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Memoirs of a Southern Evacuee - part 1

by Ken Sadler

The evacuation of schoolchildren from London and other towns in the South East was a subject of discussion virtually since the declaration of war. We had heard that it might take place but the majority of us who were old enough to understand the situation rejected the idea of leaving our homes and way of life, and preferred to remain with our families and take our chances with the rest of the population. We were not to know at this time that we would have little choice in the matter.

I cannot be precise as to the date but I would think that it was probably March 1940 when it was announced that schools in the Southend County Borough were to close. This was probably the general situation in the South East. Full time school was to be substituted for one morning per week at various locations, including some private houses, which I assume were the homes of teachers who no longer had a classroom to attend. This ludicrous arrangement lasted only a few weeks and was abandoned. Evacuation was offered to those pupils who wished to leave and was to take place in May 1940. Realising that the only chance of receiving some level of education was to leave the area, I persuaded my mother that my six-year-old brother and I should go where we could attend school as normal. I recall that on the Saturday evening, we were taken for a final treat to the cinema to see The Wizard of Oz.

The next day, Sunday was very sunny May 1940 day and we joined hundreds of other pupils at Southend's Central Station for our 'Mystery Tour'. We carried our gas masks in a cardboard box, and had various receptacles i.e. cases & carrier bags etc. with our few belongings. Everybody had a large label pinned to their person with their identity & address. I expect that we must have had sandwiches and drinks but I cannot remember. After all the good-byes and tears that I am sure can be imagined when dealing with several hundred children and their families, we finally got underway. We had no idea where we were going and I believe our destination was as much a mystery to our teachers.

I wish that I could relate some incidents of the journey but unfortunately all I can remember was that it seemed the journey would never end and it was extremely hot. I don't know whether we had any stops or whether we were the final group to leave the train. Neither can I remember which railway station we arrived at but recall finishing our journey by bus, our group consisting of probably no more than one or two classes. All of the evacuees from Southend were located in either Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire; our destination was Hartshorne.

We arrived at the village at about 6.30pm and assembled in the school playground where we were given refreshments, and our prospective guardians saw us for the first time. My brother and I were lucky enough to be able to stay together, which was not always the case, and we went to live in Camps Lane with Arthur & Nora Nicholls and their baby son, Patrick. We were quite happy and content in our new lodgings and I felt we would remain here until the time came to return home.

It was during this period that rumours were rife regarding German paratroopers who were dressed as nuns and could be expected at any time. It was now that the LDV (Local Defence Volunteers) were formed, a forerunner to the Home Guard. On one occasion, I recall that from dusk on a summer Saturday evening until dawn on Sunday, some twenty or so Volunteers plus a number of boys who fancied the idea, went to the top of the highest peak to be found outside the village and sat in a circle facing outwards, carrying a gas mask and a packet of sandwiches. It was not really exciting but at least we showed willing. It was a very long night at the top of that hill and I don't think the exercise was ever repeated !!

My brother and I stayed the Summer of 1940 in Camps Lane with the Nicholls family and spent a lot of our spare time at weekends on one of the local farms, which was a totally new experience. I was involved in potato picking for which I got paid. Starting at 8am and finishing at 5.30 pm was a long hard day especially during the hot weather but the bending and stretching to fill the potato baskets did us no harm at all. I used to ride back to the farmhouse at the end of the day on horseback; again a very new experience for me. The potato picking season lasted for about two weeks in all.

The first time that I saw a combine harvester clearing a wheat field, I could not understand at first why they worked around the edge of the field, working their way towards the middle where a square area was left. I soon found out however when rabbits by the dozen ran from the wheat to be shot by a number of people with 12 bore guns. The rabbits were skinned on the spot and the skins hung on a fence and there would be a wheelbarrow full of fresh rabbit distributed amongst people in the village who wanted them.

We occasionally walked to Burton on Trent to go swimming in the small indoor pool which was situated beside the river close to the bridge in the centre of the town. We soon learned where Marmite was manufactured !! We walked to Burton via Bretby Park leaving the village close to the Chesterfield Arms.

