Nostalgia: When WWII child evacuees made Southport their home
Local historian Geoff Wright takes a look at Southport’s role in World War II and its place as a haven for evacuees
GREAT Britain – and indeed south west Lancashire – braced itself for war from April 5 1939.
The Government planned the immediate evacuation of 2.5m children – should hostilities begin – and the politicians did their bit; The Commons produced the Civil Defence Bill while health ministers fully recognised that their task to provide a timetable for evacuation (codenamed Operation Pied Piper) with transport authorities, within just a few days, was a colossal task.
People proposing to evacuate themselves had to observe a ‘women and children first’ rule – others should stay at work!
By the end of August Britain’s cities became strangely quiet – save the gentle tears of the children leaving; labelled, andd clutching theirr sparse personal pos- sessions – and DON’T forget your gas mask (‘yes darling, I know you don’t like it, but...’).
The great exodus saw over 1.5m of them prised away from their parents arms, evacuated to safer areas around the country. Parents wishing to evacuate their children – it was of course voluntary – were told to send them to school with no more than spare clothing, toothbrush, comb and a (clean) handkerchief – and a bag of food for the day.
Schools became reception centres with fleets of buses – taken off their usual routes – conveying the confused little evacuees to main line rail (and sometimes bus) stations. In London, 72 underground stations were temporarily closed to the public to speed up the long-planned operation.
Few parents knew where their children would end up, only told ‘as soon as possible’, afterwards, as throughout the country billeting officers prepared to receive ‘townie’ youngsters, introducing them to their temporary hosts.
Parents could visit their children but were encouraged not to do so often as this could unsettle the children.
Consequently, mums usually knew little about the people who raised their children.
Evacuees in Southport
Our elegant Victorian resort’s population expanded even more, in just two days, by a bewildering array of some 15,000 equally bewildered and displaced evacuees. Youngsters – after living out of a small suitcase – would come to eagerly enjoy our sandy beaches and hillocks, and impatiently await parcels and letters from loving mothers.
As an evacuation centre, Southport was host to many thousands of young people not just from the Bootle area, but as far afield as London, as hundreds of residents threw open their homes. The majority of the children continued their education here for some time. All-in-all, Southport did its best to make a valuable contribution to the welfare side of the war effort. It was indeed an enormous task to house and accommodate all these children, but nevertheless the town’s leaders successfully accomplished it.
Complex issues
For many of these bewildered children this was the first time away from their families or even their own home town, and the shock of the upheaval was certainly great. Carrying pitifully few belongings, they had no idea where they were being sent – for many it was the beginning of a great adventure, for some a complete nightmare.
Evacuees were to provide fascinating, amusing, but sometimes disturbing, glimpses of how children and adults coped with the trials and tribulations of evacuation.
One evacuee later said: “When we got to Southport it was like going to heaven” – but I’m sure it was not the case fo for all of them, when emotions were in overdrive; the experiences of evacuation by the children gave happiness or sadness, excitement or boredom, resentment or acceptance, love or abuse, during their time away from home.
Along the way, fundamental questions would be raised by evacuation. How were relationships between children and parents affected by the long periods apart? What happened when brothers and sisters were separated? And how did the children feel when they went home? How did the officials in charge of billeting and teachers get caught up in events?
The evacuations had a significant impact on shaping attitudes in post-war Britain, and the post-war Lancashire coast, to everything from reconstruction and state intervention to poverty, social class, and the welfare state.
‘We are now at War’
Then, reality set in, and from 11am on September 3 1939 the country was at war with Nazi Germany – and was ready, taken with profound silence then a sense of immense relief and grim satisfaction, as the shilly-shallying was over, the die cast!
Our King said: “We can only do the right as we see the right, and reverently commit our cause to God.” The bullying oppressor had to be stopped! Our ultimatum expired to Hitler’s Reich – England had (eventually) spoken after being divided and dithery!
The declaration took two minutes – winning the war took longer. Half an hour later the first air-raid siren sounded in London, but it was a false alarm – or practice drill – as an unidentified aircraft (subsequently proving ‘friendly’) approached.
A pile of regulations
By the end of the month – four weeks of anxiety, false alarms and uncertainty – Britain was settling down for a wartime winter. The Government had expected 100,000 casualties during the first few weeks. Hospitals had been cleared, mortuaries stacked with piles of cardboard coffins, and lime-pits dug to cope with the dead.
