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!
Regards,
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.
