大象传媒

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WW2 - Evacuation - A Novel Aspect:

In 1938 at the age of eleven, I was admitted to John Watson's School, a small non-fee-paying co-educational boarding school in Edinburgh of about 120 pupils with roughly equal numbers of boys and girls. Evacuation of children during WW2 was a major social upheaval with often unhappy consequences. If there were however some successful outcomes then I think the evacuation of our school from the institutional segregation of its Edinburgh buildings to a safe haven in the heart of rural Berwickshire was one of these.

The Headmaster was a Major John Oliver Naismith - a major from the first world war with a degree in Divinity! He had been Head since 1926 and had become something of an institution. He was always immaculately dressed and out of doors his bowler hat, tightly rolled umbrella and spats worn over shoes polished to Army standard set him apart from ordinary mortals.

In the first half of 1939 the routine of the school continued along its predictable path; but even we 12-year olds could not fail to notice that everyone was talking about the threat of war. The Major brought to his headmastership strict discipline and other army traits. He did not suffer fools gladly but with the hindsight of my 78 years I can recognise his administrative and teaching abilities. One could sense that if war came he would feel confident of meeting its every challenge. Indeed, as I learned later, as early as March that year he was involved in planning the evacuation of the school and the take-over by the army of the School buildings.

Although it was over sixty years ago the pupils in the senior years at least - both boys and girls - were well aware of "La Diff茅rence"! The teaching staff and all the others - matron, janitor and servants - made it a priority in life that contact between the two sexes should be avoided if at all possible. But true love will always find a way and clandestine meetings took place in the cellars at the rear of the ground floor or in the potting shed outside with a trusted friend keeping watch. In the main however the system ensured that budding romances were unlikely ever to reach any kind of fruition - in a nutshell, the girls might just as well have been in purdah.

But all that was about to change !

The safe haven chosen for the school was Marchmont House, a 'stately home' situated between Greenlaw and Duns in the heart of Berwickshire. The Marchmont estate at that time belonged to a Capt John Helias Finnie McEwen. The McEwen family would return to Marchmont whenever we 鈥榟orrors鈥� were on holiday. They also made their part of the House available to one of those mysterious departments which controlled the agents moving in and out of Europe and who used the facility to provide 鈥榬est and recreation' for these faceless men and women who would turn up and 鈥榬est鈥� for a couple of weeks, attended by some of the McEwen鈥檚 staff.

On Saturday, 2 September 1939, 23 adults and over l00 children arrived at Marchmont House. Some of the more senior boys and girls had been invited to forego some summer holidays in advance of that date, the boys going back and forth to Edinburgh on the back of a lorry to transport personal belongings, desks, beds, wardrobes, lockers, pianos, tables, chairs, forms, blackboards, sports equipment and all the paraphernalia necessary for running a boarding school and the girls helping with dispersal within the house. It was a feat of logistical planning and execution that I am sure could only have been carried out by the Major. That first night - the day before war was declared - we all had at least a mattress to sleep on, many of them laid out on floors but comfortable nonetheless.

The job of allocating space to the various school activities began - classrooms, dormitories, sports changing rooms, staff rooms and common rooms. The initial locations chosen for many items of furniture were later judged to be unsuitable and both boys and girls were continually being formed into removal gangs. The school remained in a state of flux for several weeks. School assembly was allocated the magnificent Music Room with its oak panelling, polished floor and organ. Sleeping space was at a premium and, to provide everyone with a place to lay their head at night, about two dozen pupils were boarded out for bed and breakfast in the cottages of the estate workers. This was a hit or a miss for those involved with some being welcomed with open arms and given slap-up breakfasts but others being grudgingly accommodated and sent off each morning with only tea and toast to keep them going.

As regards allocating space for school activities, the Major's first priority - and rightly so - was finding grounds for rugby and hockey pitches. The hockey pitch was quickly chosen - a field to the right of the drive about 200 yards from the house near a tennis court. It needed little more than marking out and the goal posts erected. The lawn to the left of the drive near the house would be developed for cricket but there was plenty of time for that. For rugby, the only possibility was a paddock set into the forest to the left of the main drive and further away from the house. The only trouble was its overgrown condition - old grass, nettles and thistles up to 3 or 4 feet tall. This of course was meat and drink to the Major and a task force was set up (excused from all other school duties - apart from lessons) equipped with scythes and rakes etc. commandeered from estate workers. The latter also had to provide a tractor, a cart and a driver to remove the debris. Within a week we had a rugby pitch, a bit rough and ready and roundly criticized by the first visiting team but, with regular mowing and the passage of time, it became quite respectable. Its drawback was the delays occasioned by enthusiastic kicks into touch. The ball would disappear into dark forest undergrowth. Having a spare ball was not the answer for, if the lost one was not found at once while we still had some idea of where it had gone, then it was probably lost for ever! It was satisfying to see in May 2003 that the level playing field we had carved out of the wilderness over 60 years previously was still being cared for 鈥� by a flock of sheep!

