Children Evacuation from Hockley Train Station June 1940 

Children evacuated in Coleford c.1940 

End of the war

The only reason anyone from my group left the area now, was when they became 14 and could leave school. But 2 girls obtained employment in Coleford and stayed there. I remember taking 2 boys the 20 miles to Gloucester to put them on the London bound train. This was in 1941 so they probably joined the forces before the war was over. I also recollected escorting a younger boy with his pet canary. He was bound for a new home in Rutland where his mother had been evacuated. He was able to reach his destination by travelling on the Midland Line over Lickey Bark. The summer of the Battle of Britain passed into a delightful autumn and then to a really cold winter, where we were cut off by deep snow for many weeks. The children were sometimes visited by their parents and other people came to take refugee in our community when Coventry and Bristol were badly bombed.

By September 1941, I was able to return to my own school where things were much more normal there for many months. The upper floor had been opened and we had all usual lessons and even our summer sports day. Concrete air raid shelters had been built and we moved into them if the alert sounded, taking our work along too! Our school filled up because children from the East of London, who had been bombed out of their homes, moved in until their houses were repaired.

In the spring of 1944 we expected that we should soon reach D-Day. It came in June and so did a new danger to S.E. England – flying bombs. More evacuation for anyone who required safety and peace! Teachers volunteered to go with each party and returned home immediately. Four of us and about 8 children were taken by bus to Euston Station and directly to a train. Once again an unknown destination but a very different journey! A corridor train for a start; cheerful experienced children calling from the windows whenever another train stopped near us. "Got any gum, chum?" This as the time when there were gum chewing Amemians everywhere. We arrived at Southport on the coast of Lancashire. The hour was late so we spent the night on the floor of a church hall on paliesses, lying in rows. The children tired enough to sleep on any thing! In the morning a few children were taken away to billets but it soon became apparent that few people wanted us. The days of the flying bomb were unknown here and perhaps people had become indifferent. We decided something drastic must be done so we selected some of the most charming children, tidied them up and took them for walks among the shoppers. Some stopped for a chat; we stopped others telling them who we were and of the need for homes. It had the required result and people went to the hall with their offers so that by early evening we 4 teachers were ready for a train back to Essex. As there were none until the morning we strolled along the seafront where there was no sign of the war; no barbed wire and people on the beaches. We spent the night in a hostel for seamen – now empty – on wooden mattress beds (no springs) but we slept well without hearing an ‘alert’ and were ready for our long journey home. Most of the children stayed in the north and were very happy until the war ended the following year. They not only escaped the sleepless nights, spent shells from the V1 but also the danger which followed from the V2 (Rockets) which just arrived unannounced.

People talk about the evacuation but from 1939 to 1945 there were many. I took part in 3 of them.

Alma L. Hewitt 1912-1987 née Fakes; teacher at Rayleigh and written in 1980. She taught at Churchfields School 1933-1937 and then at St. Barnabus Road School (=Woodford High School) when it opened for 12 to 14 age pupils from the other schools. Both were near east London but in Woodford, Essex.

She omits a related story in which she was walking outside the St. Barnabus Road School in Woodford, before or after the third evacuation of only some of the children there and saw a doddlebug (=V1, an early cruise missile made in Germany) heading for the school until it was caught by power lines near the playing fields. Around that time my Aunt Joyce F. Hewitt was teaching in another Essex school, near railway tracks at Dagenham. She had a large part of one tail go through the ceiling over the children's heads and 20 yeards back out into the school yard via the window.

