大象传媒

My Spell of Evacuation

Evacuation after the Horse had bolted, following many nights in the Anderson shelter at Lydney road, Southmead Bristol 1940 to 1941.

The Air Raid Sirens

It was Good Friday night, April 11th, 1941. Mother was shaking me, 鈥淐ome on,鈥� she said鈥�, 鈥淭he siren鈥檚 gone. Down to the shelter鈥�. It was just before 10pm and I could not have been in bed for a very long. This had been a regular occurrence during the last few months. Down the garden we trundled 鈥� Mother, me and brothers George (15) and Roy (13), I was the youngest aged 11. We all had our allocated carrying duties, me with a few pillows, bothers with blankets and Mother following on with a box with all the important papers such as ration books, insurance policies, a few old photos, birth and marriage certificates and anything important that she could think of. The reason for the above was that during air raids there was no guarantee that the house would survive the night. Father was on nights at the aeroplane works at Patchway.

The Anderson Shelter

The Anderson shelter consisted of six pieces of very heavy gauge corrugated iron with each sheet about six feet tall and curving in at the top to form a tunnel shape. These were bolted together at the top with half inch bolts and a front and back of the same material added. A front entrance consisted of a two feet by three feet gap. The whole lot was buried, for about half its height, in the ground and the earth extracted from the hole was placed on the top of the shelter to protect it from bomb splinters. It was the householder鈥檚 responsibility to build a blast wall to cover the entrance. Ours consisted of a big box shape, some two feet thick four feet wide and six feet high, also filled with earth from the garden.

The inside measurement of the shelter was six feet by four feet six inches so you can tell that it was a bit of a squeeze. One of the early faults with this type of shelter was that when it rained it would partly fill with water so quite a few times I had to bail it out with a bucket. The council overcame this problem by concreting a three inch shelf to the inside halfway up to ground level. This proved invaluable as a six feet by two feet frame was issued with wire mesh to make a bed frame. This rested on the concrete ledge with a bed made up, which it was sufficient for us boys to try and get some sleep. Mother had an old armchair.

This particular Good Friday night turned out to be one of the heaviest raids that we had up to then, I do not think that any area of Bristol escaped that night. It was reported that one hundred and eighty had been killed and one hundred and forty six seriously injured with two hundred and thirty six slight injured.

Life in the shelter was no picnic especially in the winter when it was damp and cold. We used to wrap up in overcoats and lighting was by candle but there was no form of heating. I think that all the bodies in a confined space kept us a bit warmer.

The all clear siren sounded at about 4am so it was back to bed again, no school this time as it was the Easter holidays. During the night we would constantly hear bombs whistling overhead and land with a crunch, shaking the ground. The noisiest thing, that frightened us the most, was the mobile Bofors gun that seemed to stop up the street and let off a few rounds. I think the object was to keep them on the move so that they would not be on a fixed site that could be put out of action by the bombing.

I cannot say that we missed much schooling although, at times, we must have looked half asleep. Discipline was stricter then so we were expected to be alert at all times.

When the war started in September 1939, the Bristol area was deemed to be safe so no form of evacuation of the children was seen to be necessary. The authorities had hundreds of children from the London area billeted in the villages around the area. This was soon to change. Mother was sent a note from school saying that I was on the list for evacuation but my two brothers, not being in the same age group, would not be required to go. I suppose it was like waiting for your conscription call-up papers (this was another phase of my life I had to go through at eighteen years old).

Evacuation from Stapleton Road Station, Bristol

My turn came in early May 1941. Off to school I went with a pillow case with few belongings; my gas mask and a bag with cucumber sandwiches supposed to be for our dinner. On arrival at school we were issued with a big label to tie around our necks for identification purposed. We were now truly evacuees. There seemed to be hundreds there and quite a lot of mums with young children. Double decker buses were lined up along the street, one of which I eventually boarded. None of us had a clue where we would land up. With another few bus loads, I was transported to Stapleton Road Station, in Bristol to start my mystery journey. There were no mums or dads to see us off but I cannot remember any kids crying at all, it was one big adventure.

Well, the farthest I had been on a train before was from Horfield Halt to Severn Beach, a journey of about twenty minutes costing 1s1d (6p). For loads of the kids it could possibly have been their first train ride. Eventually, we were fully loaded and away. (Nowadays, as I go through Stapleton Road Station on the train, my memory takes me back to see hundred of kids swarming on the platform, which is still there, although now it is deserted).

We all had visions of travelling to Wales or up North somewhere but we soon had some idea as we travelled south through Bristol, making our first stop at Bridgwater where a couple of carriages emptied. We then went along the Minehead line stopping at various stations to disgorge a load of excited kids. Our turn was to come when we got to Williton Station which is about seventeen miles from Bridgwater and six miles from Minehead.

