大象传媒

My first recollection of the approaching war was at school in 1938. Our teachers tried to explain to us the role of the siren that we were hearing as it was being tested. My next memory was being fitted for a gas mask. Since I was only nine years old in an age when children were taught to be seen and not heard, I asked no questions and had very little understanding what a war would mean for me personally. I vaguely recall seeing young men coming home dressed in the soldier's uniform of the Territorials and all the women aflutter. I did not understand what it was all about.

One year later in August of 1939, parents were instructed to have a suitcase packed for their children in readiness for evacuation in the event of war. Thus, on Sunday, September 1st, 1939 we children were told to report to our schools for transporation out of London. We were taken to a railroad station and put on a train for Bexhill-on-Sea.

My family consisted of my mother,(Ethel Horne,) four brothers (George Horne, Stephen Horne, William Horne, Ronald Horne)and two sisters (Doreen Beaver nee Horne, Ethel Fenner nee Horne). My eldest sister was married; three of my brothers were of age to be inducted into the army, leaving me and my brother and sister, Rene and Ronnie who are twins, to be evacuated.

When we arrived at our destination my sister and I along with two other young children were assigned to the home of the Misses Trotter who had volunteered to take evacuees. My brother was sent to live in a home a few houses down from where the Trotters lived. I remember the beautiful grandfather clock the Trotters had in their hallway. My sister and I were there for a short time. After about three weeks we were told we were moving; it appeared they preferred the two much younger children whose mother would be joining the household. Mrs. French, who ran a Boarding House across the street from the beach, was to be our new host. One of the boarders was a professor who was a refugee from Poland. He kindly gave me a prayer book in which he inscribed "Pray without ceasing, always pray." I still have it in my possession.

Since the house was across the street from the sea and the weather was still warm, we spent many hours on the beach collecting seashells and sea creatures. We took our collection back to our room. Mrs. French did not appreciate the oodours emanting from the sea life! We liked it when our brother, Ronnie, came by at breakfast time to visit, as he would eat our salty porridge. My sister and me hated salty porride but were not allowed to leave it. After a few months we were told we were moving again. This time to the home of a fireman's family. 1939 was a bitterly cold one with much snow. Because we were not allowed in the house during the day and we had only had school half a day because we shared the school with the local children, we spent our time roaming the streets and going to Woolworth's to keep warm. At the family's dinner table we did not receive our share of our butter and other rations and many times we left the table hungry.

During our stay in Bexhill I recall listening to Lord Haw Haw on the wireless saying goodnight to all the evacuees in Bexhill! It was his way of letting the government know that the Germans knew what was going on in England. We thought it was rather funny.

Inevitably the time came when we were moved on again. But after a couple of months we were advised that not only were we moving again but we, and all the other evacuees in our school, were going on a train to another part of the country since Bexhill was located on the English Channel and a German invasion was anticipated at any time. One June 26th, 1940 we took what seemed to be a very long train ride to South Wales. Since we had never met a Welshman we were very apprehensive about the whole thing.

When a bus deposited us in the very small village of Blaenau just outside of Llandibie in Carmarthenshire, South Wales, we went to the schoolhouse and waited for a family to come and choose us. My sister was chosen first by the Morgan family. They asked her if she had a baby sister, to which she replied "yes." They then sent for me and to their surprise and dismay, I turned out to be taller than my sister and not the baby they anticipated. But they kept us both.

Mrs. Morgan was a good lady, but tough. Mr. Morgan was a very gentle, soft-spoken man who earned his living as a miner. Their grown son, Emlyn, also a miner, was living there as was their daughter Nellie and her new husband, Girule. It was a full house! The Morgans were devout Methodists who insisted we go to Chapel Sunday morning, Sunday school in the afternoon, and Monday nights. Since the services were in Welsh we were bored to death and passed the time cracking our knuckles! But I remember the choir singing to this day, they sang so beautifully. Emlyn was a nice person much like his father, and he took my sister and me to see "The Wizard of Oz." It was the highlight of our life at the time. Two years ago when I was visiting Mrs. Morgan's great grandson and his family, I asked them to tell Emlyn that his kindness has stayed in my memory all these years. Nellie and Girule sometimes took us to Cross Hands, another small village, when they went to visit Girule's sister, Lizzie.

In time the Morgan's two year old grandson was brought by his parents from London to stay with his grandparents because of the Blitz. Because the house became so crowded we were told we had to move. I remember being so sad and crying as I did not want to leave as I was happy there. My sister moved to Llanellie to start Technical School and I moved within the village. My brother returned to London as soon as he was old enough to work.

