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Lucy Harrison

Lucy Harrison

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The impact of war on the lives of children, usually the innocent victims of appalling adult actions and exploitation, touches all of us who hold any degree of humanity. This piece reflects on evacuation in World War Two and how it affected the lives of young people.

According to the diary of John Robert Sherratt, who lived in Hartington throughout his life, 1900-1977, children were being evacuated from Salford to the village on 1 September 1939, two days before Great Britain declared war on Germany. It is not easy for subsequent generations to imagine how a child must have felt moving from noisy, heavily industrialised cities like Salford to the quiet of a rural farming location like Hartington, let alone the trauma of suddenly being separated from home and family. It must have been as equally traumatic for parents, entrusting young sons and daughters to completely unknown guardians, and it was not uncommon for parents to ‘reclaim’ children after just a few weeks and take them back home. Parents nowadays find it hard to imagine the sudden enforced removal of their children.

 

When the Second World War broke out in 1939 I was living in Leigh-On-Sea alongside the River Thames in Essex. On June 2nd 1940 (I was 10 years old) all of the children in that area were evacuated. When we waved goodbye to our parents outside our school we had no idea when we would see them again or where we were going.

We were only allowed to take a change of clothes, our gas masks and sandwiches – no drinks. We also had a label round our necks with our name on.

My brother and I were very fortunate with our foster parents. We lived next door to each other in cottages in Bradbourne, Derbyshire. I can remember the German bombers going over Leigh-On-Sea to bomb London.

Yvonne Grimbly (L’enfant)

Fred’s Story

On the nights of 23rd and 24th August 1943 a Halifax heavy British bomber set off from 78 Squadron RAF Breighton near York to bomb Berlin along with hundreds of other bombers from its own and other squadrons.

On the way one of the four engines malfunctioned but the crew decided as one to continue their mission with 3 engines.

On arrival at Berlin the whole city was ablaze and there was no hiding place from the German night fighters and the radar controlled AA guns especially at only 9000 feet.

Despite many aerial encounters the crew carried out their mission and started to return home.

Over the Dutch coast a night fighter bomber a Junker 88 attacked them but was shot down by the Halifax. The Halifax continued over the North Sea however with a second engine failure on the same side. The plane crashed into the sea 64 miles from Cromer. Only four of the crew were thrown clear and the rest went down into the depths with the plane. Sixteen hours later the four were rescued but only one, the mid-upper gunner, survived. My father was one of those who later died in the rescue boat – he was the oldest of the crew at 29 years of age.

This story was all too common and typical – almost 1 in 2 RAF personnel were killed.

Like most young men he didn’t think that he would be an unlucky one; and despite the Squadron padre’s exhortations my father did not inform my mother that he was on open active service. My mother had thought my father was still in training as a navigator but he didn’t want to worry her as I was only 11 months old.

Obviously, when she received the official ‘killed in action’ telegram from the RAF the shock was profound, and the effects remained with her all her life. She never remarried and raised me as a single parent.

My mother saved their wartime letters which were very romantic and touching. One such letter revealed that my father had played tennis for the squadron against Fred Perry, the Wimbledon champion, and won! He wrote of watching films that made him more home sick, of missing me and of her having to work with old fogies!

Many families experienced such losses at that time, but it would have been nice to at least have heard my father’s voice, just once.

By Michael Rowen

John Edward Thomas, known as Jack to his friends and family, enlisted with the Territorial Army just after his 17th birthday in 1935. He attended a training camp at Redcar in 1936.

Jack was called up a year before war broke out despite having a reserved occupation with the railway. He spent the war in Tripoli, Egypt and Aden. At the end of the war he was pleased to hear he had a home posting but was very disappointed to find out it was to Northern Ireland.

When Jack eventually returned to Derby, life was anything but peaceful. He had to fight to regain his old job at the railway and his marriage ended as his wife had an affair with a soldier whilst Jack was away.

Later Jack met and married my mother, Joan, and they were happily married for many years.

By John Thomas

In December 1939 Alan Alfred Whitehead married his childhood sweetheart Beryl Violet Whitehead. Five months later, in May 1940, Alan was “called up”. He wanted to join the Navy but he was told that because of his Grammar School education and his ability to drive a car he should join the Tank Corp. After demonstrating his patient manner and impressive driving skills he was asked to be a driving instructor and became a Corporal in the Training Regiment training Tank Corps recruits at Farnborough.

