大象传媒

WW2 Experiences of an Evacuee Chapter 1
By Len Marsh

Chapter 1

In March 1939 my Dad gave up his window cleaning job to join the Royal Navy by September war was declared against Germany. I had just had my sixth birthday. Mum, Dad and I lived in a council house in Stanfield Road, Dagenham, Essex. This was a rented terrace house in a large estate of similar houses. Friends from where we used to live in Deptford, London including Uncle Fred and Aunts Violet and Hilda came to visit from time to time.
Nothing appeared to happen for a while except the news on the radio got more exciting.. People were calling it the phoney war. Then the air raids started. Barrage balloons dotted the sky to prevent aircraft from flying low over the buildings. Anyone not already called up for active service joined various civil defence organisations, such as the Air Raid Wardens (A.R.P.s). The usual sequence for an air raid was first the sirens sounded a warning of approaching aircraft, then the drone of approaching planes, bombs could be heared exploding and enemy planes firing their machine guns at the streets. The local anti-aircraft (Ack-Ack) guns would open up firing and British fighter planes could be seen attacking enemy planes. Finally, the enemy planes turned back and the sirens sounded the 'All-Clear'. On one occasion, I started walking home from a friend鈥檚 house when an air raid warning sounded, almost at once and very close an enemy plane started firing his machine gun. At the time I was in a passage way lined either side by privet hedges, I dived into one of the hedges to give me as much cover as possible. After a few minutes when all was quiet I untangled myself from the hedge and ran home.
The air raids could occur at anytime, during daytime attacks I watched aircraft firing at each other, in what were called 'Dog-Fights', with the neighbours children. The planes twisted and turned around in the sky. If a plane was hit, smoke billowed out as it crashed to the ground, the pilot and crew would bail out using parachutes. To us it was like a huge game. We cheered when an enemy plane was hit, but dejected when one of our planes was hit. The bombs missed our school though and it stayed open, much to the gloom of the children.
To protect the inhabitants from bombs and falling debris each house, with adequate size garden, had an Anderson air raid shelter built in it. The design was named after a man in charge of the evacuation that had started earlier in the year. The Anderson was made of corrugated steel sheets of metal curved to form an arch buried in the ground, with about 2 or 3 feet of soil covered over the top. Local people thought it was safer than the brick and concrete shelters built for those living in flats or those with insufficient space in their gardens for the Anderson.
Our shelter had steps leading down to the opening and two beds inside. I played games with the neighbours children in it until a door with a lock was fitted, it was then only used during air raids.
Shrapnel from the bombs was scattered over gardens and streets during an air raid and was collected as souvenirs by the children. I once watched one lad a few yards away, sit on the kerb at the side of the road, place an unexploded incendiary bomb between his knees and hammer it with a stone to try to take the fin off. Luckily for both of us it didn't explode. At the time we didn鈥檛 consider the danger we were exposed to, but enjoyed ourselves playing games with other children.
After a time, most of the children in the area were evacuated to safer parts. Evacuation during the Second World War was the largest migration of people in British history. It wasn't compulsory, but relied on persuading families to send their most vulnerable members away voluntarily. Board and lodgings for each child was about six shillings (30p) a week, which was paid by the Government or the parents, depending upon their income. Some people didn't move at all, others were evacuated to one place and stayed till after the war and yet others stayed away for a few months or years, returned home and then went away again. About 3 million people, mostly children, were moved from large cities to rural areas or to various places overseas over the period of the war from 1939 to 1945. My experiences were not unique, but just a glimpse back in time to what happened to me.
By 1940 Germany had advanced into Holland, Belgium and Northern France. The air raids became more frequent and intense with talk now of invasion. The Battle of Britain had begun.
At the end of 1940, when I was about seven, I joined other children still remaining at our school and evacuated to Starcross, Devon. We went by train with our teachers in groups of about forty. We each had a gas mask, packed lunch and suitcase. Labels with our personal details were tied around our necks and suitcase. We were all excited to be on our first long train journey. On arriving at Starcross we were escorted by our teachers to the local school hall. Where we met a group of intended foster parents, who selected the children they would look after. I went with another evacuee, a lad who was about my age but about half my size, with a couple that worked in the local psychiatric hospital. Their home was in a row of terrace houses next to the entrance to the hospital.
The grounds of the hospital seemed vast open spaces after our council estate. The two of us became pals and we played on the hospital's sports fields and got on well with the staff and patients. They had a very good football team, who we cheered on when they played against visiting teams. However, it was quieter than Dagenham and to liven up our routine we enjoyed having adventures. In one incident my pal and I decided to go for a stroll along the shore at the mouth of the River Exe. We searched for 'treasure' brought in by the tide, as we had several times before. This usually meant finding boxes of goods, such as dried fruit, probably swept or thrown overboard from passing ships. We were so engrossed exploring around the rock pools we forgot about the tide coming in. By the time we noticed, the sea level had risen to cut us off from the entrance ramp, which passed under a railway embankment. Fortunately, we were rescued, but soaking wet. Our foster parents weren't pleased with our exploits, but relieved we were safe.

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