大象传媒

Introduction
At the outbreak of the second World War, I was nine years of age and one of four children living with my parents in Dale Road, Normanton, Derby
With my two elder brothers aged eleven and thirteen and my younger sister aged seven, I attended St. Joseph's School which, shortly before the outbreak of war, was evacuated from Derby to avoid the expected enemy bombing of the built-up areas.
This is my story which took place in the first few months of a war which was to interrupt so many lives and was to last for a further five and a half years.

All through the summer of 1939 the was clouds gathered. Since my earliest recollections the world had never known peace and I remember the newspaper photographs of conflict in Abyssinia, China and Spain. Now the trouble was nearer to home and preparations were made for a war that seemed inevitable.

I remember one evening, before the outbreak of war, when the whole family attended Hastings Street School to be fitted with gas masks as a precaution against gas, should it be used in the expected air raids.

As a further precaution against the bombing of our towns and cities, plans were made to move or evacuate schools from the built up areas which might become targets for enemy bombers, to the safety of the countryside.

It was even whispered that children were going to Canada, so it was with some excitment that our names were put forward for possible evacuation.

The international situation worsened and just before the outbreak of war we were assembled at school for evacuation to a secret destination, each of us labelled with our name and address, carrying our gas mask and all our wordly possessions in a carrier bag or suitcase.

We boarded the bus at St Joseph's School and left for St. Mary's to join the remainder of the party amid many tearful farewells from the children and parents. After saying 'goodbye' at St Joseph's, most of the parents caught the trolley bus to town and arrived at St Mary's just before we left for a further round of farewells.

The bus eventually left, destination unknown, to us at least. I was still hopeful for Canada and wondered if I would be sea-sick on the crossing. Prior to leaving the Headmaster, Mr D Sweeney, warned that we might be machine gunned en route by enemy planes, and in the event, we were to shelter in the nearest ditch. This bothered me as I was wearing my one and only navy blue suit and I would have to decide between the wrath of my parents if the suit got muddied, againt the danger from the expected air attack.

We departed in great excitment and headed out of town. I had never left Derby before except for a day trip to Skegness so I had no idea which direction we were taking, but I expected to see the sea eventually.

After about half and hour we were passing through the first small town on our journey when I noticed that the bus was slowing down. Other buses in our convoy had already stopped outside a small chapel and children were getting out. We were told to follow and somewhat surprised, entered a crowded and noisy room. Someone seized me by the collar from behind and raised me off my feet, at the same time I heard a woman's voice say "I'll have him". My two brothers were grabbed by someone else and my young sister became lost in the crush of host-parents, teachers and children sorting themselves out. I realised that we had arrived at our secret destination.

It was eventually decided that my two brothers should go to one home and my sister and I to another so we were duly registered before setting off with our foster mother. I was pleasantly surprised to find that she had her own car, a rarity in those days, and I felt very superior waving to my mates as we drove past as they walked to their new homes. We learned that we had arrived at Ripley, not far from Derby but a long way from Canada.

We travelled to a large impressive house on the outskirts of town and on arrival were introduced to the children of the family, a boy and girl about our own ages. We were then handed over to a governess who supervised our unpacking and took for our first meal. This was eaten in the kitchen with the maid and when I asked if the other children were joining us I was told that they would be dining in the dining room with their parents. Bed time was at six pm, earlier than I was used to, I could hear the other kids playing in the fields and wished I was with them.

After baths the governess came to hear our prayers and at first tried to correct our Catholic Lords Prayer which was shorter than the Church of England version. Up to that time I was not aware that there were two versions.

The governess then asked if I'd had a motion that day. Having no idea what she was referring to, I told her I didn't know. Somewhat embarrased she asked if I had been to the toilet that day. I told her truthfully that I had. She wouldn't let it go at that and insisited on knowing if it was for a number one or number two. Again, not knowing what she meant, I decided that as number two was greater than number one I would tell her number two. I did and she went away apparently satisfied.

