大象传媒

Mary Pritchard nee Stewart was always known as 鈥淢aisie鈥�, was born in Everton, in Liverpool on the 16th May 1929. She was the oldest of six children. When war broke out on September 1st 1939, she was 10 years old. This is her story: On the Sunday myself and my sister Patricia aged 7 years, and little brother Joseph aged 5 years, were evacuated from school. As part of a Catholic family, we went to a local Catholic school. They heard Mass in St Francis Xaviers School. 鈥淵ou knew you were going to be evacuated鈥� we had our gas masks in little boxes with straps around our shoulders. Large paper labels with our name on them, pinned onto our clothes. We were not allowed to take much with us, for example, we were not able to take nightwear with us.

So myself, Patricia and Joseph, were taken to Lime Street Station, and put onto a train that left there about 11 am. My mum and little sister Magdalene, aged then about 2 years old, waved goodbye to us.

We arrived at our destination in Colwyn Bay in Wales with all the other evacuees. While we waited there to be chosen, it was very strange and lonely. An old lady Mrs Campbell, picked us out together with three other children.

The six of us slept in the same bed, three at one end, and three at the other, it was a bit crowded! One of the children used to snore and kept me awake! Every Saturday and Sunday morning we went to the 9 O鈥� Clock Mass, and then we had to go into the woods to collect wood for the fire.

Food was rationed I don鈥檛 remember what we ate during this time, but I remember eating salmon paste sandwiches for tea every night! We went to the local school held in the local church hall, all different ages of children in the same room. Parcels were sent from home with her name on them, but they did not always receive them. One day one of these addressed to me went to the local library, so I collected this and took it home, and when teacher found out she caned my hand with a ruler, and I still to this day remember how much that stung! I did not think it was right that I should be punished in this way, but that was how it was in those days. Mum came every week to see us, and one day she saw our scruffy clothes and appearance so took us home after nine months in Colwyn Bay.

Some time later at home in Liverpool, the Ack Ack guns were going off, the sirens were screaming. We were living in Salisbury Street in Everton, Liverpool 3. The government in their wisdom leading up to the war, had reinforced the basements or cellars of the houses, or those that had basements, with concrete and steel. During a particular raid after nearly two weeks of continuous bombing, we were sheltering for one night in the house opposite to where we lived, in the cellar. This was because we did not have a cellar in our own house. My mother was visiting her sister, just a few doors away. There was a lot of noise. Then a huge loud bang... we had taken a direct hit on our house! Fortunately the bedstead upstairs fell onto the cellar doorway and protected us, but it also blocked us in. Eventually the ARP warden pulled us out through a tiny hole. We did not know where our mother was with our little brother and sister, it was all total confusion. We found out the next day that our house opposite had also taken a direct hit, and a man named Mr Collins who was in the street ran inside to shelter, but was killed in there when the bomb hit.

Our father was a fireman with the General Post Office (GPO) in Hatton Garden, in Liverpool. When he heard what happened he had to find us, which he eventually did. We were with our Auntie Mag, who lived nearby. Because it was so crammed full with two large families under one roof we had to be re-housed, so that same week having nowhere to go we went to Aberystwyth, and spent the remainder of the war there.

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