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Don McDouall was evacuated from London during World War II when he was five years old. He was sent to the small country village of East Hanney to live with Grans and Grampy at a house called Tamarisk. He now lives in Australia.
East and West Hanney are situated in the Vale of the White Horse. More or less halfway between the ancient market towns known as Abingdon and Wantage. In 1939 both villages were sleepy hamlets. That is, until misguided politicians started World War II.
On the Friday before the war started a train pulled into Wantage Road railway station and after the steam and smoke subsided, it spewed out a large group of strange looking children from the city of London. Later on they just called them 'Evacuee's' or 'Londoners'.
Bewildered locals watched as these 'foreigners', these somewhat bedraggled, unfamiliar looking children were slowly dispersed amongst them. None realising at the time, that it would be many days hence, before tranquility would come again to the peaceful village's....if ever!
I, along with many other children, was evacuated from the London slums, (Grove road in Stepney), and along with thousands of other little London kids, would remember that particular Friday. It was to become a part of many people's memories.
I don't really remember actually getting on the train at St Pancras station. I remember the squawking busybody, the one with a very red face, who was puffing much like a choo choo train. I remember thinking 'were the large fat legs encased in thick brown 'lisle' stockings, really this same woman's legs?'
She held me tight by my shirt collar and went about making sure that I had my gasmask. It was squeezed into a square cardboard box and was hanging from my shoulders by a bit of itchy string.
I was pretty scared of all the hostile happenings and the strange people and I started to cry. Crying always made me sleep, so I did just that. When I woke the train had stopped at a station. Carriage doors were flying open, dogs were barking and there was a lot of steam. I got soot in one eye making it itchy, I rubbed it and it soon became painfully sore.
I found myself caught up in a throng of jostling kids. Everyone seemed to tower over me. The lady who had the thick legs had told me to hang on tight to my brown paper parcel, that contained all of my clothes, but I had let it slip to the carriage floor whilst asleep.
I stood empty handed, too hungry and too worn out even to cry anymore. I had got on the train with Esther, my big sister, but I couldn't find her anywhere. I looked and even called her name many times, but received no response, other then some 'shooshing' from the lady with the funny legs. I looked everywhere but my big sister Esther was gone.
A prim and rather pompous looking lady took me by the hand, which made me cry all over again. The lady 'shooshed' me and then shook me to no avail. Then in desperation the disheartened 'do-gooder' shoved a chocolate bar into my hand.
It smelt good so I started to 'scoff' it. It tasted fine, but it was a bit tough to chew. 'Oh you stupid little 'sod'! Haven't you seen a chocolate bar before?' the woman said. I was eating the chocolate bar, wrapper and all!
She tried to take the chocolate away but I screamed, which seemed to startle the woman so much, that she let go of the messy blue Cadbury's chocolate wrapper and I quickly swallowed the gooey mess right up.
Having been shoved and jostled off the platform we came to a car. It had no proper top like cars should have. I had never been in a car and didn't quite understand why there was so much fuss. Or why there were such frantic efforts, on the part of a lot of red-faced screaming grown ups, all hell bent in seizing numerous wailing kids and then stuffing them all into the confines of the back seat of the car.
It took quite some time and a lot of effort to get the ten or so howling kids onto the one back seat. I found myself on the car floor. It rumbled a lot and the dust from the scuffed carpet rose up in clouds, making me sneeze. I sat frozen with fear as the car continually lurched forward. Hanging grimly onto a strangely familiar stocking covered leg, each time the tortured gears were changed.
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