Arrival

One coach held boys from the newly opened school (Chingford Grammar School near Woodford), clad in smart light blue caps and blazers. We had known they were on the train but had not had contact with the party previously. Their coach led the way and the rest followed. We left the grey stone buildings of the little town and moved along country roads in the gathering dusk. Sometimes tall trees obscured the sky; sometimes we passed huge rocks and vast stone quarries. Where would we sleep we wondered? As the clock struck 10, we reached an open space, which was town square. It was thronged with people who might have been expecting royally to arrive! We were shepherded along a pathway to the door of the town hall but helpful people pressed forward to assist some children struggling with their cases and took them away from the crowd. Inside the town hall, the children were all given billets and taken away by newly acquired foster parents. By midnight teachers too had been taken somewhere to sleep. What a day! Next day it was quite clear that a number of children had been mislaid. The helpful hands from the crowd had been people who had refused to offer accommodations to children but changed their minds when they saw the first coach of clean children in smart blazers descending! My twelve were quite safely accounted for but it was at least 2 days before everyone was located! School did not start for several days as billets had to be visited and children settled down. Together we explored our new surroundings. We could not believe it, but once again we had trees near us-- miles of them in the beautiful Forest ofDean. Coleford is a small town on the edge of the forest within site of the Welsh hills and from it, roads led uphill in every direction to small hamlets. Most of the roads were rather rough and the children had to walk everywhere, as there were very few buses. Soon their shoes were wearing out and some of the parents back in their home towns couldn’t afford to replace them. Soles were not so tough as now, most being made of leather. The Americans had sent over a lot of clothing for people who might be bombed and we teachers were able to get some boots for the boys from this store kept by the W.V.S. (Women's Voluntary Services a war-time organization) in Gloucester. It was not easy and I’m afraid we even unblushingly told a few tall stories to get all we needed. The other thing happening this summer was that the un-rationed food was getting scarce so things like biscuits, cakes, sardines and other tins and above all Swiss chocolate were very hard to get. We had only one ounce of butter each from our ration books and very little meat. The Forest of Dean has the River Wye as one of its boundaries and fresh salmon was often in the shops under some other name and quite cheap! Vegetables and fruit were plentiful so the children didn’t starve! We were given interesting advice about walking in the Forest where in the summer we found foxgloves and in the autumn sweet chestnuts and blackberries. "If you don’t know the way, keep going uphill and you’ll eventually get to a path for home." We also learned a lot about coal because it is dug out of the forest hillside and we of often came across the tracks along which the "foresters" pushed the laden trucks from the cave where they worked.

Train trip ends

We went on through Cambridgeshire and towards Peterborough always heading North. We had had our packed lunch when the twins remembered it was Sunday and time for Sunday school. Out came their books and they organized suitable service there and then. Leaning out of the window, I could call to one or two other teachers and we decided we’d be in Derbyshire in an hour or so. Then we realized that we had changed direction and by the sun could see we were proceeding westward! In mid afternoon we stopped at a station with several platforms and were told we could use the toilets! The station staff had also very thoughtfully filled several metal milk churns with water for us, but had no cups. The children with mugs soon produced them and although it was the colour of lemonade, no water ever tested so good to most of us. It does sound ridiculous now, but we were not surprised when no one would tell us the station name! We decided it was Bletchley, but we were not sure. From then on we headed westward – no towns, just a few villages and farms. The sun still shone but it was cooler because evening was approaching! More food seemed in order and then because we must be nearly ‘there’ much watching from the windows! I recognized a building often seen in history books and knew we were passing by Chipping Campden. Later, we saw a race course-quite close-someone had forgotten its name was displayed – Cheltenham! Excitement grew. We must be going to Wales – but it was still a long way off. I had taken a map from my atlas at the last moment when leaving and we now poured over it. One of the boys was a railway enthusiast and as we travelled along a wide river estuary (R. Severn) he informed us all that’s Lydney Bridge. Shortly afterwards we stopped. Everyone tumbled out plus luggage. The reception committee took us in buses to a school where immediately a nurse and doctor inspected every child. Having been passed as clean and fit they were led to a table and given a bun and a bottle of milk. It as so refreshing to be still at last and to feel cool. We were puzzled that no one spoke about billets, but as everyone was busy we just waited to see what happened! Imagine our surprise when coaches appeared and we were all bundled into them.

