91热爆

The Thornton鈥檚 War Part 2.

My Relocation.

I were just three years of age when evacuated in one of a convoy of three red, London double - decked buses, embarking around 9 am, at a school playground at New Cross Road - South East London.

Mum had been up and about since daylight. We had breakfast and mum was telling me of my holiday starting today, away from the bombing and I would soon see and be able to play among countryside animals. We were joined about 8 am by my aunt Molly and proceeded to a school nearby where mum registered our name with adults sat at a table inside the school doorway.

I recall mum clutching my sister and waving their hands at me as she and my aunt wished me goodbye, advising me to 鈥� Be a good boy.鈥� I was lifted aboard the bus. An official photograph of the occasion shows me dressed in short woollen trousers, cotton shirt a grey, hand - knitted jumper, tweed jacket, grey woollen socks and brown leather sandals.

Clasping a brown paper parcel bound with string, containing a change of socks, shirt and underwear, this being almost all I possessed in this world. Albeit In my jacket pocket I had a treasure, a bag containing 录 pound (I had never has so many) boiled sweets.

With my gas-mask in its grey cardboard container hanging by twine across my shoulder and, a cardboard label with my name etc, pinned to my jacket left lapel, I was off into the wide 鈥� and hopefully, bomb free countryside, although our destination were secret not even my mother knew where we would be going?

On the bus, we children were segregated. Boys seated on the top - deck, sometimes three to a seat, manufactured for two persons. Girls were seated like-wise on the lower deck. A middle-aged male driver and, two women in their twenties staffed the bus. One of each took care of the top and bottom decks of the bus.

During the trip I became aware of practical socialism. My sweets and those belonging to others fortunate enough to have any, were confiscated and pooled, then distributed at intervals among all the children, keeping us all happy.

Although the London County Council who arranged our evacuation advised parents that we were to be absent for three months, some children had little more than the clothing they wore. Others, mostly girls had a small suitcase containing a change of clothes etc, and they held their doll or teddy bear comforter as if their life depended upon their keeping hold of them. All the suitcases were stacked beneath the bus stairway, and upon the long seats adjacent to said stairway.

I am unable to remember much of the journey away from London, apart from sitting on the offside of the bus, four seats from the front. Beside me were twin five-year-old boys named Martin and Peter Wheeler. They had been blitzed from their home in Plumstead on the outskirts of London and, Peter was extremely nervous.
Between them they had a stub of pencil and a small grey, DIY covered book of writing paper into which Martin recorded in enjoined lettering, our names and last known addresses, whereupon we exchanged these for possible later use.

About midday, we cut short our journey by visiting a railway station. I am able to recall this as there was a steam engine coupled to three carriages, facing the way we had come. I remember naively saying to my friends that I wished I could join the train and return home to my family.

The girls were ushered into the station using both male and female toilets for their ablutions. We boys were directed by our drivers to pee into a ditch adjacent to the buses. We were provided with two buckets of cold water and four hand towels for our ablutions. It was here that Martin relayed a conversation he had overheard, that there were 290 children on these buses.

Early that evening we arrived at a hall in Batley, Yorkshire. The sign Batley were marked upon a small board and taken into the hall as soon as we arrived. On disembarking our suitcases etc were taken from us and stacked adjacent to the entrance doorway. We were allowed to perform our ablutions, and instructed to sit upon a line of benches, again segregated.

Loaves and Fishes

We were issued a small tin beaker and chose either an orange or lemon fruit cordial drink from large white enamel jugs also paste sandwiches dispensed by women.

Seemingly in the hasty trip, we hadn鈥檛 been allocated to a host family. Soon we were scrutinized and, selected like pet shop animals, by local women.

Presently all the female children and older boys were chosen and had departed, this leaving I and three others of identical age. I wondered what was happening? Our mystery tour & evening snack now ended 鈥� where were we and, where was mum?

Four adults commenced to stack the benches into a side room. Three women visitors arrived and, in minutes left again. A well-dressed woman (i.e. not in working type clothing or headscarf) in her thirties came into view. She had a pleasant smile and strolled up to we children, gathered together in a corner gazing into the fire buckets, filled with sand and topped with cigarette ends.

By now, we four kids were uneasy friends. I am unsure about the others but I was beginning to feel frightened, after-all, It was now quite dark, albeit there were adults about and no-air raid siren鈥檚 howling.

The smiling woman approached me and removed the cardboard nametag from my jacket. She then entered an adjacent booth, where she possibly registered herself as my guardian, etc.

She eventually returned to me and holding out her hand asked me 鈥渨ould you like to be my little boy?鈥� I was unable to reply, how do you answer such a question at my age? We left the hall with her carrying my brown paper parcel of spare clothing and, I clasped her hand plus the all-important Gas Mask. I often wonder what happened to the remaining three youngsters?

