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.