How my evacuation came about.

I lived with my mother and brother, Charley, my father having died early in 1944, at Harvard Road, Hither Green, Lewisham in south London. We were bombed out of Harvard Road during the early part of the war, probably at some stage in the Blitz. My story nearly came to an end there and then, when a landmine fell about six houses up the road from us. The bomb must have been dropped during the night because I remember that when we emerged from the Anderson shelter in the back garden, much of the back of the house was missing, with progressively more damage towards where the bomb had fallen. I think the house was patched up as best could be, but eventually we were re-housed at Brockley, still in Lewisham.

We stayed there for a while and were eventually re-housed at Bellingham, Lewisham. It was here that we endured the continuation of the bombing both while at home and at school, with my mother’s daily warning not to pick up what we found in the street on our way to school. Shrapnel was highly prized by all of the boys and was often still hot to touch from the air raid the night before. My mother must have had very strong nerves because there was never any talk of Charley and me being evacuated, even when V1 bombs, “Doodle Bugs” started to arrive in 1944. Later on, however, a V2 bomb “the silent killer,” fell on shops at New Cross, south London, killing many daytime shoppers. This was the final straw for my mother and we were soon evacuated.

The journey started in a playground at a school in Plassy Road, Catford. After last minute farewells we boarded double-decker busses that took us to Paddington railway station. Whether we stopped on en-route or not I don’t remember, however, I do recall the floor of the compartment getting a bit wet as the journey progressed. I can clearly remember the carriage window being wound down by the thick leather strap, and pocket handkerchiefs being held out of the window to catch the slipstream of the train. Inevitably several hankies were lost. We eventually arrived at Newton Abbot Station, and subsequently put on to coaches.

Our coach eventually arrived at Kingswear and we were marshalled into the village hall and stood in a row for people to select whom they were prepared to accommodate. Apparently, girls were preferred over boys as “Boys were trouble”. Eventually Charley and I were picked. I think that one of the problems was that Charley being 12 years old, had been told by our mother that we were not to be parted. It may also have been written on the cardboard labels tied to the lapels of our jackets.

Our first accommodation in Kingswear was in a row of terraced cottages accessed from the main road via a very very long flight of steps. There were two rows of cottages, one being built higher up the hill. However, to this day I cannot remember which of the two rows we stayed at, but I do remember those stairs.

Another strong memory is that of a dreadful feeling of home sickness. The time of our arrival in Kingswear is etched in my memory, not in days or months, but in the very strong smell given off from the then popular shrub called privet. The somewhat sickly smell is etched in my memory, and for many years after instantly reminded me of that awful home sickness.