大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Alex Kane of CSV Scotland on behalf of Jean Hendrie (Simpson) and has been added to the site with her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

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Like many at the time I was one of a large family, 10 of us to be precise, of which I was the second youngest. Of my 5 brothers who served in the forces the one in the Royal Engineers was captured in Crete and was a POW until the war ended, another was in the Royal Army Service Corps and two were in the Royal Artillery while the other was in the Black Watch and fought in Burma and India. All came home safe. Everybody was expected to do their bit; I even had a sister who served in the Forestry Corps as part of the Land Army. When I married later in life it turned out my husband had been a Desert Rat during the war, so as you can see, the war has a deep emotional hold on me.

I was living in Sandeman Street when war broke out and was evacuated to Kirriemuir at the tender age of 10 along with my younger sister Edith who was 8 years old, we did not want to go and my mother did not want to let us leave but we all did what we were told.

We went by train and from the station we were marched round the houses to find our new families. The first house we were taken to in Kirrie was that of an old lady and her daughter but the woman was prone to fits so we were not allowed to stay with her. The second woman was married with a wee boy aged 7 and her husband owned a local garage. She said she wanted my sister but my mother said she had to take both of us or neither, from that moment on I think the woman took an instant dislike to me. She was kind to her son and my wee sister but always blamed me for everything and told me I was a wee troublemaker. She hated me that much that she always made me eat my food using a dirty spoon. I think she only saw my sister and me as a meal ticket as she got paid for looking after us but the novelty wore off when she realised what she had let herself in for. In fact it was me who ended up becoming a glorified babysitter by not only looking after myself but her son and my wee sister also.

I hated living in Kirrie, I missed my mum and my family, but I do remember one day of excitement. It was the day a German flew over our school in Kirrie and we all had to dive for cover under the desks.

Finally I could take no more so one day I sneaked off to the tatties in an attempt to earn enough money to get the bus fare back to Dundee for Edith and I. The farmer took one look at me and asked my age (I was just over 11 by then). I attempted to lie but ended up bursting into tears as I explained to him what I was trying to do. The farmer took pity on me and ended up helping me pick my tatties (it makes me laugh when I think of him doing most of the work on his own tattie field and paying me for it). He told me if I came back the next day I could make another 4 shillings which would more than cover the 3 shilling return bus fare. I wisnae daft though, we only paid for the single as we knew we were not coming back.

When we turned up at our home back in Sandeman Street my mother took one look at us and burst out crying right there and then I knew I would never be going back to live in Kirrie. Right enough, my mother took me back but only to collect our clothes and my sister and I spent the rest of the war back in Dundee. All the schools were closed but I remember a boy in my old class鈥檚 mother rented out a room in Lorimer Street to a teacher and we all used to go there for our wartime schooling.

Even as a child during wartime the era left a big mark on me. I have even turned many of my experiences into poems, including my experience of that Kirriemuir railway platform. Nowadays I talk to school children about my wartime experiences and the deprivations that went with them; I think they feel quite lucky they have never had to live through such a thing.

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