Taking Care
Operation Pied Piper and the forgotten evacuated teachers of World War II
We’re delighted to have WWII evacuation expert Gillian Mawson join us this issue to tell the story of the teachers who looked after Britain’s relocated children
“The Teacher Touched Mum’s arm and said softly, ‘you can leave Them now, Mother, They’ll be safe with Me’”
During World War II, thousands of British teachers were evacuated with their pupils, yet we hear their stories far less often than those of child evacuees. Sadly the majority of teachers have now passed away, but their surviving diaries and private correspondence make their wartime memories all the more precious. These men and women took on a great responsibility. Cut off from their own families for the duration of the war, they not only educated the children in their care, but did their best to monitor their health and happiness. They visited local organisations such as the Women’s Voluntary Service and Red Cross, to ask for clothing for their pupils. Crucially, they provided hope and comfort to the children when they were homesick or emotionally distressed.
On 1 September 1939 the British government’s plans for evacuation swung into operation and millions of schoolchildren, teachers, mothers and infants were moved before war was declared on 3 September. In the weeks leading up to the evacuation, teachers had liaised with parents regarding the preparations for evacuation and carried out evacuation rehearsals in their schools. In her school log book, Maureen Brass described the preparations that were made for the evacuation of St Dominic’s Infants School, in London: “The week before the evacuation, we gave parents lists of what the children should bring with them, made labels showing their names, the name of the school and the school number. Ours was school number 0302. On the morning of September 1st 1939, the children assembled in school around 7.00am. The staff had arrived at 6.00am. At 8.00am we set out from the school, waved off by tearful mothers, grandmothers and others. The groups, Seniors, Juniors and Infants, with staff and helpers, walked in fours to Kentish Town West Station. We all boarded a train that was waiting for us and set out into the unknown.”
Mr A Wilshere was asked to prepare for the evacuation of pupils in Ilford, Essex and he made the following entries in his diary: “Friday, August 25 – Evacuation duty in Ilford has fallen to Mr Dinmore, Mr Bryce and me. My party, which will consist of children under five with their mothers, together with expectant mothers, will be known as a non-school party. It will number at least 650 and will go from Southpark School. Thursday, August 31 – We learnt that the government has ordered the evacuation to take place tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. I am going on Sunday – I know not where to. My party totals 800.”
Although some children and teachers were evacuated by coach or boat, the majority travelled to their billets by steam train. As a result, strong memories remain with them of emotional scenes at railway stations and their subsequent journeys into the unknown. When a large group of children from Hackney, London, boarded a train, their parents gathered to witness their departure. One of their teachers Miss Griffith, wrote in her diary: “Will any of us ever forget the departure, the route lined with sad but relieved parents?” In his memoirs, nine-year-old John Hawkins described the kindness of his teacher when his school was evacuated from Birmingham: “When my Mum,
sister and I arrived at school that day our teacher was marking names off a clip-board. The teacher touched Mum’s arm and said softly, ‘You can leave them now, Mother, they’ll be safe with me.’ Mum’s lips begin to tremble – she crouched down and kissed us tenderly on the cheek. Then on we children and teachers marched, past the houses, shops and factories that we all knew so well, from which poured housewives, factory workers, shop assistants, men and women, young and old, to loudly cheer us on our way. When we reached Tyseley station, we were swiftly but gently ushered into a compartment. Suddenly, everyone turned in amazement to see a frantic mother dash from the crowd and blindly force her way through the barrier onto the platform, to scoop her tiny, frightened daughter into her arms. She then ran, sobbing bitterly, from the station.”
Teachers also wrote about the arrival of their schools in the evacuee reception areas.
Mary Richardson taught at Cork Street School, Camberwell, and travelled with her pupils to Kent. Mary’s daughter, Fi Unwin, shared her mother’s story, saying: “Each teacher was assigned ten children and after a long train journey, we arrived at Sevenoaks where we were neatly put into cattle pens to be counted. We then caught another train and arrived at Brasted station, which is quite a distance from the village, so when we arrived at the church hall we were a sorry sight – tired, thirsty and afraid. Mothers came and chose us and I was seized upon by the lady at the village shop and bakehouse. We had promised to try to keep families together but with four Peabody girls and four Sparrowhawk boys, this proved impossible. Some of the younger children had wet themselves and their clothing was dirty, ragged and unsuitable. However, the Kent ladies were brilliant, extra clothing was found, menus were changed to accommodate townies who never ate ‘greens’ and cuddly toys were given to comfort the weepy ones.”
