Wartime Evacuees
During the Second World War, I was living in West London with my parents, brother and sister. (My mother: Mrs Gertrude Harris, and her children, Brian, Valerie and me Janet.) In 1944 we were informed, by the Government, that all children had to evacuate to the countryside, due to the prolonged bombi...
| Main Author: | |
|---|---|
| Format: | Text |
| Language: | unknown |
| Published: |
2024
|
| Subjects: | |
| Online Access: | https://doi.org/10.25446/oxford.25924180.v1 https://figshare.com/articles/online_resource/Wartime_Evacuees/25924180 |
| Summary: | During the Second World War, I was living in West London with my parents, brother and sister. (My mother: Mrs Gertrude Harris, and her children, Brian, Valerie and me Janet.) In 1944 we were informed, by the Government, that all children had to evacuate to the countryside, due to the prolonged bombing of London and the other big cities. Mothers with very young children were allowed to accompany them to their temporary homes. At the time, my brother was 8 years old, my sister 6 years old and I was two. My mother, brother and sister had been evacuated before, in 1939, and were billeted in Somerset. This time we were being sent to Yorkshire. At the time of this evacuation from London my father was serving in the army, and was stationed in the Faroe Islands, just off Norway. Mothers and children assembled at Kings Cross Station, ready to board the train to Whitby, in Yorkshire. The sight of the children sobbing and weeping was heart wrenching to watch, as too were the poor mothers who could not contain their own tears as the bewildered children boarded the train. Like all the children, we carried our gas masks in a cardboard box on a piece of string around our necks. Attached to our coats was a label with our name printed on it. We sat in a carriage, opposite a very well dressed, elegant lady. Thankfully, we children were dressed in our Sunday best clothes. Although my parents had very little money, we were always clean and tidy. The lady struck up a conversation with my mother, and they chatted as the train sped along its journey to Whitby. Once we arrived at our destination, we transferred to a coach which rumbled through the countryside until we reached a small village several miles from Whitby. We were then directed to the village hall where we sat around the room waiting to be selected by the local residents, the children sitting cross-legged on the floor. The younger children who were on their own looked frightened at the prospect of their new home and its owners, although many of the older children were ... |
|---|