Evacuee: Did I Do Something Wrong Mummy?
by World War Two affected many, including the children who were evacuated from their homes, away from their parents and siblings. This story is my father’s story. Names and places are left out for a reason but the facts speak for themselves. There are no photographs just memories.
September 1939, I was six years old, a boy with six siblings; I was the fourth child in my family. My mother was a tender, gentle woman and my father, a strict man, he served in The British Royal Navy; he sailed in the Russian Convoy, he came and went in my life but held the family together with his love for us all whenever he returned to the home for his short time ashore.
We lived in East Anglia a port town and war had arrived, the Second World War to be precise, during that year decisions had been made on our behalf and the words evacuee and evacuation were on the lips of every British citizen.
I was a small, slight, mischievous boy who adored his mother, to this day and although I am at times suffering from the ravages of dementia, she is always on my mind. I remember clearly the noises at the railway station, labels, gasmask and bags hung around my neck, my sisters had been taken somewhere else and I remember the haunted look in my mother’s eyes, the kiss and the goodbye were imprinted in my mind for many months after we parted.
I remember being taken away from my mother. I remember thinking I had done something wrong, the sadness remained as the adventure began, it was June 1940 and I was transported away from all I knew for hours, transported away to a world I did not comprehend, a world full of people with clipboards, and a world away from my mother.
We were taken to a village hall in Gloucestershire , it was loud and full of children and adults, I was afraid, my school friend and I clung to each other, fear our enemy.
Gentle spoken ladies called our names and we were guided toward a plump smiling lady, the enemy, she said she lived on a farm and we were going to stay with her, we were going to be together, I hated her, she was a witch, I told my friend to run we had to get away, she was evil, she had removed my world and taken away my mother, I vowed I would not like this woman even if I did have to live with her. I smile now as I remember she was not the sort of woman you could dislike, she loved and was loved.
My life on the farm with my school chum was an adventure, I met new challenges daily, found new games to play and found new pranks to perform, in short for a few years I had a new life and it was not a bad one, I now know I was one of the lucky ones.
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Post CommentKaveri.Manohar
On August 10, 2008 at 12:40 pm
Really touching. I love it.
penny golding
On August 10, 2008 at 2:55 pm
Glynis that was beautiful yet I must say a tear jerker. Wonderful story. Great job!
Darlene McFarlane
On August 10, 2008 at 3:21 pm
It is a beautiful and touching story. Unfortunately it probably was the best thing to do for children in that time. I have heard such horror stories of children who were treated like slaves in those days, your father was very lucky. I am happy to hear mom and son were reunited but it was unfortunate that time was lost between them.
Such a wonderful story. Thank you for sharing a part of your family history with us.
Darlene
Glynis Smy
On August 10, 2008 at 3:24 pm
Thank you all for your kind words
Ruby Hawk
On August 10, 2008 at 9:14 pm
Such a sad story and it happened to so many during that time. Let us hope it never happens again.
Mystical Changeling
On August 11, 2008 at 12:32 am
You do have a way of writing the most moving stories. This is wonderful. I will be stumbling it.
tonisan60
On August 12, 2008 at 9:51 am
War is the worst thing that can happen to a country, my parents were children at War World Two in Italy, with the advantage that they lived in little towns were there were farmers, so even if they had passed famine, it was no so hard for them as it was for the people in big cities, on the other hand, my mother still tell me stories of kids playing with granades and mines as if they were balls.
Hard times the war ones, that live deep marks on people and their descendants, because the trauma of the parents are transferred to the sons and daughters.
Maybe what happened in this story was for the best, even if it was sad.
My claps for your amazing and touching essay.
Hugs and kisses.
Sunflower Ranch
On May 19, 2009 at 7:51 pm
A beautiful but heartbreaking story of your father as a very small child. It’s very moving. But they survived! Thank God for that and for your family’s bravery in the face of such a wrenching decision to ship him off to the country. It’s a terrible decision to make to break up the family so that they all might live. Bless you for sharing this!!
louie jerome
On September 3, 2009 at 7:57 am
Excellent article as usual Glynis.
Fegger
On September 3, 2009 at 8:40 am
So many of us rely on writers, like you, to extend the intimacy of war and conflict. Too often we forget that those who are actively engaged in such endeavors suffer, as their families do, in measures that project far beyond the battlefields. I truly appreciate you taking the time to draw such a sensitive, poignant illustration of such loss and hardship.
Glynis Smy
On September 3, 2009 at 8:45 am
Thank you for your generous comments. Dad’s Altzheimer’s has worsened and I feel I should make sure his story keeps on rolling, so we will never forget.
I cannot imagine sending away my children at the tender age of 6, I often threatened to, but I would never have been able to do what my gran did.
MMV Abad
On September 3, 2009 at 9:11 am
Nice story. Being separated from my kids are my worst fear. Its a good thing that your father had been lucky.
kate smedley
On September 3, 2009 at 9:30 am
That brought tears to my eyes Glynis, how poignant and touching, we don’t realise how lucky we are today.
kate smedley
On September 3, 2009 at 9:32 am
That brought tears to my eyes Glynis, how poignant and touching, we don\’t realise how lucky we are today.
Lauren Axelrod
On September 3, 2009 at 10:56 pm
Wow Glynis, you never cease to surprise me.This aspect of history has always haunted me when I saw the children being ripped from their parent clutches, on their way to a camp or somewhere even worse.
Jackie Stroud Painter
On September 4, 2009 at 5:56 pm
Nice job. Glad that you shared that with us.
Joshua Miguel
On September 4, 2009 at 7:48 pm
Very touching post. i hope history will not repeat itself, i will be very painful if this will happen again. tnx for the share.
CaSundara
On September 21, 2009 at 12:32 pm
Yes, it was very touching. I’ll show this to my son as he’s studying WWII right now. It’s good to understand the feelings of those involved, rather than just the historical facts.
I wonder whether it’s easier for mother or child? I’m only thinking that because children seem to be very adaptable (at the time, at least) and time passes quickly for them. Adults think more and understand the situation so much better. I can’t imagine not seeing my own children for any length of time. It must have been awful for both… thanks for sharing.
Glynis Smy
On September 22, 2009 at 9:57 am
Thank You for all commenting. Dad is in latter stages of Altzheimer’s and talks about this as if he is a child again. I think it is traumatic at first but they adapt. My Nan had two breakdowns in her life, and I am sure this contributed to her mental health. I think as Dad got older it affected him more too.