大象传媒

Important looking people met us at the entrance to the shelter: Some dressed in uniforms, others in normal attire. Soon we were being led through the passageways deep inside the hill. I remember the lighting was rather dim but I did notice lots of areas were other families were being fed, clothed or being checked over by more people wearing long white coats. Finally we arrived at the sleeping area. Three tier bunks were fixed solidly to the walls on both sides of the passage. Mum was allotted four bunks only which meant I doubled up with brother Tom; while June and Dorothy shared as well. First thing we all did was to tumble into the bunks and crash out for hours. Over the next few days, the peace and quiet of the shelter did wonders for our constitution. Dad went to work in special buses provided while mum supplied the authorities with all the relevant information needed to establish what might be done with us in the near future.
We soon familiarised ourselves with all the amenities available and even began making friends with other children. Of course, the bombing raids still continued at night but we neither heard or saw anything of them inside that great fortress. Notice boards informed inmates of areas in the city badly blitzed and it was no surprise to mum when her sister Elizabeth and her three daughters Jean, Sheila and baby Maureen landed at Portsdown with us. Uncle Tom, a gasworks employee like dad, went to work and returned in the evening. They fed us three meals a day and apart from the canteen, washrooms and play areas, there was also a surgery for minor ills and chills.
During the three weeks spent in the shelter, mum became worried when the authorities told her that because of its size the family might have to be split up so it was easier for them to placed when eventually evacuated from the shelter On hearing this, Mum鈥檚 strength of character shone through. She categorically refused to accept any breaking up of the family and would rather return to the city with her brood and face the elements. The powers of the day waived the proposal and mum won the day. Soon after, dozens of homeless families were packed off to Petersfield, a quaint market town, during the second week of February 1941.
Buses were used to take everyone to Petersfield. It was therefore quite surprising when reaching our pre-arranged destination, to find that very little had been put into place at the old Workhouse building in Love Lane. Tempers and nerves became frayed as P.U.D.C. officials and WVS (womens voluntary service) tried desperately hard to fit a gallon into a pint pot, and found they couldn鈥檛. They did have a hot meal prepared for us which was gratefully accepted and after registering the family鈥檚 credentials we were off trekking again like nomads from afar. Two hundred yards around the corner we walked with our few belongings tucked under our arms and mum still pushing her pram with young William in it. We arrived at the Congregational Church in College Street mid afternoon.
There the Reverend WA. Samuel met the families, apologising for the big foul up but assured us all we would be safe sleeping in the church. I might add it was utterly scary for the children and some of the parents weren鈥檛 too keen at first. Very little sleep was had by anyone except possibly the very young babies. And then on the second and last night, some prankster began playing the organ in the early hours of the morning. As you can imagine, it fair put the wind up most people to the effect that they would rather sleep in the fields at Love Lane than spend one more night in that church. I would dearly have loved a recording pf comments made by the sleeping evacuees after being woken up by that organ. Of course it wouldn鈥檛 be printable.
Eventually all the families did settle into a communal way of living at the Workhouse building. Rooms were allotted on size of families for sleeping. Dining hall, bathroom and dayrooms were all shared. For the majority of children, the chance to roam green fields, climb trees and to have space to play in was all we ever wanted. It was like being young horses let loose for the first time in a new paddock. We skipped we shouted, we laughed until dusk playing till our hearts were content in the knowledge that all was safe and well now with life. The little railway line from Petersfield to Midhurst ran directly past the old Workhouse which meant crossing an unmanned footwalk to reach the fields. There were many hairy moments when children unaware of the dangers were actually playing on the line when trains were approaching. However, by the grace of god or whatever, no fatalities occurred. Relatives from Portsmouth did visit us from time to time; when over a strong brew of tea, mum could be brought up to date with news of how the rest of her family were coping in war torn Portsmouth.
Poor dad didn鈥檛 know which day it was half the time. Making regular train journeys to and from the dockyard fair wore him out at times but it was good to have him home each evening even for just a few hours. One day in April, all the parents were called to a meeting in the dining hall where a representative of the local housing council informed them that plans to build temporary hutments on farmland in and around Petersfleld was being diligently pursued. If and when sanction was forthcoming from the government鈥檚 Public Health Department, the programme would start immediately. However, it was stated these hutments would only be habitable for the duration of the war.
Although not totally pleased with the offering proposed, parents generally felt that it would give them an opportunity to put down a few shallow roots, They may even have time to begin building a home again. A farmer at Weston, a little hamlet one and half miles south of Petersfield, had already received permission to build hop pickers hutments on his farmland some months before, and now had them almost completed. Gentleman as he was, farmer Chris Seward, as he was known by all, invited evacuee families living in Petersfield or anywhere else to come and pick his hops in the coming September. Not only would they e welcomed and well paid but also, would be allowed to take up residence in the hutments as soon as desired. This humane gesture was very much appreciated by the evacuees, seeing Mr Seaward as a man they could do business with. All but a few families left the Workhouse, heading for a new beginning at Weston, albeit temporary of course.

Entered by Petersfield Library

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