Allocation of our billets

When we arrived at our destination, there were charabancs outside the station waiting to transport us to the various villages. Our was to take us to Watchet where we were duly set down at the local school awaiting allocation to various houses. During the journey I had palled up with Barry Redwood. It was now late afternoon. It did not appear that any child was given a specific person to go with as the local residents just came in and selected whoever they took a fancy to. Anyway Barry Redwood and I were the last two left, nobody seemed to want us so by then we were really down in the dumps.

Eventually a lady came in with two little children in a pram and Barry was whisked away with her. Nobody was left for me, so out of the goodness of his heart, Mr Young, the headmaster of the school decided he would take me until other arrangements could be made for a permanent place for me. Mr Young, his wife and two children lived in a big house on the main road out of the town. His children were an eleven year old boy and a fourteen year old girl. They went to Minehead Grammar school.

The first thing that happened at Mr Young鈥檚 was that I was given a room of my own. This was unheard of at home, as I had always slept in with brother Roy. Being the headmaster鈥檚 house, it was quite posh. You even had to wash your hands before meals and Mr Young would say grace at the main meal of the evening. It was all very strange to me and one thing I was never going to get used to was going to bed at 7pm as, back at home I was lucky to get to bed at all if there was a raid on. There was also church three times on a Sunday with the family.

My friend Barry landed up quite the opposite. The lady he was billeted with was on her own with the kids, we presumed that her husband was away in the army but we never did find out. He could do just what he pleased and quite a few times he baby-sat while his good lady went out.

Our School Life

Our schooling was most haphazard. A Mr and Mrs Hayward, who had come down from Bristol, were our teachers. Our school was the Conservative clubroom on the esplanade. They must have had a mammoth task. Our classroom was made up of card tables and a large table tennis table. Can you imagine what it was like with about a dozen of us sat around this table tennis table and four to a card table. I think that there were about twenty five of us, ranging from about seven years old to nearly fourteen so the Hayward鈥檚 had their work cut out trying to drum some sense into us.

Air Raids

After I had been at the headmaster鈥檚 house for about a week, the siren sounded for an air raid. As it did not go off normally in Watchet, the headmaster insisted that we all take shelter under the stairs. Being in the early hours of the morning, we were all half asleep. It was like a little room under the stairs. So with a few chairs to sit on, we waited with great expectation for something to happen. Sure enough, after a time, there was a whistle of a bomb coming down but no thud or shake this time.

This started the headmaster鈥檚 children screaming. I don鈥檛 think the headmaster or his wife liked this as they, apparently, had not experience an air raid before and it seemed that no air rained shelters had been provided. Well, with me being a veteran of the Bristol air raids, I just sat there and wondered what all the fuss was about. After a short time the all clear sounded and back to bed we went. It turned out to be an odd raider just disposing of his bombs which had landed in the sea. Perhaps they were after the port, who knows, it did have a thriving coal and timber business.

I move to a new billet and more freedom

After about two weeks I moved to another billet and I cannot say that I was not sorry as, although they treated me very kindly, their middle class background was not the same as I was used to. Now at sixty nine, I have a different view of the social classes. After saying goodbye to the headmaster and his family, I was taken to stay with a Mr and Mrs Stacey, the village postman and his wife. They had no children and lived on a small council estate on the edge of town. This was more what I was used to. I had much more freedom and no more church on Sunday, although the Young鈥檚 expected me to I never did. I could even go to the pictures which were situated at the end of the esplanade. I could go around to my pal鈥檚 billet on an evening and get back at about 10pm. Benny was usually baby-sitting. I used to often wonder why the postman would give me a couple of shillings to go out. Never mind it was very acceptable.

Homesickness and Loneliness

There were no visits from Mum or Dad but plenty of letters and the occasional parcel with some goodies in and perhaps a postal order for 5 shillings (25p). I used to be a loner mostly going out on my own over to the dock area. There seemed to be no security and I often thought that the Germans could land there easily. No doubt there were checks that I could not see. I used to talk to the sailors, quite a few of whom were over from Cardiff with a cargo of coal. I used to think, 鈥淪hall I stow away?鈥� At least Cardiff was near Bristol.

There was a gun site at Donniford a couple of miles from Watchet and it seemed that every day they were shooting at something. Eventually I discovered that they were shooting at a big red drogue being towed behind an aeroplane out in the channel. There was quite a distance between the aeroplane and the target for obvious reasons. They must have made a hit now and again as big pieces of red canvas were washed up on the shore now and again.

I was getting really homesick by now. This country life was not for me, so every time I wrote home I would say, 鈥淐ome and get me鈥�. Eventually, after a few months Mother relented and back home I went. Thus ended my spell of evacuation, although quite a few kids stayed until the end of the war, and later obtained jobs and stayed on. Oh Home sweet Home!

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