Carole Long's Story























updated 11/16/00

 I was seven and herded with the 'ticket, and gas mask' from

Chatham for Wales.

Actually this was after for some odd reason I had been sent to

Sittingbourne with a large gun and search light across the road

from the lovely billet I had for only a few weeks.


The arrival in Wales with my sister (who was 11 years old)

was pretty awful.

The people really di d not want to take us waifs in.

I imagine I had been doing a fair amount of crying,

The W.V.S. (Woman's Volunteer Service) took us door to door,

my sister got taken in, and finally, I did too but I knew they did not

want me. After several more'homes' I did have a nice one in

Dinas Posse A dear older couple taught me how to spell 'which '

and to tie knots using the back of a chair, and a shoe lace.

Sad to say I could not finish my time out with them, I had very bad

skin, and other ailments, so I was sent to Blackwood in,

North Wales in the mountains. It could have been idyllic at another

time. A huge mansion had been made into a 'hospital'.

I don't know if we had 'real' nurses.

It seems a doctor came every so often. There were so

many children, girls and boys all in big rooms together,

most of the time we were supposed to be in bed,

I do not know what the other children were

there for, there were too many for them to look

after everything, I will never forget putting off going to the

bathroom until I would nearly burst,

they were so disgusting?

I found one up a long winding staircase, maybe it was

for the adults? but was not as bad, think I ended up getting

in troubleusing it.

More trouble, was a farm (the only other building in sight)

They supplied Blackwood with milk and eggs, I was

sent one day to get milk, oh what heaven I was in!

did not want to go back, pigs were running around,

cows and calves, chicks with the mother hens clucking them

around, I was in my own little world (little did I know

how much animals would play in my life later on)

of course, I could not stay away, I can remember the

mud!( funny what one remembers!) and many times

was dragged back and punished.

I am not sure how long I was there,

it seems now days all just ran into one another.

This saga goes on with hostels, more unhappy 'homes'

school where they only spoke Welsh and were not about

to try to teach me...but

I would like to know if anyone remembers Blackwoods.

My parents were both in the Air

Force so I did not see them much.

I now live in Canada, I was the first POST war bride, came

over on the SYTHIA (Cunard line) in 1953, went to pier 221.

That is another story!


Carole Long Nova Scotia.




I feel being evacuated robbed me of my childhood, also when you

go to schools in Wales where only Welsh is spoken,

and I was ignored, sure messed up my education,

which resulted in me working for a veterinarian by the time I

was fourteen. I never did return to school.

I lived with many different Welsh families who really did

not want me there.

I watched their children get treats and none for me.

I think many of us have some horror stories in the back of our

minds. I like to think that this experience has

made me be very thoughtful of others.

I wondered why I ever had to go away since when I was sent

home the blackout was still in place,and the wailing of the air

raid siren

(I still catch my breath when I hear that type of siren) went

every night.

As both of my parents were in the Air Force, I was living with

my Granny in Chatham.

Popjoys was just up the road, and of course, the dockyards not

oo far away.

Granny would not use the shelter at the end of the garden, we went

under the stairs,(where the gas meter was,) penny for that,

and we actually had a meter for electricity.

That was a shilling, never use that! And

if the gas ran out when it was dark I was sent to bed.

Does any one remember having to change those awful mantles

for the gas?

They were soooo fragile, (and it would be a clout across the

ears If I broke it!) back to the air raids,

we did have one bomb in the garden, had we been

in the shelter it would probably have hurt us more.


Then; of course, the horrid 'Doodle bugs' and V 2's.

I can still see myself throwing a small child I was

baby-sitting on the ground when one stopped

right over us 'up the fields,' thank heavens it drifted far

enough away so that we were not badly hurt. Got used

to 'dropping' to the ground and covering my head.

I have many memories of those days.