Second Evac

During the Whitsun holiday in mid May (5th –12th), the school at Rayleigh became the headquarters of a Rifle Brigade Company and although the teachers were admitted to get their personal property, school did not re-open. The evacuation of the Army from Dunkirk, aided by the little boats from Essex, had begun and in the midst of all this arrangements were made and orders given for more changes. This time the children of the Southend District were to be evacuated. Barbed wire rolls covered all the sea front and the town was to be cleared of as many people as possible.

My party of experienced evacuees had fresh orders! We packed our bags, sorrowfully said goodbye to our kind foster families and met at Hockley Station at 7:30 A.M. on Sunday June 2nd – which was to be the hottest day so far that year. The radio announced this fresh evacuation from S.E. England several times and had even said that Derbyshire and Wales were to be the reception areas but as we boarded our special train we knew nothing more than that. My group of 12 children piled into a carriage, which seated 6 aside and had no corridor! This meant no access to toilets or possibility of stretching our legs or being able to talk to others of our trainload. We travelled quite slowly through Wickford and Billericay to Shenfield heading for London we assumed, but no. We were switched in to the main line going north to Chelmsford and Ipwich. Twice we stopped for small parties of children to join us but where I cannot remember. Then with the sun pouring in on us, most settled down for a snooze for everyone had been up early and sleep seemed a good idea. Several things were different along our railways in June 1940. In case there should be an air borne invasion following the Nazis’ success in Holland and Belgium, every station nameplate had been removed. Even signal boxes had lost their identification names. Unless one was familiar with a place it was quite impossible to know where your were. Then of course there were dozens of small loop lines connecting to our present main lines, so it was possible for a train to travel almost anywhere from E. to W., N. to S. This is the kind of journey we now found ourselves embarked upon. I knew E Anglia fairly well, so I recognized many stations and landmarks as we jogged steadily on stopping for signals or water for our steam engine in lovely places among fields of daisies and buttercups and growing corn. We always seemed to have an airplane in sight and felt it to be our guardian angel. For many days there had been trainloads of soldiers, moving about England from the channel ports where they had landed from the continent, so a close air watch was being kept no doubt, even if our special train was not being shadowed.

Day to Day

In the country we enjoyed a cold snowy winter with sliding on frozen ponds and inches of snow for many weeks. We shopped in Southend and Westcliff, where we saw soldiers being drilled and many boats collecting off the pier head waiting for ‘convoys’ to sail. We still heard noises in the air and were told about ‘mine-laying’. There were always a few spitfires awaiting ‘red alerts’ at the flying club hut, where Southend Airport now stands. We all carried torches as we had no streetlights and never a chink of light showed from a house.

Although there was little bombing over England, the war was going on and more people were being drafted into the army, navy, airforce and coal mines as well as women into certain kinds of factories. Many people had their offices moved to the seaside and country districts. The BBC broadcast many programs from outside London and Civil Servants were sent to other places e.g. Harrogate in Yorkshire. Hospitals also moved many departments to buildings in safer areas. In London itself, theaters re-opened and concerts were given because many other people were visiting London and needed them.

During springtime, we heard of Hitler’s progress in overrunning the countries of Europe and were dismayed at the speed of the changes taking place. One of my boys, whose dad was a R.A.F. pilot, announced that he had come home. I asked how long his leave was to be and was told that he was home for good – they had all come home! Shortly after that we knew that our ally Belgium was not able to fight any more!

We had already seen the men practicing in ‘The Home Guard’ and the Auxiliary Fire Service. Now we heard that people with motor boats and yachts of a certain size were asked to register. Boats were being got ready for sea in the boatyards and moorings along the R. Crouch and R. Thames. We had only radio in those days and not much news was given. There was a slogan on posters which said "Be like Dad, keep Mum" and everyone knew that silence was important. In Hockley, we now heard night patrols of bren gun carriers going round our country roads especially watching the marshes in case of air born invaders. On the still nights of May the song of the nightingales had a background of far distant gunfire from Northern France. (I understand it had something to do with the bouncing of sound waves on to the hill).

