大象传媒

I was four years old when the war broke out. My parents John and Jill Robson had a home for 25 boys. The society was the Waif and Strays, but later changed its name to The Church of England Children's Society.
My father was blind in one eye and extremely deaf so was considered not suitable for active service.
Everywhere in Hastings there seemed to be big guns. Canons of course, facing out to sea. They frightened me. We now could not go down onto the beach as there were rolls and rolls of barbed wire.
There was an air-raid shelter at the bottom of the large garden, which was big enough for 27 children to lie down on wooden slates. We could hear the planes going over on their way to London, and could tell what planes they were by the sound of the engine. We then had a lull until the planes came back on their way home. They then dropped any bombs they had left over. It was petrifing to hear them coming closer and closer until they began to go further away. One could see the devastation the next day. At night the sky was lit up with searchlights, waving to and fro. One thing I particularly remember was the condensation which ran down the walls of the airraid shelter. I called it 'spillies'. One night my mother went into the house to make everyone some cocoa and I was sure she was going to be killed. I sat on the air-raid shelter steps until she returned. We all had gas-masks which were carried everywhere in a cardboard box with string. We had to rehearse and the mask was extremely hot to wear and it was not easy to breath.
In July 1940 we were removed to Tallentire Hall near Cockermouth in Cumberland. This was an enormous Victorian house which belonged to Mrs. Barraclough. We all got up at 4:30 and travelled by train to London. We had to cross London by underground. I remember sitting for what seemed like ages on a London platform and the noise of everything was trememdous. We had our names pinned onto us. I was given a pork pie to eat. It was absolutely delicious and I spent years afterwards trying to find one as nice. Never succeeded. Obviously I was starving. We arrived at Carlisle Station late that evening and travelled to Tallentire in a lorry arriving at midnight.
There were no airraids, no bombs but Italian prisoners of war worked for the local farmers. They wore jackets with patches on the back. They were extremely friendly to us children. We had to walk two miles to school in Dovenby and two miles home and thought nothing of it. At first my mother had to make sandwiches for 26 children to take each day but later school dinners were provided. They were dreadful and we were not allowed to leave anything on the plate. The vegetable was often boiled nettles which were very dark green and very strong.

The schoolaster and his wife. Mr and Mrs Haston had previously retired but were brought back. The village school had to cope with the addition of 26 children. Our lessons consided of arithmetic, war geography and singing. Nothing else at all. The Haston's son was killed.

In 1944 we moved once again to Rock Farry, near Birkenhead. By now there were no airraids. My most overpowering memory of VE Day was the noise. Everyone made as much noise as possible and I recall standing on top of the large air-raid shelter ringing a bell. Everyone was happy.

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