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Life on the farm where I was evacuated to in north Suffolk (from Gravesend in Kent) began during the snowy period in the winter and spring of 1940, most of the school children were billeted either in Becles or Bungay, 3 miles away, so there were only 3 boys of us in the local area of the school. We could get there but no one else could so school was suspended and we had a whale of a time!

The livestock were put out on the marshes and fields, but when the floods came up or there was snow on the marshes they had to be moved to the upper fields where it was dry and safe. The farm was about 180 acres. There were a dozen Suffolk horses, which were the power on the farm and there were 26 cows, some pigs with large white breeding sows, there were chickens, ducks. No sheep though. There were a couple of Shetland ponies, which us boys were allowed to use — we rode bare back with just the bridle. On one occasion we decided to assist with the moving of some 2-year-old Suffolk colts from the marsh area to the upper fields. We started to drive the colts at about 9 in the morning, we used dogs, and the colts hadn’t been broken so they were running around like mad things in the snow. On one occasion I remember the 15-foot snowdrift had a crust of ice and one of the colts fell through and completely disappeared. We had to get some ropes to get it out and it took hours we finally succeeding at about 4 o’clock. Then we took all the horses to the sheds in the upper fields. This is where they were to be wintered.

When the chores on the farm were finished during the day and it got dark early we used to help sorting out the horses when they came in from the fields. We would take the tack off and give them some food and when that was all done sometimes Chubby used to take us up to the fields with Trixie his whippet — a tiny little dog, Chubby could put Trixie in his coat pocket. When we got to the field he would put her down and she would sniff and smell out a hare and off she would go — all we could see was 2 v’s of white flurry of snow, one from Trixie and one from the hare. Of course the hare didn’t take cover they don’t take cover, they keep in the open and gradually Trixie was getting closer and closer and the hare swerved off into the centre of the field and lay down and screamed, Trixie just stopped. Chubby picked up the hare — that was one for the pot! That was quite an experience.

There was an old boy in the village who used to take us out for a bit of illegal poaching which was great. The water on the marshes froze and there was a sheet of ice about 4 inches thick and as the water went down underneath the ice rested on posts and the wood work of bridges about 4 feet above the ground, I remember we used to walk hundreds of yards along under the sheet of ice — looking up at it like a glass ceiling! We weren’t supposed to go down to the river, so of course we did. It was a death trap as the ice on the banks was like a shoot from the top of the embankment to the edge of the river, you only had to put your foot on the side and you would have been in the river and that would have been it! So we spent our days with no schooling, playing in the snow.

This story was submitted to the People’s War website by Diana Wilkinson of the CSV Action Desk at ´óÏó´«Ã½ Hereford and Worcester and has been added to the site with Mr John Meiklejohn’s permission. The author fully understands the site’s terms and conditions

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