Memories Buried In Their Minds, For Ever and Ever.

Memories buried in their minds, for ever and ever.

Liverpool: Meols: Farndon- North Wales: Tripoli- Libya and Marsa Matruh- Egypt.

I have recently gone back to further education at Fazakerley DISC for English and computers. I am in my third year now, and if it were not for my tutor, Gwyn, I would not be writing this letter.

It was Gwyn, who told me and other students about your site during one of our lessons. It was a very interesting subject, and as part of the lesson we all had to find a story to put on your site.

I was not born until five years after the Second World War. “Thank God,” and have no memories of my own to tell. The only thing I could do to get a story to send to you, was by asking my parents what it was like.

When I was young my mum and dad used to tell us thing about the war but when you are young you don’t really want to know, it was just boring and besides you can’t really take in what they are on about. Now that I am older, and this topic has been brought to my attention, I find it really fascinating and want to know what my parents had to go through during those terrifying times.

After leaving my English lesson I went to my mum and dads and told them about my lesson and your site. I asked them if they could help me compose a story to send to you. I sat down with them for a couple of hours and listened to them tell me some of their memories of what had happened to them during WW2.

I had some writing paper with me and started to jot things down. I started with my mum first. My mothers name is Ellen Jervis, maiden name Hibbert, born, 22/11/1928. She was about 11 or 12 years old during the blitz in Liverpool. She went to Penrhyn Street School and lived in Gordon Street. She was evacuated to Meols on the Wirral and then later moved to Farndon in North Wales.

I asked, “Who took you there and was anybody else with you?”
She said, “I was with my brother Tommy, my school friend, Joan Jenkins, and our teacher from Penrhyn Street School.”

I asked; “How did you travel there?
She said, “We got the train from Lime Street Station with lots of other children and teachers. When we reached Meols, families were waiting to pick us up.”

I asked, “Do you remember their names?”
She replied, “We stayed in Meols for a couple of weeks, but I can’t remember who with. Later we were moved to a place called Farndon in North Wales. The family we stayed with was Mr. and Mrs. Sheffield. They were in their mid twenties and they had a seven year old daughter that they called Paddy, although I think her real name was Patricia. They lived in a big private house and it was on a main road. I can’t remember the name of the road because it was so long ago, but I do remember a big field that was facing the house. It was full of strawberries and we used to go picking them.”

I asked, “What was the family like and were they good to you?”
“Yes,” she said, “They really looked after us and we got well fed. I think they were well off because Mrs. Sheffield used to wear evening dresses, dress shoes and lots of costume jewellrey. Sometimes, when they were out, me and my friend used to dress up with her clothes on. We had some good laughs.”

I asked her, “What was it like being away from your family?”
She said, “It wasn’t too bad because I was with my brother and my friend, so it was like a big adventure with us being so young and, besides, my mum and dad came to visit us a few times. I remember them bringing me a birthday cake for my 12th birthday. Another thing that I remember was a man called Mr. Cloughes, who owned a dairy in Liverpool. The dairy was at the bottom of Elias Street just of Great Holmer Street. Mr. Cloughes sent one of his employees all the way to Farndon with my bicycle on the back of one of his wagons for me. I will never forget how kind some people can be.”

I asked, “How long were you there?”
She said, “I’m not too sure, but I think it was about 12 months to 18 months. Then we returned to Liverpool once the bombing had stopped”
I am sure there are a lot more memories buried in her mind, but it just needs something to trigger them off.

Memories buried in their minds, for ever and ever.

Liverpool: Meols: Farndon- North Wales: Tripoli- Libya and Mursa Matru- Egypt.

Part Two: About my dad, Alfred Ernest Jervis.

My dad was born in Liverpool on 23/04/1926. He lived at 83 Robsart Street with his Mother, Lizzy Jervis, maiden name Gemmell, Father, William Jervis, two brothers, George and Tommy, and two sisters, Nellie and Jean.

I asked my dad, “What was it like when you were young during the blitz?”
He said, “I was working in a factory called the British Enka, which was later taken over by a firm called Courtaulds. It was a horrible place to work. They used to store coffins there. I had a friend, whose name was Frank Thompson, who worked there with me. We used to hide in the coffins for a laugh. I worked there for about two years, and then I left to volunteer to join the Royal Navy.”

I asked, “Did you see any bombs drop?”
He said, “One hit our house while my mum was in bed. The ceiling came down and she was covered in soot but wasn’t seriously hurt. I also remember being blown down a cellar by the blast from one of the bombs. I was taken to the Royal Women’s Hospital and treated for cuts and bruises. Another thing I remember is, after the all clear siren had gone, we came out of the air raid shelter that we were in and I saw a man leaning against a door with his head blown off. Some of the houses in our street got a direct hit and were on fire.”

I asked, “Were your brothers in the forces?”
He said, “My eldest brother George, was in the army, and was stationed in Tripoli, Libya. He was captured by the Germans in a place called Marsa Matruh which is in Egypt. They put him in a concentration camp called Stalag something. I can’t remember the full name. My other brother, Tommy, was in the Air Force and was stationed in Egypt. He was a Leading Air craftsman. While over there he was blown up by a land mine when they were traveling back to base camp in their Land Rover, but he survived. I can still remember our Ministry of Defence numbers. Mine was DJX 679384, my brother George’s was, 4458489, and our Tommy’s was LAC 1537390.”

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