On one of these walks we were informed by a gentleman with a shotgun of the legend of the chained tree, which was situated in the middle of the park. I presume that it is still there with the black iron chains attached each branch to the trunk of the tree and surrounded by an iron fence of the type seen in Victorian cemeteries. On the homeward walk, at the appropriate time of the year, we could fill our pockets with the sweet cob nuts that littered the ground from the large number of trees that we encountered.

It became evident in the late Autumn of 1940 that the Nicholls family no longer seemed to want us to remain in Camps Lane and we were informed by a teacher that we were being moved to other lodgings. We moved to the extreme end of the village and lived with Mrs. Warren and her daughter Anne opposite the Chesterfield Arms. We joined four other children who were resident with the Warrens and I recall that they were from either Birmingham or Coventry.

Anne Warren was a formidable lady who claimed that on a pre war Christmas morning, she had played at right back for Crewe Alexandra. I had no reason to doubt her claim but had the utmost sympathy for the opposing winger.

The Winter of 1940/41 was severe in the village and we experienced snowfalls that we had never seen in our lives before. The large pond opposite the Admiral Rodney was frozen for several weeks. Most of us were good roller skaters and had little trouble mastering ice skating on the pond to the point that we played our own version of ice hockey, the puck being a circular tobacco tin filled with mud. I cannot recall what we used for hockey sticks. The skates which were borrowed from boys in the village were unlike the steel 'skeletons' in use today. They consisted of a wooden shoe shaped platform with ankle and toe strap and a slat in the bottom face carried an eighth of an inch steel blade.

Around the village there were some very fine toboggan runs which were something we really enjoyed, being a big change from our winter activities in the South.

During this period in 1940, enemy bombers were frequently heard directly over the village, looking for the factories in Derby. The Rolls Royce aero engine plant was a particular target which I think was hit on a few occasions. There was no mistaking the unsynchronised drone of a Heinkel 111 and I can remember lying in bed awake for long periods while they were directly overhead, hoping that everybody in the village had good blackout curtains.

Just after Christmas 1940, my brother was taken ill and went into hospital. It was quite obvious to me that being six years old he was homesick and very unhappy with life. It was decided that when he left hospital he would return immediately to Southend, which he did.

The conditions under which we were living were not particularly congenial, and Anne & I did not see eye to eye when it came to the standard of accommodation and I decided that I would find other lodgings. Having applied at school for a move, I was very surprised to be offered a chance to return to Camps Lane with the Nicholls family. I expect they felt they could cope with a family increase of one, whereas two was probably difficult for them.

I had a special little task to perform every Saturday morning. I walked to Swadlincote and waited for a couple of hours outside the butchers shop in the main road with several dozen others in order to buy black pudding. Other delicacies may have been on offer, but I cannot remember.

Everything seemed to be going well until one day at school in April I felt very unwell but stayed the whole day. Having walked back to Camps Lane after school, I collapsed whilst walking up the garden path and knocked over a dustbin. Within a very short time I was in an ambulance on the way to Burniston Isolation Hospital with diphtheria of which there was a countrywide epidemic at the time. Several children in the village were also affected. A few weeks of being very ill were followed by many weeks of recovery which would probably not be necessary with modern drugs, which were not then available. The staff were mainly concerned with the fact that a patient may be well enough to leave isolation but could still be a carrier of the disease.

I remember that during my period in hospital, we received the news that HMS Hood had been sunk and that the Navy were chasing the Bismarck; this was in the middle of May. Something else I will always remember was the morning dose of cod liver oil. The nurse had a trolley and bowl in which a few dozen tablespoons would rattle as she pushed the trolley down the ward. When your turn came, she would put a large bib around your neck and proceeded to pour a tablespoon full of oil down your throat. It any got spilt, the spoon would be refilled to the brim and administered once again. After this ritual was completed, we were told "Now you can have a sweetie" which was okay if you had any sweets to take away that vile taste. Despite our loathing of the stuff, I expect it was very good and no doubt speeded up our recovery building us up for the future.

