大象传媒

I was seven years old on 19th April 1939. I was in the last class of the infant's section of Old Palace School, St Leonards Street, Bow. In September 1939, the whole school were taken on a journey, that was to take all day and the start of a story that was to last a lot longer. We had become "Evacuees".
What frame of mind was I in? I have no recollection, just pictures in my memories of lining up in the school playground. We all had our gas mask boxes hanging around our necks, a label with our name, address and what school we had come with, our little bundle of clothes, (mine was a small kit bag that my mother had made for me). A bag of food for the day, some children even had their teddies. We all marched out of the school playground, one class behind the other, onto St Leonards Street and stopped along the pavement edge. The traffic was stopped and at the sound of a whistle we all crossed the road. Mums and Dads had not been allowed to see us off. We had had to say our "goodbyes" when we had left for school that morning. It did not stop them standing along the road to wave to us.
I cannot remember much about the journey other than a few children being sick other because it was such along underground train ride - I believe the whole system had been taken over to transporting children out of the big cities.
After more traveling, we arrived at Oxford.
My parents would come to Oxford by coach to see me, this meant I would walk back into the Town Centre which was about 1/2 mile to meet the coach. I cannot remember how I knew they were coming. Then after spending a day with me, I would walk back into the town to wave them off. What frame of mind I must have been in I can only imagine as I walked back to Bartlemas Road crying all the way. I can remember trying to kill myself with a dinner knife, (perhaps I knew it would be too blunt. But it was a measure of the state I was getting into.This meant that my parents had to stop coming to see me.
Did being an evacuee have any effect on me? There is no one alive now that can answer that question. My mother said she would never do it again. It did break the love bond between me and my parents, although I didnt realise it at the time. The loneliness of a "lost child" when you are hurting mentally or in physical pain, who can find no-one to turn to is very real. Now I have become an adult and have a problem, hurt myself, "getting into trouble", I have to sort it out myself. I am incapable of asking for help. I have been led to believe this is synonymous with what went before. At an ealy age I learnt to take myself to the doctors or visit the clinic. I would do it myself, I knew no different.
I think it made me a much better father to my own two children. I would never let them down, I would be there all the time for them, if I thought they were going into a situation they were not happy with, I would try to be there. When I came home from late-shift I would have to wake them up, to tell them Dad was home. It was my way of trying to reassure them, Foolish I know. I did not want them to suffer as I did.(This little bit really hurts me ).
This story was submitted to the People's War site by a volunteer from London on behalf of Robert Wheatley with his permission. Robert Wheatley fully understands the site'r terms and conditions.

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