As described, evacuated teachers had to ensure that children who had left with just a small bag were properly clothed during their years away from home. Some teachers actually approached the local newspaper office to ask if they could place an appeal for clothing in the paper. A Cheshire newspaper printed the following appeal: “Boots and clothing for 90 boys are needed in Hale. These boys are in our midst through no fault of their own. Cash donations also welcome.” As a result of such appeals, local communities donated clothing and footwear to thousands of child evacuees. Teachers also approached the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS) to ask for clothing for their pupils. When Mr Percy Martel brought his pupils to Cheadle Hulme, Cheshire, he relied heavily on the help of the local WVS.
His diary entry for October 1940 shows that the weather had become much colder and he was anxious about the children’s clothing: “Today we all had to spend hours in the school air raid shelter, a wet, slippery muddy lake and the roof is leaking. To take children from a warm school into such an atmosphere is scandalous and with, as yet, no winter clothes.” Luckily the ladies of the WVS came to the rescue. They quickly organised several fundraising events and were able to supply
the evacuees with warm clothing. Mr Martel praised the WVS in his diary: “The work done and the sympathy extended to us by these ladies is indeed marvellous. As our troubles increase, their sympathetic support and kindness seem to attain greater heights.”
When Wimbledon Central school was evacuated by train to Chichester, the children were immediately put onto buses. However, four of the buses were accidentally sent to a completely different destination. One of the teachers, Mr C
Lee, recorded this event in his school log book and on 5 September he wrote: “Continued to check the houses where our pupils have been billeted. Children very happy but bewildered. I then went to the evacuee distribution centre to find the exact destination of the other four buses but no news.” He spent two full days visiting local officials before he finally discovered the whereabouts of the rest of his pupils.
When the children arrived at their new billets, their teachers told them that they must write their new address on a postcard and send it, together with a short message, to their parents.
The teachers suggested messages which would cheer up worried parents, such as: “Dear Mum and Dad, am living with nice people. Don’t worry about me.” However, this had tragic consequences for one little boy and his family. He left his new billet, placed his postcard, with the above message, in the letter box then went for a walk. Sadly he fell into a canal and drowned. His family were advised of his death that evening, but two days later, his postcard with its poignant little message arrived at their home.
There is a common misconception that most evacuees were sent from poor urban housing to the countryside where the facilities were far superior. Even today, some people still assume that all evacuees came from inner city slums, were dirty, had head lice and were not house trained. Gateshead teacher Jessie Hetherington talked about the poor facilities that she and her pupils had encountered in Bishop Auckland: “We were welcomed warmly by our prospective hosts and, after distribution to our new homes, a long day ended. Mine was to a village comprised of long rows of pit houses with outside ‘netties’ (toilets) and very few bathrooms. Saturday was spent seeing that the children were settling in. They had all come from a new housing estate where every house had an indoor toilet and bathroom, but here most were housed in homes without either – as I was. The kindness of most of the hosts made up for the lack of amenities.”
From May 1940, further waves of evacuation occurred in Britain when Germany invaded Belgium, Holland and France. Now children from the south and east coasts of England were moved inland to safety. A House of Commons report shows that one MP declared, “In the weeks that lie ahead, none of us knows whether he may not be evacuated from some place which at the moment appears to be quite safe!” Then, on 20 June 1940, around 25,000 Channel Island children and teachers were evacuated to England, just days before their islands were occupied by Germany. Mrs Marjorie Atkins’ diary described the evacuation of her pupils from Amherst Girls’ School in Guernsey: “News came through at about 9pm that things were getting very dangerous and that a ship was on its way to fetch us and we must be back at school by 3am! By now most of the children were in bed whilst their parents were making the necessary arrangements. Gradually, wide-eyed sleepy girls came with bewildered parents and we had to tick them off on our list as they arrived.”