A short distance away were a shopping centre, and we visited a millinery shop. A man was adjusting the blackout curtains to eliminate light from the shop, thus depriving bombers etc in their attack. Here my guardian purchased pyjamas for me and we made our way to her home, without a word being said.

My new abode.

My guardian鈥檚 home, surrounded by countryside, were (I am sure) a detached house with three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. A kitchen, living room and two rooms downstairs.

Following an evening meal of brown bread (the loaf she held upright and cut towards her, as did my mother). Butter and jam, also a cup of warm milk inside me, I was beginning to feel less apprehensive. At possibly 7 pm, this woman bathed me in a real plumbed-in bath, unlike the 3ft (1 metre) zinc bath or even the kitchen sink I had recently become accustomed to.

Being acquainted with the loo, I was put to bed in a room of my own, with linen sheets and fluffy pillows. The woman kissed me on my forehead, I am unsure who was the most surprised, me for receiving or she for delivering it? I was asked if I wanted the bedroom door left open and the passage way lit? I accepted the former, declining the latter.

Funny enough, I never missed the sounds associated with my mother and sister, and I fell asleep without trouble. Also unlike many other children I later overheard spoken of, I have never wet the bed.

The following morning during a breakfast of a brown boiled egg (rationing were rigid, each person allowed one egg a week) and brown-bread buttered soldiers, this lady, laid down the rules (as its phrased nowadays). Her name was Mrs Lilley, but I was to call her mum. Anything - she said, anything at all troubling you, I was to tell her.

About 10 am, mum took me shopping and acquired further clothing for me. I was also registered at a pre-school for toddlers and under fives. Even now I recall the looks of bystanders as they spoke to me, or watched me being led by my new mother.

That evening. I sat quiet and motionless in Mrs Lilley鈥檚 kitchen, much as I would at home with my Mother, needing to have me close in case of an emergency. I listened to the radio as my new mum cooked a meal of meat and vegetables on the black-leaded, double, coal-fired cooking range. I thought this is a weekday. Why is she cooking a Sunday meal? I also noticed, here sausage fat were used for cooking.

She removed an enamelled metal dish from among three others in the oven, from which she took a seven by four by 1/4 -inch pancake she had cooked and, offering this to me upon a plate, she said, 鈥� You look as if you could do with this John.鈥�
This: was my introduction to the famous Yorkshire pudding, eaten as a starter or with the main meal - otherwise with jam or honey as a sweet the latter I called afters (After Dinner) and caused much mirth from my new mum.

Life in Batley -Yorkshire

Following breakfast on my first Monday morning, a young woman named Kelly or Nelly (who became my guardian angel,) collected me from my host and, gathering two other children on the way, we walked possibly a mile passing just half a dozen houses to the local school. Here I attended a nursery schooling class with a number of boys and girls up to the age of four. Here we used slate boards on which to chalk. (Whereas children have exercise books nowadays).

After a cooked lunch and sweet, served to us as we sat eight either side of a large table, we would return to our class to find rush mats and a small cloth pillow had been placed about 3 ft (a metre) apart on the timber classroom floor. Here we rested for about an hour 鈥� To allow your meal to digest.鈥� I often fell asleep during this rest period. In the early afternoon, our guardian angel would collect we three children and return us to our homes.

About three months following my arrival in Batley, I became familiar with the populace, most of who were amused by my accent and what鈥檚 now called 鈥榚stuary English鈥�. Words such as ain鈥檛, meaning I will not. Or iffy and dodgy, meaning not to be trusted. The word Tit, or tifter caused them to shriek with laughter. This being from tit-for-tat, meaning my hat (cap). Most cockneys use the first part of the word in this rhyming slang. I was never much of a chatterbox, but my accent seemed to amuse everybody, bringing me closer to the community.

Each Wednesday evening a middle-aged Butcher, whose name I believe was Arthur, would call and join us for the evening meal. Arthur wore an official looking armband with 鈥榝ireguard鈥� in yellow upon it. This confused me for I knew that we had metal fireguards surrounding the front of the fireplaces, stopping hot coals falling upon the carpet.

Arthur would chat with me about my family, whilst mum busied herself clearing the table etc following the meal. Arthur seemed troubled by a letter from my real mother, addressed to me via Mrs Lilley, which he read to me. Mother wrote she couldn鈥檛 tolerate the squalor and lack of food at the place where she had been billeted and, she and my sister had returned to London. The part unread were, would I like to return home?

The fact that I couldn鈥檛 remember much of my father鈥檚 stature etc, as photographs of dad hadn鈥檛 survived the bombing and I was an infant when dad left home 鈥� To do his bit to defeat fascism,鈥� seemed to bother Arthur.

