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This is the story of Mary Ross Anderson and her family. Mary is my Mother-in-law, and is still living in England. Mary and her family moved out to Belgium in 1929. Her father worked for Whitbread's brewery in Scotland and the move was facilitiated by them. When the Nazis began to sweep across Europe Mary and her family had to flee their home in Belgium, leaving everything behind, to return to Britain. This is Mary's extraordinary story in her own words.

I was born in Kirkcaldy on the 8th June 1929. My name was Mary Ross Anderson.

My mother's name was Marion Horne and my Father's name was Charles Ross, hence the Ross in my name. Our daughter Barbara is last in line with the name Ross.

Both my parents were born in the Kingdom Of Fife. My family in order of age are David, Nessie who died at the age of three, and her twin sister who was still born, John who lost his life at the age of 17 while serving with the merchant Navy during the Second World War. His ship was torpedoed and he was never found. Then there were Moira, myself, Charles, Tom and Robert.

I don't know much about my grandparents, as I did not spend my young life amongst them. My grandfather Horne was a fisherman as I imagine most men in Kirkcaldy would be as it was a fishing village. He also helped out with the Royal Lifeboat Institute. He once saved a life and was decorated for it. There was a photograph but I don't know what became of it. My Granddad Horne died before I knew him. Granddad Anderson was a nice man. I met him several times. My mother had three sisters, Jessie, Maggie and Agnes. There was a brother Tom also. I think there were more but I never knew them. The sisters all lived in Kirkcaldy, but Tom emigrated to New Zealand and to my knowledge never returned to visit his family. He still has family there, and my cousin Nessie, Aunt Jessie's daughter, still keeps in touch with them. My father also came from a large family, but I only know of Peter, William, Jenny, who lived not far from Granddad Anderson, and Mary after whom I was named. Both my parents worked in the Kircaldy Linoleum Factory.
I think they may even have met there, my father's hobby was football. and he played for several years for Raith Rovers and also for two English teams as a visiting player. His brothers also played for a team but I don't know which.

In 1929 shortly after I was born there was a great depression in the land and jobs could not be found. It was very worrying as families had to be fed. I don't know how my father got his new job, but it meant leaving his family and friends and his football, He had to travel to Brussels in Belgium to take up a job with Whitbread’s Brewery. When I was three months old, my mother also left behind her family and friends to travel to Belgium to join my father. Can you imagine what that journey must have been like for her. A woman with four young children, never having been out of Kirkcaldy. It must have been dreadful. But she made it. My father had a house for her and some furniture. The neighbours were all very nice, but unfortunately the language was a problem so they could not communicate. They tried asking my parents if I was a boy or a girl. With no satisfaction I eventually was named Babby, which in time became Babs. I am known as Babs to all my family but I had to become Mary again when I started work.

I spent 11 happy years in Belgium. We lived for several years in a village called Neder Overhembek. Some of the things I remember most vividly are the times my mother would have to carry us to school as the snow was so deep. I remember one Christmas being in the bedroom, and I distinctly heard Father Christmas going across the rooftop with his sledge and reindeers. Our highlight at Christmas was Christmas Eve. Just before bedtime, my father would call us into the front room. What a sight met your eyes.

The tree was up, beautifully decorated and lit with candles, real candles and all different colours and sparkling like stars. We didn't have fairy lights like you have now. I know that nothing will ever replace the sight of my father's tree. On Christmas morning the candles were lit again. Once they burnt down that was the end of the candles. They burned too quick. We could not afford to keep replacing them. Also as the tree was in the front room, it was much too dangerous to leave it unattended.
We were allowed to choose 5 items for Christmas. mine perhaps would consist of a doll, a pram, a book, pencils and a jigsaw. I would get all of them maybe except the pram, but I didn't miss it as there was always something else in its place, and of course we got sweets and an apple and orange. Can you imagine the variety of toys there would be that morning as none of us chose the same toys. Oh what fun we had. At Christmas time at school you were also given a present, plus sweets and gingerbread, just like your gingerbread men but ours was a Santa. We could choose our gift within reason, and I don't ever remember being disappointed. Very poor children were encouraged by their parents to choose a dress if a girl or trousers if a boy, but unfortunately all the dresses were alike as were all the trousers. My mother was too proud to accept them.

Belgium was a Catholic country and therefore we went to a catholic school. At our school we were taught by ordinary catholic teachers but in the Roman Catholic schools the pupils were taught by Nuns and Priests. On very special days such as Easter, a Priest would come to our school for special prayers. Moira and I did not participate in this as our patents had installed it into us that we were Protestant and therefore we were different from the other children. I could never understand this, as I had not been brought up to go to Church.