Every home had a handoperated stirrup-pump and long-handled shovel to deal with incendiary bombs. But, the blitzkrieg did not happen. Instead Britain was bombarded with regulation after regulation, exhortations and petty officialdom. Public Information Leaflet No1, for starters, urged everyone to carry a luggage label with their name and address. A National Register was completed and identity cards issued by the end of September.
As they stumbled home through blacked-out streets and houses, avoiding vehicles with dimmed-out headlights, Britons were fast becoming used to the air raid wardens’ shouts of Put that Light Out! Giant posters appeared urging the populace to save, dig, work, buy War Bonds, not travel, not waste, nor spread rumours – all for victory!
The blackout was total, with
shops long since sold out of black curtain material. Householders were urged (Leaflet No2) to paint the edges of their windows black; even the slightest chink of light could lead to heavy fines.
Road deaths doubled, forcing the Government to ease vehicle lighting restrictions – headlamps had to be covered with cardboard with two-inch wide holes – and allow one headlight to be lit.
Commuters glowed an eerie blue in dimmed railway compartments, while unlit buses caused chaos to passengers and drivers alike, and trees had white-painted hoops so they could stand out. At least crime was minimal that month.
The war stripped the National Gallery of its treasures – gone to safe storage ‘‘somewhere in Wales’’ – but their place was taken by musical productions at theatres.
The troubled year of 1940 began with equal pay and conditions for male and female war workers but, for the first time since 1918, Britain faced food rationing, and in February the Government launched a nationwide anti-gossip campaign warning people of careless talk – ‘loose lips sink ships’ because ‘walls have ears’.
Mid-March saw the first football matches played as the wartime ban was lifted, but the next day the first British civilian died in an air raid, in Scotland. The Grand National still went ahead, the book of the moment was John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Unemployment fell below one million for the first time in 20 years, and a bill was introduced imposing the death penalty for sabotage.
In May 1940, after Neville Chamberlain had been totally and savagely discredited, Winston Churchill became Prime Minister with an all-party coalition government – but he had nothing to offer but ‘‘blood, toil, tears and sweat’’ apart from his determination about ultimate victory.
Parliament then rushed into law the most drastic constitutional measure known in British history; with the Emergency Powers Act it gave the Government practically unlimited authority over every person and all property throughout the land. They could now direct anybody to do anything required – without profit or gain – in the nation’s fight for survival and freedom, strikes were banned, as was the buying or selling of new cars.
The War escalates
The heat rose in August when the Luftwaffe carried out its first bombing raid on our capital, followed by night raids on 21 British towns and cities; the RAF shot down 144 out of 1,000 raiding German planes (losing only 27); and the first German plane was brought down over London. Churchill then scaled new oratorical heights while delivering another pep talk to the nation – in which he exuberantly and confidently reported on the state of war, paying a glowing tribute to the RAF pilots in the Battle of Britain – declaring ‘‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few’.’
Uncomfortable nights
However, renewed Luftwaffe bombing took place when Hitler’s long-awaited Blitz began – and not even Southport was spared during the savage overture. As we will graphically witness next week, Southport ceased being a bystander from September 1940 (until, as it turned out, July 1941), when death crossed our doorsteps!
Stiff Upper Lip
It was all pretty much a new experience for Sandgrounders, but Britain adapted to its ordeal with a stoicism which impressed foreign observers, particularly the Americans.
The war now meant safe but uncomfortable nights spent on crowded underground shelters and basements of various kinds – eventually emerging with an All Clear siren, but not knowing whether they had a home to go back to. And yet, despite the chaos across the land, the Brits’ stiff upper lip remained rigid, the country continued to function, with ‘Business as Usual’ a familiar sign, even in London and other big cities, like nearby Liverpool and Manchester.
Overstretched rescue services, including those scattered around our resort, were performing prodigious feats, burrowing deep into wrecked buildings to pull victims to safety. Southport’s Civil Defence Emergency Committee controlled some 3,000 voluntary workers, and a full-time force, in the early years, of nearly 360 men and women.
However, the bigger picture saw Southport – as in the First World War – extend hospital services for the benefit of the impending casualties of war, civilians as well as those embroiled in active service.
The town and its people, as elsewhere, showed bravery, courage and resourcefulness in continuing to live their lives in that dangerous and uncertain time.
While Bootle and Liverpool suffered heavily from air raids, one of Southport’s main roles was keeping the country’s children safe. But the town certainly did not get away from airborne attacks – and not just the one that is often rumoured, as will be shown next week.