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The story so far...
When war started in 1939, Sam Harris (D93J) and his two younger brothers
had been evacuated to the village of Long Lawford in Warwickshire where
they happily stayed with the Grimmets. However, they then had to move to
the village of Monks Kirby - and the happiness was to vanish...
Our new 'parents' had one son, a few weeks younger than myself. If England
had ever been taken over by the Nazis, here was a willing candidate for
the Waffen SS! He was extremely tall, blond, blue eyes, and a bully to
boot! No way was I going to cross swords with him!
Then Sunday morning arrived and off we went to church. I was
petrified. What would my parents think? Their Jewish children being forced
to go to church...?
I had no idea of the order of service, but just stood there
in a pew petrified. I looked at the altar, a very ornate part of the
church with its big cross. It seemed that the vicar spent most of the time
either there or before a lectern, going on about the evils of men. A short
reference was made to we evacuees and he hoped we would all be good, God
fearing Christians, and would expect to see us in the afternoon for Sunday
school. The one bright spot of the service was the hymn singing. I had
learnt quite a number of hymns at my old school so more than held my own
with the locals - especially with 'Waffen SS.'
After the service, we went back to the house where a fair
lunch awaited us, but I didn't really enjoy it with the thought of Sunday
school looming ahead!
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However, it turned out to be quite interesting and I
did learn quite a bit about Christianity, which was to come in useful in
later years.
Following what was to become our usual breakfast of Corn
Flakes or Porridge and tea, Monday morning saw us back at the village
school. It was a bit cramped, bearing in mind an influx of approximately
35 extra pupils with their teachers. I must admit that the village kids
were ahead of us with woodwork. But when it came to the commercial
subjects such as maths, geometry, algebra, and French, the latter three
were not in their curriculum, 4-1 to London!
The local Headmaster had two Soccer Cup Final medals on his watch
chain, in his time he had played professionally for Leeds United, WBA and
Huddersfield Town. At playtime, which was in an adjoining field, he would often
join us for a kick about. Almost 61 years later, I can still see him now, a
slight bespectacled figure wearing a grey suit, and grey homburg hat. He was a
very nice guy who I was always sure understood our homesickness.
Resentment Towards Evacuees
We would go back to the house for a fairly mundane lunch and then back to
school until 4pm when it was back to the house for
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the customary 2 slices.
After tea we would be sent out to play with the other kids in a large field
nearby. A game of football soon developed and before long we were joined by
some of the young men who had been to work. The game would go on until dusk
when we would be 'allowed' back indoors - albeit reluctantly.
There always seemed to be resentment towards us on the part of our
temporary "mother." I never knew why, although I could sense it but
she was delighted when she (and I) heard on the radio that parents would be
asked to make a contribution towards evacuees costs.
And so the days went by. Autumn turned into winter and the war was
still going on. Even though the days got shorter and colder, we were not
allowed back into the house until it got dark, then to have the usual two
slices.
Then two unfortunate things happened which were to shorten our
stay. My youngest brother had contacted Impetigo and a few days later I picked
it up. Horrible scabs appeared on my nose and ear. My brother got it first and
the inference was that we came from a dirty home in London. That upset me
greatly. My home wasn't dirty...
To be continued... Sam Harris (D93J)
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