Britain sent ships of all descriptions, including coal barges and mail boats, to transport the children and teachers across the English Channel to Weymouth. After they disembarked, they were taken into the Pavilion Theatre where they received tea and sandwiches, gave their personal details and underwent a brief health check. In 1975, Guernsey teacher Miss Grace Fry shared her story with the Guernsey Retired Teachers Association: “We had only been in Weymouth for a few minutes when an air raid took place. My pupils and I were pushed out of the building onto a bus then, to my horror, the driver locked the door and disappeared. After an hour, I thought, ‘Well, this is the end, if a bomb falls on us, I hope it happens quickly!’ Then the driver unlocked the door and said ‘Out!’ We were then sent to the railway station. Young soldiers began to push the children onto a train, then suddenly this big Major came out of the darkness, and said ‘Madam will you go on with your children?!’ and I said
‘But where?’ Well, the train started to move, and a young Lieutenant came running down the platform, grabbed my hand and said ‘Can you run?’ and we set off at a terrific lick! A steward appeared at the open train door and this young soldier pushed me into his arms, and then off we went. We were sent to Pollokshields, Glasgow, where one of the volunteers asked me if my group were Belgian!”
It may appear strange that Channel Island evacuees were sent to the industrial towns and cities of northern England and to Glasgow but the only railway lines available at that time led straight into those areas. Few evacuees were given any idea of their final destinations, despite the efforts of the teachers to obtain information. Guernsey teacher Alec Rose explained: “I repeatedly asked the guard about our destination and was eventually told, ‘You’re going to Oldham
“it was a huge responsibility for Those adults, in full Time charge of 200 boys”
– and God help you!’ The guard was referring to a town of coal pits and slag heaps.” The Channel Island evacuees relied very heavily on the care and guidance of their teachers as they were totally cut off from their own parents for five long years.
Although many of Britain’s evacuees received loving care from their wartime foster parents, others did not. Children endured physical and mental cruelty at the hands of unsuitable hosts because billets were not fully vetted before children were placed there. Luckily, some children were ‘rescued’ from these terrible situations because their teachers noticed their unhappiness, or observed bruises and marks. Peggy and Betty White were evacuated to Oxford with their teachers and lived very happily in the home of a local couple, Mr and Mrs Murphy. However, when Mrs Murphy was due to have a baby, the girls had to move out. Peggy recalled that their next billet was very different:
“We moved in with Mrs Fisher who turned out to be the most wicked woman we had ever met. From the very next day we were beaten and made to do all the housework before going to school. We had to get up at five each morning and we were sent to bed as soon as we got in from school. As an extra punishment we would be shut, one at a time, in a dark coal-shed all night. We lived there for about a year, which to us seemed like forever. One day Betty’s teacher, Mrs Payne, saw the terrible bruises on her. She questioned us both, and we said that Mrs Fisher would kill us if we ever told anyone. Mrs Payne took us back to the house and told us to pack our belongings while she had words with Mrs Fisher. Then we all left. As we walked along the road in the gathering dusk, Mrs Payne said, ‘Where would you like to live most of all?’ Betty and I cried in unison, ‘With Mrs Murphy.’ She replied, ‘That’s just where we are going.’ We skipped the rest of the way there. Mrs Murphy cried when she saw us and so did we.”
In some cases, schools were evacuated to openair camps in the countryside. When Derby School was evacuated to Amber Valley Camp in 1940, the accompanying teachers became full time ‘foster parents’ to 200 boys. Elisabeth Bowden shared her story with the Derby Evening Telegraph: “My father was headmaster of Derby School and Mother and I moved into the camp with him. We lived in a bungalow whilst the pupils and the other teachers were billeted around the camp in wooden huts. It was a huge responsibility for those adults, in charge of 200 boys. Mother had a petrol allowance because she drove the emergency vehicle. Several times she had to take boys with broken arms and that sort of thing, to the hospital.”
It is clear that, during the war, the teachers who remained with their evacuated pupils carried a huge burden of responsibility. Miss Grace Fry’s life was completely changed by her experience of caring for 100 children. In a 1975 interview for the Guernsey Retired Teachers’ Association, she stated: “It was the evacuation that decided me, I wasn’t going to have children, because I had had enough with all that during the war.” The child evacuees have never forgotten the care they received from their teachers. John Davis told me: “My memory is of the unfailing kindness of the staff at a time when their own personal lives must have been under great stress, as well as the responsibility of teaching and caring for such a large number of children in very difficult circumstances.”
“i wasn’t going To have children, i had had enough with all That during The war”