My parents had always been very religious. As a child and even as an adult, we were not allowed to play noisily on a Sunday. No games, no knitting, no music etc. My mother and David often travelled into Brussels to Church. It was no use anyone else going for we could speak no English. My mother spoke a little Flemish and my father a little French. We could all say yes and no, mummy and daddy, that was all the English we knew. The Church was very good to us. At Christmas time they used to deliver a large food hamper and a box of toys. I remember one Christmas. I was about 4 years old, and when the toys were unpacked there was a beautiful china doll dressed in blue with eyes that opened and closed. Now the problem for my parents was who to give the doll to. Moira and my name were put in a hat and I won. What good did it do. None. Because the doll was china, I was not allowed to play with her and she sat on the mantelshelf for years.

In the summer time we played out in the country lanes. We picked carrots and turnips from the edge of the farmer’s fields. We would clean them down the front of our clothing and eat them. They were delicious.

When I was school age, we moved to a village called Strombeck. I liked it there. Each time there was an addition to the family we moved house. I remember having a playroom at the top of the house. We each had our own little corner to put our toys. Moira and I had a lovely doll's house each. Now it was not a big wooden one or a Playmobile one like children have nowadays. Our little houses were birds’ cages. Old ones that were going to be thrown out. We spent many happy hours playing with them. We al1 played together in this room and I don't remember any quarrels amongst us.
Moira had a scooter, the type with one wheel at the front and one at the back and brakes. Now the brakes were not working and I was on the back of the scooter with Moira as the driver. We went down a hill, I fell off and Moira
went into the wall. Not a pretty sight of course. I was blamed for it for I should not have been on it, I
got into dreadful trouble for that.

When we went to bed, we always had a bedtime story. These stories did not come from books but from David's head. He was brilliant. His stories were always about children who had been shipwrecked on a desert island. Either he copied them from Enid Blyton, or she copied him. Now these bedtime stories only had one drawback. Now you know as well as me that if you are lying in bed reading a book you eventually fall asleep. Well the same happened with us. The result of this being, when David restarted where he had left off it did not match what we had heard last, but we soon caught up again the following night then fell asleep again.

Another thing that I always remember was that my mother would not let me go to my friends’ church. Now I wanted to go there because they had very special days were they all got dressed up. Little girls with long white dresses and veils and little boys in white suits. Of course they were doing their first communion. It was a beautiful day. All the children were taken to church on farm wagons decorated with flowers, and flowers were strewn to all onlookers. After the ceremony again they would board the wagons, and there would be music and singing and flowers being thrown again. This would be followed by photographs and then a party. My sister and I would just get to hear about it at school next day.

We visited the dentist once a month with the school. If you were absent from school, the coach came to your home, and as long as you were fit you went. On arrival you collected a paper hat just like a chef wears with your name on it. The dental surgery reminded you of a hospital ward with 20 beds, but instead of beds it was 20 dental chairs. I was terrified. Once all your treatment was finished you were allowed to take your hat home. I remember when I was about 11 years old, David taking me to a dentist. Sitting in the waiting room, playing Lotto now better known as Bingo, I suddenly heard screaming coming from the treatment room. I took to my heels and ran as fast as I could, but
unfortunately David caught me and dragged me back. Another early recollection was our summer holidays. The weather was always brilliant. When we children went anywhere David was always in charge being the eldest. My mother used to give us a bag with bread and a drink and off we would go to the park. Now the park was not just round the corner, but we didn't mind the walk. We had no cars. On the way to the park, we had to pass a very quiet house that we had nicknamed the haunted house. We used to tiptoe past it but not before we would sneak in and pick up any fallen Apples and Pears We never picked any from the trees because our parents had taught us to respect other people's property.

We had a plentiful garden. My father grew all his own produce having such a large family to feed.
He grew all types of vegetables. We grew all jam fruit, apples, pears, plums and cherries. The small fruit was used to make jam, as were the cherries. The Apples and pears were stored up in the attic between sacks. We children were the envy of our school friends because everyday at school we had a piece of fresh fruit.

Another envy of our friends was my mother's chips. In these days chips in Belgium were unheard of. Our friends used to hang around the door hoping that if there were any left overs they would get them. It sometimes happened but with so many hungry mouths to feed not very often.

We had no expensive toys to play with like children have now. We made our own. We built a tent with branches and bulrushes. This was our special little house and we would spend many hours playing there by the stream and looking for frogs. The fair also visited the village once a year and only for 24 hours. We enjoyed that and you could win prizes on the merry go round. It was fun.