Visitors were not allowed to enter the hospital, of course, and the only ward had high windows just under ceiling heights so you could only see the sky and it would not have been possible for visitors to see into the ward. I received a parcel most weeks from my family with comics and sweets.

I remember 'Film Fun' and 'The Wizard' and they must have given up their sweet ration to send to me. I remember when the nurses said I could get out of bed and walk in the ward. They warned me that after about two or three steps I would want to get back the bed I was longing to leave. With the aid of a nurse on each arm I did take about three paces but that was quite enough. It was extremely painful building up the leg muscles and it took quite a time before I could attempt to walk unaided. I was treated exceptionally well in Burniston Hospital and have always had the highest regard for the very kind staff that looked after me. After leaving hospital I returned once again to Camps Lane and the Nicholls family. I soon regained normal fitness and probably played football within a few weeks.

Our school time was made very interesting by the various local industries that we visited. I remember going to a pottery where we were shown the whole process in making china goods. I recall being fascinated watching the girls in the factory painted the designs on the plates and cups etc. It looked a highly skilled process with the accuracy of the sometimes intricate patterns and the consistency throughout a complete set of cups, saucers and plates was quite outstanding. We were taken on a tour of the coalmine at Castle Gresley. We went through the galleries in the pit until we were on hands and knees at the coal face. The whole process of obtaining and shifting the coal was explained and demonstrated and I remember having to write an essay on our day at the pit. I had the greatest admiration for all the miners and the work they performed, but I was convinced that it was not the occupation that I would personally relish. Fortunately I was not a Bevin Boy. Another visit I can remember was to a blacksmith's forge, where we were shown various things being manufactured, including horseshoes and the fitting of these.

These visits were all things that we would never have experienced if we had stayed at home.

The teachers on occasions organised whist drives and those of us who were considered to be competent to play the game were invited to attend. I remember that on one occasion it was decided to hold a 'military' whist drive. For those unfamiliar with this event, it merely replaces the collection of the actual points marked on a card for a collection of flags. Many of the pupils in the village were engaged for several weeks before this event in painting hundreds of these flags which were about the size of a postage stamp. Every known flag on the globe was produced with the exception of the 'swastika'. When a specified number of these flag tokens were won during the game, they were exchanged for a single flag about the size of a cigarette card. In turn when a number of these larger cards were won, they were exchanged for a version about the size of a standard playing card. This provided a very colourful display against the green baize covered tables and enlivened what could be a somewhat austere affair under normal conditions. The whist drives were taken very seriously and to revoke whilst partnering the headmaster was not to be contemplated. The whist drives were always held in a small hall situated at the rear of the Bulls Head pub. This hall was also employed as a classroom for some of the Southend pupils.

I cannot remember how it occurred but I became the owner of a bicycle and with a couple of friends spent a lot of our spare time riding around the area. I can recall several trips to Ashby de la Zouch and Repton where we would have a few words with any of the college boys that we encountered in the village. We had a couple of rides to Derby via Ticknall and we detoured on the way to pass through Melbourne. I cannot remember for what reason, but on a summer day several dozen of us pupils were invited to a garden party at a big house in Melbourne where we were given a very good time by the owner, who was probably titled.

I believe that it was in Derby that I first encountered a civic restaurant. I think that these were established to assist war workers in local factories to obtain a meal in somewhat difficult circumstances. We were all, of course, living with food rationing, but no form of voucher was required to eat in a civic restaurant. For 6d, you could obtain a lunch of some type of meat and mashed potatoes mixed with mashed swede which was very tasty. This was usually followed by a 'cabinet pudding' with very runny custard but for 6d this all certainly filled a need.

My return to Camps Lane did not last very long and during the Summer of 1941 it became obvious that it was necessary for me to arrange some alternative accommodation.

part 2...

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