Memories of an evacuee

by RAYMOND REED

We left Hull on a Sunday morning in the summer of 1940 when I was 11 years old. All children who were going to be evacuated had to take their clothes and other necessities and meet at their school. Several schools were involved in the operation and our party, from the West Dock Avenue School, was accompanied by two teachers and some mothers who escorted us on the bus ride to the Corporation Pier.

Children from other schools in the town had gathered there and we all boarded the ferry across the Humber to New Holland. A special train was waiting at the platform and as it pulled out, no one on board seemed to know where we were going other than the purpose of the journey was to escape the bombing in Hull.

To some, it was a big adventure, especially those who had not been this far away from home before, and certainly not on a ferry or train, and when we arrived at Sleaford, excitement mounted. Buses were waiting and once loaded, they all set off in different directions but our destination, with five other buses, was Bourne although some dropped off children at various points along the route.

We alighted at the Recreation Ground and were grouped together according to the schools we had attended. Local officials, mostly ladies, acted as escorts and assigned to the various groups and marched us off to different parts of the town, we heading for Eastgate. Our delegated billeting officer was a man who started knocking on doors as he walked down the street asking householders if they would take in an evacuee. Some refused but those that agreed came out and picked the ones they wanted to stay with them. The same procedure was operating elsewhere in the town for children from the other schools that had made the journey.

I had hoped to be billeted with a boy called Dennis Colby who lived in the same street back home and since we knew each other our parents wanted us to be together. But the lady who chose Dennis did not want anyone else and so I continued on with the group to Bedehouse Bank. More boys were given homes here but not me and I suddenly felt unwanted because it looked as though I would not get anywhere to stay.

On the way to Bedehouse Bank we met Mrs Vera Bristow out walking her dog. She said that her parents would take the last three evacuees and accompanied us to her parents’ home. I did not know either of the two boys or their names but at least we had somewhere to stay at last.

The Clay family lived at No 43 Eastgate and they turned out to greet us. The children were all girls, the eldest being Phyllis and the others were Vera, who was married to a chap in the Royal Air Force, Jean, who attended Bourne Grammar School and the youngest, Mavis, who was almost a year older than me. The other boys were Ronald Dunbar, who was one year older that me, and Albert Walker. The three of us were to sleep in two bedrooms at the back of the house and we also discovered that one of our teachers, Mr Telford, who taught German at the West Dock Avenue School in Hull, was also staying there. He gave us strict instructions to behave ourselves or we could be sent to another billet.

After three days, two evacuees from next door, Ernest and Eric Matson, were brought in because the woman said she could not cope with three boys and she kept only the one. Later, three girls came to live with us and we boys were moved upstairs to other bedrooms.

Outside in the yard there was a barn with access to the wool warehouse where Mr Clay worked as foreman. We often went there to play and it was inevitable that we got into mischief. Mr Telford used to get a German newspaper to read, Das Reich, I think, which came through the post. We kidded the local lads that Mr Telford was using it to receive secret messages from Berlin but the tale soon reached the ears of the police and a sergeant was sent round to investigate but he soon discovered that it was just a joke.

When the autumn term started, we were all sent to Abbey Primary School which we shared with the local kids, alternating mornings and afternoons a week about, which meant that there was a lot of spare time out of the classroom and so the teachers had to devise ways of continuing our education. In summer, we swam at the outdoor pool and when it was wet we went to the Corn Exchange.

One of the things we did learn was ballroom dancing with the girls from Hull but it proved to be rather difficult for some because the only footwear they had was heavy boots or Wellingtons but this did not prove to be an excuse not to dance because our teachers made us take them off and dance in our socks but the boys who came in shoes always got the nicest girls.

The Loyal Regiment was stationed in Bourne for a time and soldiers were billeted at various houses in the neighbourhood. Army transport lorries were parked on the ground behind the wool warehouse and we became friendly with two of the soldiers who gave the evacuees a Christmas party at the Corn Exchange.

There were always odd jobs to do, helping clean up waste wool at the skin warehouse in Eastgate when we sometimes popped into the slaughterhouse to see how the animals were killed and occasionally we were asked to help out. At the gasworks nearby, we often helped keep the coal supplies going by filling the wheelbarrows on their way to the retorts, a welcome task in winter because it was always so warm.

To earn pocket money, we took a variety of jobs, pea pulling, hoeing weeds and potato picking during the season. Some of the boys delivered newspapers for three shillings a week (15 pence in today’s money), working six mornings and one evening although the times changed because the papers often arrived behind schedule because of air raids in London. On those days, we were allowed to go to school later.

I also got a job at one of the butcher’s shop, filling the coal bucket and laying the fire ready to light on every weekday morning while on Saturdays I helped deliver the meat around Bourne and out towards Twenty. I had a delivery bike with a large basket on the front and it was often so full that it needed my weight on the seat to stop it from tipping over. In the afternoons, I went in the van with the butcher to finish the town deliveries.

When I was 14 years old, I left school and went full time at the butcher’s shop but went to live with Miss Olive Clay in Bedehouse Bank. By this time, I was working six days a week for which I was paid £1 10s. of which 15s. went for my bed and board. Miss Clay was not married and was an officer in the Salvation Army. Two other officers were living at the house and they helped run the Salvation Army hall in Abbey Road where the soldiers could get a cup of tea and a bun, listen to the radio, play table tennis and generally relax. .

Everything we did was new and strange but what an experience for a small boy. I returned home in 1945 when I was fifteen but have never forgotten those days in Bourne and I have been back to see the town since because I have such fond memories.

WRITTEN JANUARY 2006

Note: Raymond Reed is now 77 and lives at
6, Lyric Close, Harthill Drive, Hull, Yorkshire HU3 2QJ.

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