Once a week my mother went to Brussels to do her shopping. I loved to go with her as we went in the tramcar, and in most shops you got free samples. We used to come home loaded with food. She used to buy a whole cod and my father cut it up into steaks and we all got one for tea with chips of course.

We went to the Empire Exhibition with our parents. I think every King and Queen in the world were there. I can still remember the beautiful dresses.

The school used to take us to different outings. We went to exhibitions and were given lots of free samples, such as pencils, flags magazines etc. You got samples at the food stalls and drinks at the drinks stalls. The one I hated was the Bovril stall because we had to accept it. It was horrible. In the wintertime, you had to bring a spoon and a flannel to school. As you entered school, the spoon was brought out and you were given a spoonful of cough mixture. I liked it . It was lovely. Then you went and washed your spoon and dried it with your flannel and put away bill the next morning. At Easter time we went out to the playground and searched in the gardens for Easter eggs. When you went back to the classroom there would be a chocolate egg on your desk:. At home we had dyed eggs and a small chocolate one and we would go and roll them down a hill.

My Uncle Andrew and Auntie Maggie from Kirkcaldy once won £20 with the football pools. They used it to come and pay us a visit in Belgium. When they left they took John back with them. The reason given was it would allow John to learn the language, but deep down it was to help my mother. One less mouth to feed.

Sometime during our early schooldays, Moira and I went to boarding school in Blankenberg and Mariakerke. All our clothing had to be clearly marked with our name. We had a very good education. It was a very strict life but a happy one. When writing home which we had to do once a week, all our letters were censored. We had lots of nice outings to the beach. I had never been to the beach before that and at holiday times our parents would come to visit us. The only thing I did not enjoy was the communal showers. We had never been used to mixing with other people.

The war started in September 1939. I don't remember how it affected us children. I expect our parents thought differently. That year amongst my Christmas presents was a book called The Little Princess. Several weeks earlier my mother had taken Moira and I into Brussels to see the film, which starred Shirley Temple. She was every little girl's dream. Now I had loaned this book to my friend Simone. When the war started the schools closed. Now this caused a problem. How was I going to get my book back. I managed to persuade my mother to let me go and fetch it. David had already started work so Charles and Tom came with me. I got my book back but not before we were all caught in some crossfire on the way home. When we did get home there was great excitement in the village. The local farmer had been cutting the hay with a scythe. Unknown to him a parachutist had come down in his field and he was cut in two. How true this story is I don't know.

I don’t know when David left Belgium. It must have been late 1939 or early 1940. If he had stayed there he would have had no alternative but to join the Belgium Army. He did not want to do that. He wanted to fight for his own country. Anyone joining the Forces now would have to take very hard exams to be accepted, but in these days they would accept anyone who was willing to fight for their country. David told them he was 18 when in fact he was only 17. The first recruitment office told him to come back when he was old enough, but the second recruitment office did not argue with him and he was accepted. One afternoon in May 1940 my father arrived home early from work. He announced that we had to leave the country. Being enemies of the Germans, we would have been in serious trouble if we had stayed. It was a terrible announcement. My mother was crying. She didn't want to go. Although I was nearly 11 it was a terrible shock. I had 12 dolls, Books, Jigsaws. I could take nothing. We were told to go and put on a second layer of clothing as we could take no luggage. I suppose it was worse for my mother leaving her home, her furniture, clothing, our cat, and our budgie, all they had worked for. All we took with us was a portrait of my father in his Black Watch uniform, the family bible, both which are in David's safe keeping. I have all the family photographs.

All our neighbours came to see us off. We children clambered in the van that had come to collect us. It took a long time to get my mother out of the house. She eventually came out not looking back. We were the only children in the van but there were lots of other adults. There was Moira 12 years old, I was 1 month from my 11th birthday, Charles who was 7, Tom who was about 4 and Robert 18 months old.

We travelled for hours. A journey from Brussels to Ostend would normally have taken 3 to 4 hours but it took us until the following day. There were thousands of people walking, some pushing bicycles, some pushing prams, carts, anything that would carry their possessions. There were cars, vans lorries, lots and lots of children. We were the lucky ones that had some sort of transport, everyone wanted to escape from the Germans as they were already in Belgium. At one point in the middle of the night, we were stopped to allow a convoy of German soldiers and artillery past. We were terrified. Also during this dreadful journey, there was a man walking behind our van. I don't know if he was invited to jump in or if he asked but I remember him sitting on the dashboard of the van. He wore a white scarf with which he kept playing. We experienced quite a bad air raid. Everybody was screaming when we heard the planes coming. Everybody stopped in their tracks and ran into ditches. All except my mother and Robert. She could not get out quick enough but she hid under the benches in the van. A British artillery gun shot the plane down that had machined gunned our van. The only one touched. Luckily my mother and brother were safe, but I don't know when it occurred to us all that we had a spy on board.

