大象传媒

VERA鈥橲 BIRTHDAY TRIP 鈥� EVACUATION

This is the wartime evacuation experience of my mother Vera Ivy Taylor (nee Pickering), (3.9.1928 鈥� 11.8.2002). The brother she refers to is Ron Pickering, former 大象传媒 sports broadcaster. This account was written for Ron鈥檚 daughter Kim, who is a teacher, in 1997. During the war Vera, Ron and their parents lived in Boleyn Road, Forest Gate, London E7. As well as these evacuation experiences she was also buried by the ceiling falling on her in her bedroom and was dug out by her father. She lost a close friend who was killed by a doodlebug which landed on the friend鈥檚 house when they came home from school for their lunch one day. She was also shot at by a German plane as she walked down the street on another day and saved herself when she dived into a front garden.

2nd September, 1939

My mother took my brother and me to the local school early in the morning, where we were to assemble. We were going away, we knew not where. Large labels were pinned to our coats, gas masks in a cardboard box over one shoulder and we carried our few belongings in a bag or case. Having said goodbye to our parents, all the children were crying as we boarded the coaches. As the coaches pulled away all we could see were the parents waving and crying. We were so frightened and had no understanding of what was happening. We all came from very poor families and had never been away from home before.

We eventually arrived at the station in London. We never knew the station or where we were because all important place names had been blacked out. The journey was very long indeed. We did not know at the time but the frequent stops on route were to allow troop movements non-stop. All the blinds on the train were drawn so either we were not to know where we were going or so that the enemy did not know what was going on. All I can remember of the journey is the endless crying of the children.

Eventually we reached our destination, a small village in Somerset and we were taken to the school hall. It was like a cattle market with farmers and the like grabbing boys so they could work. This is where I was separated from my brother. He was taken with another boy to a farm but I did not know this at the time. I cried because I had promised my mother that I would look after him as he was 18 months younger. A very nice gentleman tried to comfort me, telling me I could go to his house with another girl as he had a little baby girl about six months old. We had to stay until the end because the gentleman was the local headmaster and one of the organisors of the billeting. Each child had a carrier bag containing emergency supplies in case our hosts were unprepared 鈥� 1 tin of corned beef, 1 tin Nestle鈥檚 condensed milk and a large bar of chocolate.

When we reached the Headmaster鈥檚 house we were delighted. It was small but very pretty. We were shown 鈥榦ur鈥� room which was the room they had prepared for their first baby. I can remember every detail today. The bed was covered in frilled, spotted white muslin and all the curtains, cushions and pillows matched. We had never seen anything so nice since.

3rd September, 1939

The following morning we were taken to morning service at the village church. During the service it was announced that war had been declared at 11.00 a.m. All the way back from the church I cried. Not only had war started but it was my eleventh birthday. No one knew and there was no card from my parents.

We were, after a few days, allowed to write home but letters were censored by the teachers. Paper, stamps, etc. were provided as we had no money to buy anything, but at least it meant my parents could send me my birthday card and my present 鈥� a tube of sweets like smarties.

A short time later, probably about a month, some people called in a big black car. It turned out that my brother鈥檚 hosts had managed to locate me and my brother wanted me to join him at the farm. I did not like the look of these people at all and was loathe to leave the lovely people I was staying with, but I did want to see my brother and he was not with them. It was agreed that they would return in a few days with my brother and I would decide. Some days later I was to return with them to the farm.

I did not like the people or the farm. We had to work very hard. Two days spent up ladders picking walnuts, our hands were dyed dark brown. Riding very large shire horses with five others in tow, taking them down the streets to the fields for ploughing. Leading the cows to the bull pen for mating and being forced to watch.
This was all very frightening for town children who had never seen such large animals at close quarters. The farmhouse was very large with many rooms, probably more than twenty, with several rooms used for the storage of fruit, etc. The farmer had three sons and a daughter, difficult to remember but they were probably in their late teens or early twenties. Whilst we were there I cannot remember going to school much but we had plenty to do on the farm.

