大象传媒

My Brooks family lived at 18 The Green, East Acton, West London. My Mum Vi/鈥橠oll鈥� (36), baby sister, Jasmine (under 1) and me, Brian, (5). My older sister, Beryl (10) was evacuated with John Perryn School. Dad, Sergeant Harry Brooks (37), was in the Army on Searchlights, Home Defence.

The bombing was bad and Mum was very worried, so she decided that we would evacuate ourselves. I think this was the first time that we went to Wales (either late 1940 or early 1941). We were going to Mum鈥檚 sister, Aunty Elsie, who lived in a small place called Llanelli near Swansea. She also had a new baby called Tommy. Mum had written to ask if it was alright for us to go but no reply came. She decided to go but was worried about trying to travel with a baby and me and luggage and a pram. I remember Gran (her mother, 鈥楾illy鈥� Ames) saying 鈥淵ou go, you鈥檒l be alright, they鈥檒l be plenty of people to help.鈥� No there wasn鈥檛.

At the train station it was very busy. Finally, having got the pram into the Guards Van, we were squashed into a compartment with people standing, and the corridor full up as well. Then the train was off. As it got dark the blinds had to be kept down because of the 鈥榖lackout鈥� rules. There was one small blue light inside which made everyone look very strange.

People couldn鈥檛 tell what the stations were, and there was a lot of shouting 鈥淲here are we?鈥� from passengers every time we stopped. Then more people would try to get on. The train stopped and started lots of times, sometimes, I think, to let other trains go by. One stop was such a long time that a soldier opened the door and climbed down to walk to the engine and find out what was happening. When he was outside only his head showed, I was surprised that the train was so high up.

As the corridor was so crowded I had to wee out the door. I hoped no Jerry parachuting nun spies were looking! I was probably asleep when we finally got to Llanelli, hours later that night. Mum had to manage on her own, getting the pram, case and us out of the station. But Aunty Elsie had other family already staying with her, I think it was Aunty Eva (Uncle Bill鈥檚 wife) and their sons Norman and baby Michael.

The next day the Billeting Officer put us with a lady who didn鈥檛 want us and wouldn鈥檛 have us in the house. We were put in a 鈥榞arden room鈥� with muddy brick floor and double doors that opened out directly onto the back garden. In it were deck chairs, lawnmower, spades, and forks and flowerpots. The 鈥榖ack door鈥� of the house was kept locked all the time. Mum had to knock on the door and wait for permission to go to the lavatory or heat the baby鈥檚 bottle. We had one canvas camping bed and candles. I think that was a very bad time for her.

Mum told the Billeting Officer that my Dad was serving his country in the Army and it was disgusting that his wife and children were stuck in a garden shed (and much more that I didn鈥檛 quite understand, of course!). I asked the Billeting Officer if the lady was a Jerry, which he didn鈥檛 like! We left the house without a word to the nasty lady who hid indoors. We were moved to another house where we had a proper bedroom. If we weren鈥檛 out at Aunty Elsie鈥檚 house we stayed in the room to not disturb the people too much. I wanted to chalk a swastika by the nasty lady鈥檚 gate. I also learned that she wasn鈥檛 the only one.

Aunty Elsie had two rooms and a small box room (in a large double-fronted house called 鈥楤ronwydd鈥� at Llwynhendy). The rest of the rooms were all occupied by local women who made no secret of their hatred of the English, and picked endless rows with her and were hostile to us evacuee relatives. Although she had a share of a kitchen she usually cooked on a coal range in one room, it was probably easier and avoided the others.

The local shop people made things unpleasant, as well. Mum was used to our shops where you queued up and were served quickly in turn. In these shops they gossiped with the local customers for ages and ages while you waited, and then served another local who came in after you! That led to a few sharp words (which probably meant that you waited even longer next time!).

One time, when Jasmine was crying for her feed, Mum just went behind the counter and got the tins she needed. The woman was shocked 鈥淲hat are you doing, I鈥檒l have the police on you!鈥� Mum said 鈥淵ou鈥檙e obviously very busy so I鈥檓 helping you to serve me so I can feed baby 鈥� that鈥檚 what I鈥檒l tell the police 鈥� and the Billeting Officer!鈥�

So much for the Home Front wartime spirit and everyone helping each other! It wasn鈥檛 long before we were back home in East Acton. It was nice to see our house still in one piece, Mr Cuddiford (our ARP Warden) had kept an eye on it. Nice to see our shelter, too, I鈥檇 missed it.

Postscript: Although very young, my first experience of prejudice and (apart from the anonymous German bombers) hostility at first hand was a shock. I can still remember the feelings of being an unwelcome outsider with a baby and toddler reflected in my mother鈥檚 grim face. Not knowing if our home was in ruins, hours spent on a packed train only to be stuck in a garden shed and ignored or abused was a very low point for her.

Thinking we were all one country I knew nothing of regional differences and frictions. Of course, it must be annoying to have a visit from a Town Hall official with the power to put 鈥榝oreign鈥� lodgers in your home, even with the official payment. How would we react? I鈥檝e also since learned that past labour unrest was dealt with harshly, and the local mining community probably had good reason to dislike Parliament in London during the 鈥�30s Depression.

I suppose the vulnerable evacuee/refugee, even a small woman with youngsters, becomes an easy target for frustration and ignorant bullying. I鈥檓 still reminded of it when constantly seeing the many refugees on the television news.

That first visit proved to be an exception. I think we went to Llanelli another three times and our subsequent visits were very much friendlier, I remember them as happy times in the countryside. I was welcomed by the teacher at the local school and really made to feel 鈥榓t home鈥�. Of course, on the first day I tripped over on their rocky path and broke my glasses, which spent much of their life repaired with sticking plaster.

The general schoolwork curriculum was slightly behind John Perryn鈥檚, but I kept that to myself and stayed level with them. Sometimes I pretended not to know something as I didn鈥檛 want to be thought a 鈥楲ondoner show-off鈥�. The boys all wanted to know about the Blitz and I admit to a little exaggeration for dramatic effect.

I learned to pronounce the name 鈥楾hlann-eth-lee鈥� not 鈥楲ann-ell-ee鈥�. My Welsh relatives, including Aunt Elsie, now 91, live in Swansea.

Revised extracts from 鈥楢 Sheltered Childhood ~ Wartime Family Memories of an East Acton Child鈥�

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