We eventually arrived in Ostend. We had to go straight to the Embassy to see about passports etc. then we had to join long queues to board a ship. We had to wait such a long time that Moira and I had to go off and find a kind lady who would make up a bottle of milk for him. The sirens went off, everybody scattered. I found myself under a bridge with my father and Moira. Again my mother did not make it. She was inside the Embassy under a desk with the boys. All clears came, we rejoined the queues but our impending ship had been torpedoed. No further ship was available that night. We were put up in a hotel for the night and it was there that I first tasted mussels. They were delicious. No sooner in bed when the sirens went off again. We spent the whole night in the basement. Mind you if a bomb had hit the hotel, we would have been dead anyway in a cellar.

Next morning leaving the hotel, there was not a window left on the whole of the seafront. Every one had been shattered by the Air raid. We finally boarded another ship. The crew were very good to us children by giving up their bunks for us. Our ship crossed the Channel guarded by a flotilla of small ships. We landed in Dover in the early hours of the morning but were not allowed to disembark until 7 a.m. Earlier that morning about 5 o'clock a police launch came along side our ship and took the spy from our van off the ship. They also picked up a parachutist who had come down in the sea.

When we finally disembarked, after lots of tears from my mother, the Salvation army were waiting to help us and give us comfort and tea. I've always remembered their kindness. During all this time my mother was very distressed. We were taken by coach to hostels in London. I remember there were mats on the floor for sleeping on. This was quite an adventure to us children. Our parents were questioned as to where their relatives lived who could offer us a home. My mother refused to answer any questions as she felt, she went to Belgium with nothing but she was coming back with less. My father kept trying to persuade her to no avail. A telegram was sent to my grandmother Horne and the reply must have come back to tell my mother to come home. We boarded a train for Kirkcaldy. We were all very tired by this time. I
remember crossing the Forth Bridge and thinking that everyone would be wearing a kilt. I was disappointed. Now as I told you before, my parents had never mastered the language, and we could not speak English. We children spoke Flemish and French fluently.

My aunts were all at my grandmothers . It must have seemed like an auction. Aunt Jennie took Moira, because she had children around the same age. Tom and Charles went to Granddad Anderson, my mother stayed with my grandmother Horne my father also at Granddad Anderson, and I to my Aunt Nessie, who had a daughter Nessie a year younger than me. I have been friends with Nessie to this day. The very next morning after my arrival I was taken to school. I was put into a class of 9 year olds. Luckily for me my teacher could speak a little French. For the six weeks I lived in Kirkcaldy, I got upgraded to the 11-year-old class. In the six weeks we could speak English fluently and French and Flemish was forgotten. Two days after arriving in Kirkcaldy, my rather left for Glasgow to work for Whitbread’s Brewery. It took 6 weeks to arrange a house and contents for us. We left Kirkcaldy and travelled to Glasgow. The house was dreadful compared to what we had left because nothing was familiar to us. The house was up three flights of stairs, it had three bedrooms and a toilet. All the furniture was second-hand. My mother was devastated. Although we had been very poor in Belgium what our parents owned was their own. All this furniture had belonged to someone else, my parents fought bureaucracy and finally were given a new bedroom suite. It took a long time before our house became a home again, before it was filled with toys, ornaments, a cat, etc. but eventually we had it all. We had many air raids in Glasgow and had lots of sleepless nights. Moira and I joined the Girl Guides. These were happy days. We stayed in Guiding till we were both 18 years old. We had to attend Church parade once a month and this introduced me to Church. Charles and Tom joined Boys Brigade.

On David’s demob, he bought two second hand bicycles. One between Moira and I and one between Charles and Tom. Charles never did master to use one. We had great fun with these.

David married Ruby and had seven children. I married Robert and have four children. Moira married Bob and has two sons. Tom married Doreen and they have two daughters. They have divorced and Torn has remarried Loraine. Charles married Liz a divorcee with a girl and a boy. Charles adopted both children, but has since divorced. Robert married Anne and they have two sons and a daughter.

To my knowledge, this is as near and true to the life I have lived.

I trust there will be many more years for the people mentioned in this story.

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