I went to live with a Mrs. Ambrose and four other evacuees and we kind of had fun together despite the fact there was no indoor toilet, just an outhouse at the top of the garden, no hot water, and no bathroom. The three girls did all the housework and washing, and what the boys did I don't remember. Mrs. Ambrose was not a particularly nice lady as she played favourites. We had to play cards at night but if she were losing, she would throw the cards across the table. I still don't enjoy card games! During this time we all came down with impetigo, a very unpleasant skin ailment. It was made more difficult as we were all run down due to poor nutrition, which resulted in extremely painful boils and carbuncles, which were the worst. I still remember a nurse coming by the house, putting me over her knee, and piercing the carbuncle with a pair of scissors. My screams could have brought the house down!

While we evacuees were in Blaenau we shared the school with the Welsh children. They had one half and we had the other. We made friends with the Welsh children and had a lot of fun. One of our teachers, Mr. Taylor, drilled us in chorus singing and we entered the Welsh Eistedffods. I liked that as I enjoyed singing. The Welsh live to sing, and will form a choir at the drop of a hat. They also love poetry. They are very keen on education, and as a result I became aware of the value of a good education.

Eventually I came to understand Welsh and know exactly what was being said, not always a blessing, as I remember a friend of Mrs. Morgan's from across the street, saying she thought I was pretty. Mrs. Morgan did not agree! Other than the odd word and poetry and singing I regret I did not learn to speak Welsh. But I can still recite the Welsh National Anthem in Welsh! I still enjoy listening to the Welsh speak as they speak so musically.

While living in Blaenau we used to watch the bombs bursting in the air over Swansea, a German target because of its importance as a port. One resident of Blaenau was killed when Swansea Hospital suffered damage.

I loved living in Blaenau and was happy there even though I never saw my mother the whole time I was there. But other children were in the same circumstances, and I don't recall any of us being unduly upset. I suppose by this time we were all used to being on our own and moving round.

When Mrs. Ambrose decided to move to be with her daughter, Mrs. Morgan's daughter, Nellie Thomas, agreed to have me move back in, as by this time Mr. & Mrs. Morgan had moved away to enable Mr. Morgan to find other employment, due, I believe, to his suffering from silicosis after many years in the local colliery. I was extemely happy about this. During this time my Headmast, Mr. Wheeler, secured a scholarship for me to to the Roan School for Girls, temporarily located during the war in Ammanford. I used to take a bus into Ammanford, but money was scarce, and Nellie discovered she was going to have a baby, so I had to move to Ammandord. I was not keen on the family I was staying with but I was not with them too long as by then my sister had finished Technical School and was returning to London. My mother insisted I return with her. I did so reluctantly.

I arrived home in London in time for the buzz bombs and the V2 rockets. In fact, the flat I lived in was hit by a buzz bomb and we lost our possesions. The US Navy came to help dig all the occupants out of the air raid shelter which was located under the flats. We moved in temporarily with my brother's wife's family. The black out was very difficult, more so in London than Wales, especially when there was a thick fog. We used to hear the German planes flying overhead - we knew they were German by the sound of their engines. We could actually see the buzz bombs flying overhead; we knew if the engines stopped we had to duck for cover! The V2 rockets, unfortunately, did not give a warning, they just hit and that was that.

The Roan School for Girls was located on Devonshire Drive in Greenwich, within walking distance of my home. At school we had to run to the air raid shelters for safety when the siren went off. Unfortunately, some of the students I knew were killed when their homes took a direct hit from a rocket.

While at the Roan School I went away two summers with other pupils to help the farmers harvest the crops, as most of the men were away fighting. It was very hard work stacking the wheat and flax and pitching it up on the carts, as were very young - I was 14 by this time, but we perservered. We slept in a school on straw pallets, and pupils from a Technical School made our meals. We made friends with the German prisoners of war who were assigned to help in the harvest. They didn't
seem to want the war any more than we did, and they worried about their families.

When the European war finally ended I was 16 years old. A friend of mine (Ann Hobson nee Goldthorpe) and I with whom I have stayed in touch over all these many years, and with whom I visited this past August, went up to London to join the celebrations. It was terrific being outside Buckingham Palace among the huge throng celebrating. I was wearing a blue dress with red, white and blue ribbons I had sewn on. I thought I was quite smart!

I am happy and proud that I still have a relationship with the Morgan family. All though many of the original members are no longer with us, I have a warm relationship with the Morgan's granddaughter, Ann Lewis and her husband, Peter, and their son, Neil and his wife, Carol and their three children
Elinor, Magdlen, and Joseff, the Morgan's great great grandchildren. Neil and Carol have visited me in New York, and I visit them whenever I can when I return home for a visit.

Because of the war I did not see my older siblings for many years. When I returned they had married and moved on with their lives. The separation definitely impacted our family relationships. Over the past fifty years we have tried to rectify this situation. Considering the circumstances I am fortunate to have a very close relationship with my sister, Rene and her family, and many nice reunions over the years with my brothers and eldest sister.

So in our own way my family and I survived the tragedy that was World War II.

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