardboard box. We took the number 42 tram to West Croydon Station, and then we walked to the John Ruskin Grammar School for Boys. Here we were all sorted into small groups, with a mixture of ages, he elder children having to look after the smaller ones. It was eventually revealed that the small groups related to railway compartments, one group to each railway compartment. Although there was an air raid in progress, we walked back to West Croydon Station, and boarded a steam train. We spent the rest of the day in this train, making stops to pick up other children during the morning. Occasionally, the train would stop for an engine exchange, or the engine would be transferred to the other end of the train, and we would leave the station or sliding in the opposite direction. We occupied our time looking out for suitable tobogganing runs etc. we saw very little of any adults during this journey, if there were any on the train.

Eventually we arrived at Wadebridge Station, Cornwall. Here we left the train and walked, still in our small groups, a short way to a large building, which looked like a railway station, but without the trains and platforms. I believe that it might have been a market hall. We received a hot meal and a lovely hot cup of tea. Straw paliases were laid out for us on the floor and we were given a pillow and blankets; it was not very long before we were all fast asleep.

The next morning, after a cooked breakfast, we were placed into coaches and driven away, the coach in which my brother, sister and I were in took us to Glynn house, near Bodmin Road Station. This I believe was the home of Lord Glynn. In twos and threes we were taken away from the main body of children, and introduced to our new foster parents. My brother and I went to one cottage, and our sister went to the cottage next door (Dreason Cottages). It was quite an experience for us, the cottages had no running water, no electricity, no gas and the toilet was down the garden past the well pump. In spite of the lack of these facilities we were very comfortable, warm and well fed. My brother and I were lodging with Mr Lewis and Mrs Rose Trevains, Mr Trevains was a stonemason on the estate of Lord Roberts of Lanhydrock House, Lord Roberts owned all the land around the house.

We went to school with the local schoolchildren; it was a village school of two rooms, the infants were in one room, everybody else were all in the other room. Once again, there was no running water, or electricity, and the toilets were down the garden. Our school hours were adjusted to fit in with day light hours, mainly to allow us to walk home in daylight. At the time of this move, I should have taken my eleven-plus exam, but because I had moved, I wasn’t registered in Cornwall, and so I couldn’t sit the exam.

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