Shortly before we settled down to sleep our teachers arrived to visit and reassure us as they had done to all the children. They were also able to tell me that my brothers were living only a short distance away. It was a long while before I went to sleep that night, thinking of the journey, wondering about my parents and hoping the war would end next week and we could all go home.

The following day we all met up again at the Catholic Church and swopped stories, trying to outdo each other with our versions of the reception we had received in our new homes. We were to get to know the church very well during our early days as there was no organised school and although wanting to get away from our foster fomes during the day, our teachers were at a loss to find such a large party something to do. So for ease of supervision, and to get us out of the wet weather, we attended a great many church services. However the teaching staff did their best with little facilities and we eventually started some form of schooling in a room above a milk bar.

I believe that war with Germany was declared the day after our arrival and this was followed that same night by our first air raid alert when we were awakened from our sleep dimly aware of the frightening sound of the siren which was wailing away. Wrapped in a blanket we sleep-walked our way to the garage situated at the bottom of the garden and sat in the car until the all-clear siren sounded some time later. It had been a false alarm and was the only war activity I experienced during my stay in Ripley.

In the following weeks we settled into a routine of attending church and part time school, first in the milk bar and later in some premises shared with another school, they attending am and we attending pm. Time hung heavily on our hands, everyone was homesick, despite all that was done for us we missed Derby.

Saturday was visiting day for parents and every week Mam would come to Ripley by bus carrying two large suitcases of clean linen for my brothers, my sister and I. She would stay at Ripley for tea, collect the dirty washing and return on the bus to Derby. Included in the dirty washing left for her at our billet were table napkins and linen used only by the family. I never told her that we dined and lived separate lives from the family as I think she would have been hurt but I wasn't happy that they included so many things that we didn't have the use of.

I dreaded saying "Goodbye" to her and to avoid it would often go in the large garden and hide, hoping I wouldn't be found and made to say "Goodbye" before she had to leave for the bus.

After the excitment of war being declared we entered a period now known as the phoney war when there was little activity between the warring sides. As this progressed, the intitial patrioism of our foster parents waned and they arranged to transfer us to a home of one of their employees. The official version was that the daughter of the house had spots which they didn't want us to catch but we were told by the daughter that the room we were sleeping in had been hers and she wanted it back. I feel, in retrospect, that they had had enough and wanted to get back to their peace-time habits.

Our new foster parents were unloving and quarrelsome, to each other and to us, and in the brief time my sister and I stayed with them we both received the strap for minor misdemeanors.

Our unhappiness was obvious to our parents and well before Christmas, along with many others who had already returned to Derby, my parents withdrew us and we returned home. My two brothers had also moved billets during their stay and were now living happily at a dairy but there was no hesitation when the chance came to return home.

By the end of the year most of the evacuees had returned to Derby although some remained at Ripley throughout the war which meant that members of the teaching staff also had to stay when they might well have preferred to return.

So we returned home to face the war years, the air raids, the black-out and the food shortages of the next few years but happy to face them together.

I didn't go back to Ripley until many years after the war had ended. Now in middle life, I decided to break my journey one day while driving through and seek out again the familiar landmarks.

Distances seemed shorter and everything smaller. The house on the outskirts of towo where we had arrived that autumn day in 1939 now looked shrunken and run-down. A modern housing estate surrounded it and new roads and developments had sprung up in the fields where we used to play. I was unable to find the school near Peasehill Road which we shared with the local kids, it had either been demolished or my memory of it had faded. The dairy where my brothers were finally and happily evacuated to had also disappeared and cars were parked where the buildings once stood.

As a parent, I now realise what a tremendous wrench it must have been for our parents to place their children in the hands of strangers for an indefinite period and uncertain future.

Also our hosts at Ripley, often couples without experience of children or who had raised their families and were now once more without the responsibily of them.

In those troubled days they opened their homes and their hearts and received us with sympathy and understanding. I hope, in return, we didn't try them or hurt their feelings too much.

Perhaps they understood that we were confused, lonely and homesick and for many of us no kindness could replace our parents or familiar things we had left behind.

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