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This story was submitted to the Peoples War site by Anastasia Travers from CSV Action Desk on behalf of Colleen Carr and has been added to the site with her permission. Colleen Carr fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

In June 1940 my mom had a telegram to say my dad was missing, killed in action. She decided to have me and my sister evacuated so we congregated in the school building with a little brown bag and our gas masks ready to go on a train journey. I had been on a coach with my parents on a holiday to Ryhl in 1938 but had never been on a train before. We arrived in Nottingham and were taken to a place called Skebay near Mansfield. We were paraded round all of the roads to see who would take us in. I remember going to a house and having to leave my sister behind because the lady only wanted 1 child. My mom had strictly said whatever happens to stay together, but we had no choice. I had settled down quite well because this lady had a small boy about my age and he had a big rocking horse which I instantly loved.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door and the man who paraded us around told me that my sister was stressed and that the lady she was staying with said she wouldn’t mind having 2 children so I got to be with my sister. The lady was in her sixties and very strict, she never let us go out to play or have friends round. When we told her we were Catholics she said ‘well if you are to remain in my house you will be a Methodist and like it’. So overnight we became Methodists. On Sunday we had to go to church 3 times a day, we eventually got used to it in the end and even enjoyed it. We were never allowed to play with toys on Sunday so we read the bible and at that time I could barley read so it was all double dutch to me!

We attended the village school but could only go for half a day because there was not enough room for us all. The teachers gave us homework but our foster mother wouldn’t let us do it. She taught us how to make beds, sew and knit (all skills that have come in useful in my later years). Mom used to come once a month, but she couldn’t afford to come too often as she got herself a job reading electric meters. By now it was confirmed that dad had been killed on June 17th, he was coming home on leave on a ship called the Lancastria and the Germans put bombs down the funnel.

After we had been evacuated for three years our foster mother died from a sudden illness, our foster farther was a lovely man but we returned home. It seemed strange at first and we had to get used to a different world, mom was lovely but she didn’t know us and she was still working so all of a sudden we went from a sheltered village life to being the latchkey kids. Mom started to worry so she sent us to a boarding school called Pipewood in Rugeley. This again was different, we had no home life, no cuddles. We were there for about 18 months before we were sent home because the war was coming to an end. Once home we were the only house that could not chalk up ‘welcome home dad’ on our wall.

My mom has passed away now but I often think what a sad life she must have had for all those years. Me and my sister tried to make it up to her when we got older but we could never replace our childhood or her wife and motherhood.

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