Day 2

One amusing thing happened that night. One air raid warden cycles past our house ringing his bell and calling, "Take cover". It was a warm night and the ‘black out’ was not over the windows, so we all scrambled out of bed, dressed hurriedly and grabbed our gas mask boxes in the dark, before going downstairs to the room considered to be the safest. Later we found we were using other people’s gas masks, having mixed them up scrambling about half asleep! We heard nothing more until over an hour later the weary warden came past calling, "All clear".

During the following days, single enemy planes came over occasionally to see what was going on in the Thames estuary. At night the searchlights shone their beams on them and sometimes a plane would chase them off. This was seen and the "pop pop" of the firing heard and the children wrote home telling "all about it" and more! At the weekends, parents began to arrive to take their children home to a safer place where no dogfights would be seen or alerts sounded.

The holidays had not ended so everyday we met our children in-groups and played games, explored the countryside, including Hockley Woods and did outdoor projects. We discovered that Hockley was near to Hawkwell and met our friends living there. Then we found others at Hullbridge and Ashingdon. When the autumn term started, we shared the village school, local children in the morning, evacuees in the afternoon with activities in the morning, out of doors but before long as more children went home, we became integrated. I went to teach the older children at Rayleigh School – now called Fitz Wymark, but I still lived opposite Hockley church. The teachers who had been called back met groups of children in various houses or in a ground floor room in the school, for home work to be given out and marked. In this way there were no crowds of children in one place but everyone got some education. Eventually strong shelters were built and part of the school was re-opened.

The Beginning

We broke up for the summer holiday in 1939, hoping that all would be well and that Mr. Hitler would see sense and not invade Polish territory. From my school a party of boys actually went to Germany to meet up with and spend a camping holiday with some schoolboys whose teacher was a friend of their teacher. The latter had sent a letter suggesting that they had better not go, offering some excuse, but, as it was not insurmountable, they went. They were there almost two weeks, when the British Consul told them they must go home. They arrived at the end of August. By then our school staff had been recalled to a meeting. Only those with telephones got the message. The telegraph lines were working overtime and my message took three days to go five miles (Woodford to Tottenham). As there were many rumors going about, I had gone to find out if anything was happening and found much activity.

It was Friday August 31st and children were being enrolled for evacuation on Sunday September 3rd! They were given labels to wear and told what to carry with them. Younger brothers and sisters could stay with the older ones. Sunday morning was warm and sunny when we left Woodford in a fleet of red double decker buses and travelled along the Southern Arterial Road. At Cuckoo Corner, we took the road to Rochford and drew up in front of the Council Offices. Here each person was given a paper carrier bag containing things to eat and called 24-hour rations. I remember a tin of corned beef and a packet of hard square biscuits, which we always called "Dog Biscuits". They were actually rather pleasant to eat. After that each driver was directed to a different village, so we waved goodbye to each busload as it went off. My bus was sent to Hockley, where we all spilled out with cases, carries bags and gas mask hung round our shoulders. In to the school playground the children stood, played or sat about until directed where to go by the Bulleting Officers. The woods were next to the playground and as we had come from the edge of Epping Forest, everyone felt at home.

The team of ladies called "Billeting Officers" worked very efficiently and soon the numbers dropped as children were led away and taken to billets by their foster families or the ladies. Brothers and sisters were kept together and very few children were far from their friends. All were ‘home’ in time for Sunday lunch. One of the billeting officers claimed a colleague and myself. She explained that she had plenty of room but couldn’t look after children and still do the job (Mrs. Tibbins living opposite the parish and who kept goats). At 1 o’clock we heard that we were at war with Germany. That afternoon a certain number of families had to be visited to check that all was well. We found that one 11 year old girl who had been in my class that year, was most upset because she thought she should eat her ‘iron rations’ and not the roast beef set before her. That evening she was obviously so homesick, we decided to ‘adopt’ her. She began to dry her eyes and eat again with 2 others she knew to cheer her up.