With our academic and sporting needs catered for, a routine could now be developed. But life was going to be very different from that at Edinburgh. The building at Edinburgh had housed what was virtually two separate schools - one for boys and one for girls. Now, with boys and girls dormitories scattered about all over the place, with a fifth of the pupils boarded out in cottages and with miles and miles of open country as a common playground for both sexes, attempts to keep us apart would have been fruitless - the girls came out of purdah and romances blossomed!

The war had started but, for its duration, the pupils of John Watson's School would luxuriate in a rural paradise. As well as romances, other joint activities blossomed too. The gravel in front of the main entrance was ideal for touch rugby and mixed sex team competitions became popular. We boys joined in hockey practice and, come the summer, some girls showed considerable aptitude at batting and bowling. Tombleson, the English teacher, promoted joint activity between boys and girls on winter Saturday evenings by organising 'Postman's Knock' games in the Senior Common Room. He imposed a strict limit of 2 minutes on the length of time any one couple could spend outside the door. We were sorry when he left in 1940! The music teacher played her part too by taking classes for ballroom dancing in the Music Room. The girls regretted our boyish efforts as we walked our partners stolidly down the room, about turned and walked them back again.

Food was a dominant thought in all our minds; so many middle-of-the-night raids on the kitchen to steal bread and jam were planned. Not all succeeded however. Too often the 鈥榢eep-awake鈥� chain was broken by someone falling asleep during his or her stint! The more resourceful - and hungrier -girls had an agreement with the kitchen maids to help with dish washing in exchange for illegal supplies of food. Those of us still with pocket money looked forward to Saturday mornings when we would cycle into Greenlaw to the small home-bakery.

Summer term activity - other than organised sport and classes - was limited to just enjoying the great outdoors. We went swimming in the Blackadder River just outside Greenlaw. We went for long cycle rides to other parts of Berwickshire. We walked round and round the estate until we knew every nook and cranny. On particularly hot days even some classes were taken outdoors in whatever breeze could be found under the shade of a tree. Much of the woodland was coniferous and many were the boys vs. girls battles pelting each other with pine cones 鈥� the summer equivalent of snowballing.

I think it was during that first autumn term at Marchmont that, for the duration of the war, one of the last rites of gracious country-house life took place - the autumn pheasant shoot - or was it grouse? Even by this time, the force of estate workers was badly depleted by the younger men going off to war. Where could the requisite number of beaters be found to guarantee a successful shoot? Each of the remaining estate workers were given 4 or 5 boys for their part of the woodland. On the day, the Berwickshire gentry assembled with their guns and dogs down the broad avenue and, starting from the road to Polwarth church, we beaters headed in a long line into the woods. It was the only circumstance that I have come across in my 78 years in which small boys were encouraged to thrash about with sticks and make as much noise as possible!

Nor did winter keep us indoors. I remember deep snow and hard frosts every year with hilarious snowball fights between girls and boys and the construction of gigantic snowmen allegedly caricaturing members of staff. There was a large pond in the valley leading to the Lady鈥檚 Walk which froze regularly providing those few pupils who owned ice skates with unlimited opportunities for bribery and corruption by lending them out. Extra pairs of socks - or sheer agony - could usually accommodate discrepancies in size between feet and boots. The favourite winter sport was sledging. Again, there were few proper sledges amongst us but the sport lends itself to improvisation and any stiff smooth object from a shovel to a piece of hardboard will take you down a snow-covered slope. The slope from the gamekeeper鈥檚 house down to the Lady鈥檚 Walk burn was a favourite spot.

At Marchmont, we saw neither sight nor sound of the war except on three occasions. One of the pupils had an elder brother in the RAF - a Spitfire pilot. One day, during a French class, he 鈥渂uzzed鈥� Marchmont House in his Spitfire roaring straight up the avenue from the dovecot, passing low over the house. He made two or three circuits in this way and we enjoyed a grandstand view as we crowded to the windows. French was forgotten for a while. The second occasion was when Clydebank was blitzed and we heard the bombers on their way there and back. Then, some months later, a lone German bomber 鈥� obviously unsure of his whereabouts 鈥� jettisoned a bomb on a stray light at the rear of Greenlaw鈥檚 town hall killing several horses in a stable block 鈥� but no humans.

