大象传媒

I lived in Leeds with my parents and sister. We were with our Grandmother in Flamborough when war was imminent. Granny sent us back to Leeds because we were to be evacuated. How, what or where this decision was taken I don't know. I was 12 at the time so what went on inside a 12 year old mind was cetainly not the international situation.
We had been fitted with gas masks before the outbreak of war so we were ready for a gas attack, but certainly not frightened. It was all a big adventure. My sister was attending Allerton High School, but I was still at Chapeltown elementary school, so we were on different schedules. I seem to remember Mother waving me off on the tram outside the school, but I certainly don't remember any tearful good-bye. We were taken to Leeds City Station. This was familiar territory for me, as my Father worked for the LNER and we often went away by train, but for some of my school friends it was a new experience.
We were taken to Bawtry station goods yard and marshalled into a large warehouse (well that's what it seemed like) we were given a carrier bag with food in. I only remember a Kitkat and a tin of salmon, but there must have been other things as well.
The Kitiat was eaten long before we reached the village we were to go to. There were buses waiting outside the building to take children to various villages in the area. I was with about eight other children some of whom I knew from my school class. None of them were my particular friends at school. We went to the village hall and were selected by ladies seated at a big trestle table. I don't remember if I was amongst the first or last to be selected. I was taken with a girl I barely knew called Margaret. We walked down the village to a red brick house to an old lady called Mrs Johnson. I remember her as being very kind, but to my mind very strict. We were not allowed to do very much on Sunday only go to Church or for walks. Later on my Father sent my bike to me but I was not allowed to ride it on Sunday.
I had to sleep with Margaret in a double bed in the back room. We were both kind of home sick so we were a comfort to each other and in time got used to it. The lavatory was down at the bottom of the garden, it was not a flush lavatory,we never got used to that. We attended the church every Sunday and because we swelled the numer of young people in the village we were not in the choir, we were the choir. So twice on Sunday we sang our hearts out. My Father had sent some "segs" to put at the heels and toes of my shoes (segs are metal studs that preserved the life of the shoes by protecting the toes and heels) I remember these clanking over the stone floor of the church.
The village we were evacuated to was Scrooby in Nottinghamshire and as every "red blooded" American knows it is where the Pilgrim Fathers started from. The Manor Farm was where William Brewster lived and the church was the one he attended. I have loved the history of the Pigrim Fathers ever since. I almost feel that for a time history was a neighbour of mine. I have been back to the village on two occasions but my children have never seen Scrooby, which is a pity for apart from my history it is full of the history of a life and times so different from today.
We all went home in December 1939. The schools opened again and the war barely touched Leeds. I think we were bombed only a few times. Apart from friends who joined the forces, severe rationing and as a teen ager I suffered clothes rationing, the war really had very little effect on Leeds. The stories of bombing, damage and death didn't, thank goodness, come my way, but for me American history certainly did.

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