Soon it was time to bathe and retire to bed. I took with me the small tin in the form of a round red, British post-box, given to me by Mrs Lilley as a present, in which to keep my bronze three penny weekly gift (pocket money) Arthur were to offer me.

War-games

One weekend morning whilst playing with my friends we witnessed an aeroplane skim across a hedge and crash into a nearby field. At three years of age, I had little knowledge, but knew the results of air war combat. Rushing to the area and finding the aeroplane upright and smoking, pilot-less and unsupervised, we began to nudge and play upon it.

This was possibly the happiest and most important moment of my young life, until the warning 鈥� here comes the police, 鈥� whereupon I fell from the aeroplane wing, injuring myself .

鈥� The police鈥� happened to be two air-raid wardens, one of who escorted me to the hospital where I remained for a week as I required seven stitches (sutures). I have the scar to my left eyebrow, arm and leg to this day. It goes without saying; mum (Mrs Lilley) was horrified when she visited me that evening. During my time at Batley I also underwent the removal of my tonsils, I must have been a real worry for my surrogate mother?

A seaside break.

In mid 1943 or early 44, Mrs Lilley took me for a protracted holiday at a Hotel in Blackpool (the name meant mucky pond) West of England.

It were very peaceful here, there was nothing to do, especially in the evenings, unlike today with its Pleasure Beach, one-armed bandits, incessant muzak, nightlife, clubs and 24 hour gambling casinos etc. I relished the sight of an anti aircraft gun and its crew, albeit, I never witnessed the weapon used in combat.

Following meals at the hotel, mum and I would stroll along parts of the beach or promenade, safe from military hard-wear. We often saw people called the home guard, known as the Local Defence Volunteers (or look duck and vanish as my mum called them).

I recall two shops in the immediate area. One being a greengrocer - grocer, the other a tobacconist / sweetshop. The latter we visited often, having to pass it daily. On show were dozens of empty sweet jars, but mum seemed able to purchase something for me to chew or suck. I often chose the homemade brown bread ice cream costing just a penny. I knew nothing of the need for sweet-coupons and persons being allowed just 3 ounces of sweets per week.

A woman named Mrs Barnacle graced the Hotel as a receptionist. During a walk one day, I asked mum about surnames, especially that of the woman Barnacle? Mum explained the reason for surnames, my own included and that barnacles were crustaceans that lived in the sea. I remember musing how apt this was the seaside. From then onwards I couldn鈥檛 help grin when passing Mrs Barnacle. Who wouldn鈥檛 know why, possibly thinking I was pleasant, or simple??

Mrs Lilley, received news that my real mother now resided (and more importantly) was settled at Kingston - upon -Thames, just two miles from Hampton Court Palace 鈥� Surrey.

91热爆coming.

In April 1945, Mrs Lilley and I left Blackpool and travelled to Hampton Wick railway station at Kingston Upon Thames Surrey. Here my real mother and my sister awaited us.

After much hugging and kissing from my mother, who was amused at my Yorkshire accent and exclamation expression of 鈥� ee - baa-gum.鈥� My sister Monica was shy, she being an infant when we parted.

We walked 戮 of a mile to where my mother now resided. This was at Cedars Road, adjacent to Bushy Park, which were separated by housing and a very long road named Sandy Lane.

My mother was renting the top floor of this three floor, hunting type lodge. The section she used was a redundant, gas lit billiard room. The billiard tables had been removed, but timber flooring retained the marks where they had stood. This room now served mother as a kitchen and living room. Adjacent ether side of the landing were two (possibly ex-cloakrooms) now serving as my mother and sisters bedrooms.

The second floor housed a loo and five rooms, now used as bedrooms. The tiled ground floor consisted of a loo, a library and three other rooms, also a scullery, cold room and kitchen.

My fathers Brother Archibald, his wife my aunt Alice and three children, my cousins Terry age 7, Peter age 5 and Ivor age 3 his family and his wife鈥檚 mother used this ground floor living space. I was introduced to my uncle and family.

By early evening we sat in the billiard room for our tea of bread, jam, and squash, also a homemade fruitcake made in honour of my 6th birthday, large enough to feed the whole household. Afterwards we children played for a while, then bathed and by dusk after an embrace from both my mother and surrogate mother I retired. From then onwards my sister and I used the rooms atop of the stairs as our bedrooms.

Whatever was discussed overnight between my mother and Mrs Lilley, my guardian had departed when I awoke the following morning. I was heartbroken and cried that evening in the solitude of my bedroom, and a few more evenings after that. From then I took up life as a normal youngster with my mother, sister, Uncles, Aunts and numerous cousins, almost an island of relatives, unlike the recent past as the only child.

Continued

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