Looking Back
Reflections of a London Child on the War years 1939 - 1945
by
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The W.R.V.S. were out in force and great excitement greeted our coach. They had been told to expect some evacuees and having laid on urns of tea, cakes and sandwiches, etc. were becoming increasingly worried when no evacuees had turned up. Cries of welcome greeted us and we were helped off the coach, but before the first cup of tea passed anyone's lips, it was realised we were not the expected party but a different group altogether. There we stood, the mothers tired and gasping for a cup of tea, while the good ladies of the W.R.V.S. wondered what to do. They were reluctant to dispense their tea and cakes to this stray crowd, when any minute now their bona-fide evacuees could turn up also needing refreshment. After much discussion, and probably telephone calls to some distant body, we were all led into the hall and the food and tea made available. We still did not know if we were staying here, but eventually the powers that be stated that as we were 'in situ' as it were, Upwell might as well have this lot rather than those planned for the village. Though it was a bird-in-the-hand situation, the Upwell officials were not very pleased. They had been told to expect school children and had canvassed the village for householders willing to take in a child. To be suddenly faced with placing mothers with babies and toddlers was a very different proposition. We all sat around on long forms, for hours it seemed, while villagers were encouraged to take their pick. They came in, in ones or two's, walked around us and looked us over, it was a most unnerving experience. We sat still and quiet, trying to look pleasant and acceptable, whilst warily weighing-up our would-be hosts. After careful deliberation one little family would be chosen, usually a mother with just one child, and they would be transported away by a member of the W.R.V.S. Our party was the largest with Mum and three children and the officials said we would have to be split up - nobody in the village could take us all. Mum did her solidarity bit again and said we were all staying together, she would not hear of us being separated. We sat on while the room slowly emptied of mothers and children. We had all been given a brown carrier bag of 'iron rations' to be given to our prospective householder. Delving into this bag - which we had been expressly forbidden to do - I found an enormous bar of Cadbury's milk chocolate. I had never seen such a large bar before, we often had a small bar each at home but this bar was more mouth-watering than anything I had ever seen. When we had our little bars Dad had always insisted we broke off a square at a time and daintily popped this morsel into our mouths. We were never allowed to munch at the whole bar, small though it may be. I had always longed to bite and chomp at the total slab, and now here was this enormous bar in my hands. Behind cover of the bag and shielded by Mum, I surreptitiously peeled off the silver paper and took one huge bite. Suddenly the air was rent by a thunderous shout from a hatchet faced lady who rushed over and snatched the chocolate from my hands. She proceeded to rant and rave at me for daring to open my bag, let alone to actually start eating its contents; this appeared the ultimate sin; Mum was rounded on for letting me behave in this way, which left her quite bewildered as she had not even been aware of my misdeeds. Poor Dorothy was subjected to a lecture should she have the temerity to touch her bag which succeeded in reducing her to tears. In all the upset and shouting little John wet himself and a large puddle slowly crept over the floor.
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About the Book
This book is a first hand account of the events of World War Two seen through the eyes of a teenager who spent some of this period enduring the bombing raids on London, and some of it billeted with various families in the country as an evacuee. The writing incorporates a chronological account of the main events of the War, but is written in such a way that it doesn’t seem like a history book. It’s a real life adventure story, sometimes funny and sometimes sad. Life wasn’t all picnics in the country for an evacuee, and such things as toilets in sheds at the bottom of the garden took a lot of getting used to for a little city girl. As a source of information on the social history of Britain, this book is invaluable as there are all sorts of details that you wouldn’t normally find in text books. It’s written with a sense of the ridiculous and Eva’s description of how the family actually used their Morrison Table shelter could be a script for a comedy sketch. Above all, this is a book with universal appeal and is to be recommended to anyone with an interest in the war years as well as schools and colleges where the subject is taught.
About the Author
Eva Merrill was born in 1927, the eldest child of a working class family living in North London. She was twelve when World War 2 started in 1939 and she and her sister were evacuated to various parts of the country where they would be safer than in London. Eva also spent some of the war years in London, living through the constant air raids on the city. After the War Eva worked in a bank for a while before she decided to go to college to train to be a missionary. Whilst at college she met Ray Merrill and fell in love with him, so wasn’t allowed to complete her course. In common with most women of her generation, Eva gave up work to bring up her family of three children, but once they were of school age she had lots of different jobs ranging from apple picking to librarian, juggling work around the family. In the 1970s she trained as a Social Worker and worked in Hackney for a number of years until her retirement. Eva has acute observational skills and a ready wit; both are reflected in her writing.