大象传媒

The day war was declared I was just over 6 years old.

The first memory I have is standing behind my brother Fred who was talking to my parents. He said to them that if there was going to be a war then "these kids will have to go away". I can only think he was refering to me and my two elder brothers Syd aged 9 and Arthur aged 12.

Syd and I were sent to Bengio in Hertfordshire during what was refered to as the "phoney war". This was immediately after the declaration of war and the Government was expecting bombing raids to start. However, this did not materialise and we returned home to 175 Clyde Road, Tottenham.

Some time later when the raids started, all three of us were taken to Tottenham bus station by my father who said we were being sent away for our own safety. So there we were, dressed in our suits and raincoats with our gas masks in a cardboard box tied around our necks with string. We also possessed identity cards, my number was DE1J52-8 a number we had to memorise.

Before the bus arrived Arther asked Dad for some sweets for the journey and this was the last that we spoke to or saw my Dad for some time. On his return home that evening he was despatched to St. Austell.

I do not recall feeling sad or crying, I just felt bewildered at what was happening to us. The next thing I can recall was arriving in Lincolnshire after a long journey. We arrived at a place called Easton on the Hill.

We were deposited in a hall, the local church hall probably, to await "distribution".

Syd and I were selected by a Mr and Mrs Hand who lived in a tiny cottage in what was then called Collywestern Road, now the A43 to Stamford.

We were shown to our room and settled in. Mr Hand, I think, worked as a builder. What I do recall is that he owned a shotgun and would take us down the lane by the side of the house where we would wait for a rabbit or a partridge.

Mrs Hand was quite a disciplinarian. Church attendance was required three times on Sunday and both of us were press ganged into the church choir. As I was the smallest I was to lead the choir each Sunday, a role I would not have thought possible given my background. I think my parents were believers, but not church people - more pub people than church!

We attended the local school and mixed with the local kids, we were just "vacees" to them and several altercations occured. Very near to our cottage was a farm, in fact it really enveloped the land all around us and we helped gather the harvest, collect eggs in buckets as the chickens really were "free" then. We would play in the fields opposite or in our street, no cars to worry about then.

Our stay there was cut short after an incident involving some chocolate, out of which someone had taken a bite. I was accused of this and Mrs Hand went to smack me and Syd intervened with a "don't touch my brother" and raised his hand to strike Mrs Hand. Whether a blow was struck or not, I can't recall, but the incident was deemed serious enough for the authorities to be alerted and he was to be sent away to what I expect was a sort of "correction home" or hostel. Anyway, I remember that day so well. I was outside the cottage with Mrs Hand and Syd when this black car arrived with two men inside. Syd was told to get in and we hugged each other and cried before he was driven away. I can still see him waving at me from the small rear window of the car.

Shortly after this I was to join him as he told my parents he would look out for me and never part from me.

The hostel as I will call it, was in Daventry Northamptonshire and was used for unruly boys such as Syd (not me!). We all ate in one communal area. Meals were at a very strict times, but I can't remember how good or bad they were. The school we attended was at the end of a very long lane between fields and we walked to and from school each day, often playing games on the way. In those days, boys and girls were kept apart and we encountered two lads who were the "tough guys" and would bully us kids and steal what little food we had been given. The day came when one of them left and the one remaining kid was set upon by the rest of us and given a good hiding. This ended the bullying.

As I said on the way to and from school we amused ourselves by using our catapults to smash the little bakerlite cones on telegraph poles which held the telephone lines in place. This and other misdemeanours were reported to the hostel and we were taken to task. This consisted of a leather belt on the bare bottom and being sent to bed with no tea. That meant no food from school lunch to the next morning. I can't remember how long we stayed at the hostel, but we did return home for a short while before being sent off again.

Our next destination was Thrapston in Northants. We were billeted with Mr and Mrs Woollard and their daughter who had an American boyfriend.

One day whilst playing in the fields we managed to get some cigarettes and matches and after smoking Syd decided to light the matches and toss them in the grass until it set on fire. Somehow this quickly spread to a nearby barn. Luckily we managed to put the blaze out and when we returned home we were questioned about the fire in a nearby barn. We protested our innocence, but the smell of smoke on our clothes and our singed hair gave us away.

In the early part of 1944, we returned home never to be sent away again. But the experience had taught me alot and exposed me to an entirely different way of life to the one I had experienced in London since birth.

Postscript

In 1993, when my brother Syd came over from Australia where he now lives, we decided to visit Easton on the Hill. Having arrived at the cottage where we lived we saw a man standing outside. We asked him if Mr and Mrs Hand once lived in the house and he replied that they did, but he now owned it. When we told him we were evacuees during 1940 he replied "you must be the Robinsons".

The man was in fact Dick Chambers who, with his brother Don, lived next door to the Hands and we went to school with them and became good friends during our stay. We still keep in touch.

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