1945: An Evacuee's memories
During the war news came via the wireless or cinema newsreels. In the early months of 1945 we understood that the fighting had moved to Stalingrad and Italy.
Our fear of facing a German attacker on our way to school faded as the Allies fought their way up the Normandy beaches and Generals pushed arrows on their maps away from England.
'It sure is good of you to have me share your Sunday meal, Ma'am,' said Staten, a nervous G.I. waiting to be posted to France. Homesickness and fear hung about him like a smell.
My sister and I felt lucky. We shared a family meal with our foster family every day and were both too young to be called up to face the danger of being torpedoed or struck in the back with a bullet.
'We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when,' Vera Lynn sang. 'But I know we'll meet again some sunny day.' Aubrey smiled confidently in his R.A.F. uniform from his photo by the wireless. But what of Staten, feeling the impact of the bullet as he bit into his apple pie?
'Keep smiling through just as you used to do,' and just as our foster parents did, always cheerful, always positive,though news bulletins sometimes filled the room with dark clouuds and telephone calls brought news of relatives missing in action.
'There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover tomorrow, just you wait and see.' We needed songs like that. We needed the promise of 'joy and laughter and peace ever after.' After the war, a golden time.
It won't be long now. Not long now.' The war was turning in our favour. Evacuees began to drift back home. My sister Isobel and I felt safe for a while, knowing that our house in Merseyside was badly damaged. I was twelve years old, happy at school and happy with our third foster family in Oswestry, Shropshire.
V.E.DAY 8th MAY. Isobel and I were woken by a peal of church bells ringing, a sound not heard for six long years. The war was over. Huge relief flooded through the town.
By huge good fortune we were back with our foster family for the half term holiday. We were able to reconnect with some former school friends as we joined the crowds in the High Street and Market Square, later streaming into the park to enjoy the exuberant crashing cymbals of the brass band.
'Joy and laughter,' though sadly, not 'peace ever after.'
