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It was only after the severe Blitz on Plymouth that the authorities in London finally gave their permission for Plymouth schoolchildren to be evacuated, and so it was on May 5th 1941 that I was taken by my mother to Plymouth North Road Railway Station, where are assembly area was designated.

There seemed to be tremendous activity outside the station, but events to my young mind, appeared to be very organised. Many teachers from various Plymouth Schools, plus voluntary workers, helped to sort out the children, and we were given our labels to wear around our necks with all the relevant details of our name, address, school etc.

At this stage of the proceedings I was grouped with the children from my own Laira Green Primary School. Mummies and daddies were not allowed onto the railway platform, and so farewells were said outside the station. We were led away, hand in hand, together with our gas mask and small suitcase, plus maybe a loved teddy bear, a doll or a toy. I expect it was thought best that parents did not accompany their children to the train, because in fact they seemed more tearful than their little ones. I just remember being terribly excited about the journey, as it seemed then just like a holiday. Before I left my mother, a lady came up to us with her two very young children, and she seemed quite worried. She asked if I could look after them on the train, and try to ensure they were not separated. The little girl was probably about four, and her brother about three years old. I did feel so very grown up at the age of only eight to be given this responsibility. I did keep them with me right through the journey into Cornwall, and later in the afternoon when we were at the ‘selection and collection’ point, when a lady only wanted to take me on my own, did I ask for them to be kept together, and I was assured that they would be. I did not see these children again, although many of the Laira children were evacuated in my village, and it was comforting for us to be together, especially for our schooling.

The long train eventually moved off. The train whistle blew, the guard waved his green flag, and we were able to hang out the windows to frantically wave and blow kisses to our parents, who were huddled behind the station railings. (I think these railing were later taken for the war effort to make into shells and whatever)!

I think there was possibly one teacher for each compartment, but not necessarily one from your own school. My particular teacher was called Miss Retallick, who I believe was from Hyde Park Junior School. As I attended Laira Green, I didn’t know her, but she was to become my teacher right through my evacuation, and was billeted in my own village in a pretty bungalow (with all mod cons, I expect). I only remember her as being a very kind and caring teacher.

We were told to behave ourselves on the train, and behave we did. There were possibly about twelve children in our compartment, varying in age from perhaps three years old to eleven years, en route to Cornwall. School children commenced school at three years old and were able to have an afternoon nap at school. We had been told NOT to bring any food with us, as this would be provided by the wonderful WRVS.

We were on our way to Cornwall and soon we were passing over the Tamar Bridge. Our first stop was at Liskeard, where again voluntary WRVS helpers were on hand to dole out refreshments to us. We were at this stage not allowed off the train, and it was only later, when we arrived at Camborne, that we got off the train and were told to walk in single file across the road to a building which, I do believe, was then the Camborne Technical College. We were led into classrooms and given our lunch and a drink, again with the aid of WRVS workers.

After being ‘fed and watered’ came the next stage of our journey. In single file we marched outside the college where many old-fashioned motor coaches were in line, and it very much depended upon which coach you joined, as to where you ended up being evacuated, as each coach I think was destined for a different village. My coach headed off to a hamlet called Carnkie, somewhere in the middle of nowhere! We were taken inside a very tiny school with only about two classrooms. This school was an ominous building called Halwin. It is still there today, and I recently visited it. We were told to sit at the double desks and again behave. I was quite apprehensive at this stage, but still kept the little ones with me.

Again many helpers were on hand, and quite a few ladies were ushered into the front of the classroom to take the evacuees into their care. Eventually, a lady came up to me and asked if I was called Elsie, and was I eight years old. She was called Mrs Pascoe (later Aunty Em). She obviously had been informed that I was on my own (I had no brothers or sisters) and she asked me if I would like to go with her to her home, and that she had a little girl of her own called June, who was also eight. I was told that the little children who were in my care would be going to another home, and that they would definitely be kept together. A taxi journey then took us to Mrs Pascoe’s house, again what seemed to me to be miles from civilisation, somewhere in Cornwall.

We travelled through countryside of fields and animals, and being a ‘city’ girl from Plymouth, this landscape was quite strange and bewildering. I felt for the first time since leaving my mummy quite scared and lonely. We eventually arrived in a village called Edgcumb, which is a hamlet on the main road approximately halfway between Helston and Penryn. In fact the address was no1 Retanna, Halfway House, near Penryn. The Pascoe’s house was semi-detached and constructed of Cornish granite. In the adjoining house lived Mrs Pascoe’s mother and unmarried sister, who also took in two evacuees from Plymouth who were sisters, Margaret and Shirley.

Our parents had probably been issued with details setting out the evacuation regulation items we had to take with us. My extra item was definitely my teddy bear. I remember vividly four of these items. One was, of course, our gas mask, which went everywhere with us. The others were the regulation sized suitcase, our ration book and a pre-stamped postcard which had been formulated the previous day at school for our foster parents to fill in and send back to Plymouth the same day, to let our parents know of our whereabouts. The ration book was quite essential for Mrs Pascoe to register me with her shops in Cornwall.

Mrs Pascoe helped me sort out my belongings into my bedroom wardrobe, and I placed my teddy bear on the bed. I was to have the little box room all to myself, and certainly separate from June. My suitcase contained the regulation equipment for a girl. This was; one vest or combination, one pair of knickers, one bodice, one petticoat, two pairs of stockings, gym slip, blouse, hat, coat, cardigan, handkerchiefs and nightclothes, plus a comb and brush, toothpaste, slippers, towel, soap and facecloth.

By this time it was mid afternoon, and I was told that June would soon arrive home from school. Every day on getting home from school, June’s first job, in all weathers, was to walk to the pump to fetch the water, and so it was that I went with June on the first of numerous trips to fetch the water from the well armed with buckets and jugs of various sizes. (This was a journey of about a quarter of a mile, undertaken every morning before school, and again in the evening after school). I was amazed to find out that the house had neither water, gas nor electricity installed. The ‘loo’ was in the corner of the garden, and so I was given my own torch for night use. This was also scary. I was shown how to use the small oil lamp in my bedroom, and given a jug of water, a bowl and a toothbrush mug. A small chamber pot was inside a cupboard for my own use, which I had to empty and clean each morning. This was absolutely awful, after living in a house in Plymouth with all modern conveniences. I felt quite far from civilisation, as I could now only see fields from my bedroom window, with cows, pigs and sheep. (There was a farm each side of the house, and in every direction there were fields of animals). I was simply terrified of the bulls and pigs, and would not go anywhere near them. There were no streets to play-in, no lamp-posts to swing on, and by now I was missing my own friends. It was all lonely and scary. The Pascoe’s were very kind to me at this point, especially June, who did not mind sharing her toys and games with me.

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