Possibly because we were so sheltered in our rural paradise from the perils of war, the Major made sure we kept in touch through the daily papers and attendance by the senior pupils to hear the 9 o'clock radio news. We had to be in the Common Room at 10 to 9 on a Sunday evening for then the 大象传媒 played the national anthems of the allied countries - Poland, France, Belgium, Holland etc - prior to the news. The 大象传媒 had to abandon the practice when the number of countries became too large but, for 1940 and 1941, the Major, Staff and senior pupils sat in silent respect until the news came on. After the news, the Major announced what information he had been able to glean about former pupils joining the Services, being decorated or, sadly, killed or wounded in action.

The Major was also quick to act on opportunities for the school to make its contribution to this local community which had accommodated us at no small inconvenience to itself. The estate families were regular attenders at Polwarth Church, just over a mile away, but, during the winter, were often denied access with drifting snow blocking the narrow road. The first time this happened after our arrival, the minister as usual rang the villagers and the Major to say the service was cancelled. The Major of course replied 鈥淵ou provide a service and I鈥檒l provide a congregation鈥�. Thereafter whenever the snow was a problem, the Major's task forces were on the job early in the morning clearing a path. This of course enabled the villagers to get to church but also the School as well. Task force members were excused church and the rest of the pupils didn't look on us too kindly.

Of greater economic significance was the role of pupils in the potato harvest. Most farm labourers were gradually disappearing into the Services and farmers were hard put to it to keep things going. So in October and November two or three local farmers would let the Major know when they were ready to harvest a field of potatoes and off we would go 'tattie-howking' - boys and girls - a half day at a time (we had to spend some time having lessons!). 鈥楬owking鈥� days started well 鈥� a special 2-course breakfast of porridge followed by fried bread and baked beans! But the rest of the morning was usually terrible. It seemed always to be raining with a bitter wind blowing across the field and the digger passing you by every now and then and showering you with mud and potatoes. One's hands froze, noses ran, backs became sodden and the farmer marched up and down the field admonishing us to greater efforts and woe betide you if he found a missed potato in your half-stint of about a dozen yards. Some of the more robust boys would persuade the farmer to give them a full stint thus doubling their earnings but keeping ahead of the digger with a full stint I found to be well nigh impossible. For a half stint we were paid 2/6d (12.5p) for our half-day鈥檚 work which seemed meagre on the day but became untold wealth in the home-bakery in Greenlaw the following Saturday morning. However, despite the discomfort, it was a modest contribution by us to the war effort.

Then , for those pupils interested in gardening, small allotments were created beside the gamekeeper's house. Those of us who took up the option had hopelessly optimistic visions of rendering the School self-supporting in vegetables but it was not to be. Our lettuces were successful but the school soon let us know in no uncertain terms that they were fed up with lettuce, lettuce, lettuce, meal after meal.

The Major left John Watson's at the end of the Easter term in 1941 after 15 years service. His departure was just part of the unavoidable war-time turnover of staff. The School Board worried about the effect this turnover would have on our education but we pupils took it in our stride. It added spice to our lives. New teachers brought us new perspectives. No doubt the teachers saw themselves as being little better than Russians exiled to Siberia. For adults at Marchmont during the war there was no entertainment, no shops, no neighbours, no social life other than in the staff common room and hardly any transport. It is surprising that staff turnover was not even higher. Many of us felt that the spirit of the School left with the Major and regretted his going. Despite the difficulties of funding, administering and staffing a small school during the war years, the conditions that pertained during our evacuation at Marchmont were a positive advantage. We lived in a tight-knit society isolated from the great events happening around the world, reliant for our individual development entirely on our own resources. It taught us discipline, responsibility, to value friendship and to provide mutual support all to an extent greater than we would have acquired in our normal environment. Our undoubted achievements in later years reflect well on those ever-changing members of staff who, despite all the war-time difficulties, rendered those achievements possible. I can say without qualification that war-time evacuation in the circumstances we experienced played a prominent part in whatever success came to us in later life. When we left to play a more active part in the war - myself to the Royal Navy - few of us went without a tear in the eye as we sang 鈥� for the last time at Assembly 鈥�

Lord, dismiss us with Thy blessing鈥︹�︹��..

David Brown
2004

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