My family lived in Rotherhithe, London, S.E.16 many years ago. I was only 4 years old when we were evacuated to Cornwall, taken away from our parents (1939). I was the youngest one in our school, Albion Street School. I still remember a big pink piece of paper pinned with a safety pin to my coat with my name on it. Our family consisted of 3 boys and 3 girls. My mother was promised that her children would not be separated but we were. My eldest sister Rose was not evacuated as she was old enough to stay behind and work in a factory to make fire arms and bullets. My sister Joan and I were evacuated to Cornwall and my brothers Ronnie, Lennie and Jimmy were sent to Eastborne.
Joan and I went to live on a farm for a couple of years. The farmer was a nice man that I recall, but his wife was so very mean to us evacuees. I would be whipped if I cried for my mother. She would make me go out and find the thinnest twig from a tree and she would literally put whelts and bruises on my legs if I cried. We were there for 2 years until Mum couldn't stand being away from us anymore, so she took the train and came and got us and took us home to Rotherhithe, where we stayed until the war was over.
There are still some stories that I remember as a child during the war but being a child, it didn't sink into me the severity of war. I think back now and realize how horrific it was. When we were down the underground shelter (under a block of flats) while we were being bombed, my mother and all the other neighbours down there, would make us children sing as loud as we could so that we wouldn't be frightened of the bombs dropping.
I still remember the "stench" of the portable bathroom down the shelter as so many people had to use it and sometimes we were down there for several days. One day, after being down the shelter for several days, Mum insisted that Dad take her for a walk to get her "out" for a little while. A siren sounded while they were walking and Dad wanted to take Mum to the closest air raid shelter, which was 4 walls and a large slab of flat concrete for a roof. Mum would not go in there and insisted they go into the pub across the street until the air raid was over. As it turned out, a bomb dropped on that shelter, killing everyone in it and Mum and Dad were safe in the pub across the street, have a whiskey and ginger. The good Lord above was certainly watching out for our Mum and Dad that night.
I would like to hear from anyone that lived in the Rotherhithe area (Bermondsey) - I am sure there is someone out there that remembers those days.
Sincerely,
Joyce Gilley (formerly Bentley)
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