In 1942, whilst demonstrating schedules to visiting Officers, Alan let it slip that he had done the planning for the event, not his Captain. His Captain overheard this comment and ordered an instant transfer for Alan. The next day Alan was promoted to the rank of Sergeant and posted to Sandhurst to train Officers - his Captain was not impressed.

At Sandhurst, Officer Cadets were addressed as “Sir” and the Training Sergeants were addressed as “Staff”. Gunnery practise took place on Salisbury Plain. One of Alan’s jobs was to collect the empty shell cases at the end of the days firing practise. On one occasion a shell had miss fired and as the Sergeants were loading it onto the truck it exploded. Alan sustained injuries from shrapnel in his arm and his colleague sustained a broken leg. Alan spent the night in a nearby American Army hospital. The shrapnel was removed and Alan commented that he “didn’t feel a thing!”

Every week at Sandhurst there was a passing out parade for the Cadets and dignitaries often attended to watch displays and demonstrations of the equipment. These dignitaries included Churchill, Princess Elizabeth, Eisenhower and Montgomery. On one occasion, when Montgomery was visiting, Alan took the role of Instructor and some of his Sergeant colleagues pretended to be Cadets, to ensure that they put on a good show. Unfortunately, Monty saw through it and said; “Good show, but you couldn’t do that with real Cadets.”

Alan stayed at Sandhurst training Tank Corps Cadets for the remainder of the Second World War.

In later life Alan spoke about the desire he’d had as a young man to be a Priest in the Church of England but, he said, the war got in the way. When he returned home to his wife Beryl and their young son, Brian, he discovered that Beryl was struggling with nervousness and depression. She had found it stressful being a young mother with her husband away.

Realising that Beryl was struggling Alan put his vocation to the Priesthood to one side and took a job with the Co-op and ended up as Secretary of the North East Cooperative Society and was joint leader with the General Manager.

Alan spoke about sometimes feeling embarrassed that he hadn’t been a “proper soldier”. Although he took great pride in his role training Cadets, but he was well aware that many of them would never return home again once they had passed out and left Sandhurst to fight on foreign shores.

On Remembrance Sunday, 2011 Alan’s grandson had a chance meeting with a man who had been in the Tank Corps and remembered being trained by Alan on Salisbury Plain. Although the two old Tank Drivers never met, they were both pleased to hear stories about each other after so many years.

Alan’s life changed when he was called up to serve his King and Country in the Second World War. He sacrificed his vocation to the Priesthood to deal with the effects of war on his wife - and he did a good job - blessed with good physical health, Alan and Beryl celebrated their 70th Wedding Anniversary in December 2009.

Throughout his life Alan remained devoted to his family and to the Church of England. Although he never achieved his own dream to be ordained his son Brian is a Lay Reader in Durham Diocese and his Grand-daughter (in-law) is an ordained Priest in Derby Diocese.

R.I.P. Sergeant Alan Alfred Whitehead; Tank Driving Instructor, husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather and ALWAYS a Priest at heart.

By Chris Whitehead

I have just returned from a visit to France and Belgium spending time in the area that formed the Ypres battlefield in the First World War, visiting trench systems, cemeteries, museums and memorials. At the Commonwealth Cemetery at Tyne Cot and the German Cemetery of Langemark I reflected on the destruction of war, sacrifice and loss of life. I, along with 3 other students, paid our respects to the fallen at the Menin Gate, Last post Ceremony, and were chosen to lay a wreath in commemoration. For me personally, it was a very emotional experience, due to one of my relative’s names being on the Menin Gate. Overwhelming as it was, it was a huge privilege to be picked to do this and I will remember it forever.

By Danni Garton, Yr10 Merrill Academy

Why do we choose to forget,

When the best is still to be written.

So many stories gone untold,

Enough tears to fill a river.

So many went off to war,

With no flower or a caring tear at all.

When all the crosses are there to say,

They died for us all.

Fighting in fields full of poppies,

With no one to care for them.

100 years later,

We remember the debt we owe to them.

 

Ella Percival Age 11 St John’s Church

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