Meanwhile, all the parents at home had clubbed together to save small weekly amounts to book a coach to visit the children. At last my mother came. I had been sharing a bed with the farmer鈥檚 daughter, but she moved out that night to make room for my mother. When we went upstairs that night, my mother would not even sit on the bed. She asked lots of questions and we spent hours, it seemed, whispering. In the early hours I was sent to fetch my brother. Silently he dressed. We joined our mother and we crept out of the house and off the farm whilst the family slept. We walked to the local police station but no-one would listen to any complaints or accusations about a very respectable local family. We then walked to a house where London neighbours had a small coach house to themselves because there was a mother, grandmother and five children. They took us in for the remainder of the night and gave us food and drink for breakfast. We then went to the coach pick-up point in the village. As soon as we arrived it was obvious that many of the mothers had found their children in bad conditions for they were all taking them home again.

All the seats on the coach were filled and the driver said he could not take any more passengers. The mothers were crying and relating tales of how their children had suffered or been treated. Eventually all the children were allowed to sit on the floor of the coach. We had toile still and make no noise when going through towns and villages and were only allowed up to stretch when on country roads. The driver charged ten shillings for each child which was a great deal of money in those days. The mothers had no money left after saving for the trip so they had to give IOUs with their names and addresses. My parents had to pay a shilling a week for twenty weeks to pay off the debt.

When I looked back on these events and was old enough to understand, I wondered how my mother found the courage to do what she did to get us out of that house on that night and to face up to the authorities in that manner. I know the four men in the house were so big, they terrified her, and mother and daughter was no match either. She felt very intimidated. All the mothers on that trip were very unworldly people, timid of meeting strangers, and had never traveled beyond London before, on their own.

When we got home, my mother took both of us to the Health Officer at the Council Offices to make complaints. My brother and I did not understand, but we were covered in fleas and lice. We had to be bathed in an evil-smelling carbolic every day, have our hair cut very short, use a special shampoo and have it combed with a steel comb. As if that was not enough, it seems from what I had told my mother in the bedroom that night in answer to her questions, the daughter of the house was a lesbian and not a healthy sleeping companion for a young girl.

Despite all the accusations my mother made against this family, no action could be taken against this family because 鈥渢hey had kindly taken into their homes poor London children鈥�. Some time after we returned home, my father read of the arrest and imprisonment of the farmer and his sons for indecently assaulting young children (evacuees). The daughter was also involved but no details known. Thank God we were rescued early.

During 1940, my mother agreed to look after her sister鈥檚 little son. The Battle of Britain in September, 1940, meant we in London suffered air raids every night. It was a horrendous, frightening time. We had no sleep for many nights continuously. It was decided that all mothers with young children should be evacuated to a place of safety, away from the raids. We all qualified for this evacuation because of our young cousin.

14th November, 1940

We were duly transported out of London by coach. We arrived late at night and because of the blackout, very dark indeed, in a small village and taken to the church hall. There was a lovely fire in the stove, tea and refreshments provided, but as it was so late we were to sleep on straw palliases on the floor and given lodgings and billets in the morning. We settled down for the night in our little family groups. Early on we heard many aircraft, then the air raid sirens. Immediately crates of incendiary bombs were falling, several on the church roof and through the roof of the church hall. The roof began to burn, then support beams and then the floor. Everyone managed to get out without injury. The local people knew little about fire fighting and all the mothers and children were sheltering behind a wall in the church yard. With all the fires it was like daylight. One of the older boys, another twelve year old, and me used stirrup pumps and sand and water to put out the fires. (We had learnt this in London when all Scouts and Guides helped the Air Raid Wardens and Firewatchers). As soon as we were able, the two of us removed everyone鈥檚 luggage and personal belongings from the hall, with the help of a couple of elderly church wardens. The coach we had travelled in was brought round and we were taken to a local hospital for a bed for the rest of the night. We were taken upstairs to the top floor of the hospital There were no blinds at the windows and no light was allowed but everywhere was bright as day. Apart from the very young children, we spent to rest of the night watching from the windows and witnessed the bombing and burning of Coventry Cathedral and the City of Coventry. It was only about a mile away. We returned by coach to London next day to be told by my father that London had no air raids last night, but we had.

This all has to be viewed against a background of people who never travelled except short bus journeys. Our mothers never went out to work and fathers seldom could. There was no money and few clothes. People seldom strayed far from home except for a walk in the local park. To be taken so far away from home under such circumstances was a trauma in itself without all the bombing, and counseling is only a modern phenomenon.

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