My War - A Memoir by Monnica Stevens Part One

PART ONE

August 31st 1939 was the official “Evacuation Day” for schools, but our evacuation day was Friday, 1st September. My parents, myself (aged all but twelve) and sister (nearly five) lived in a Victorian vicarage in Wimbledon Park, South London where my father was the vicar.

I was already due to go to a small private boarding school in Eastbourne on 21st September. My parents decided to take my sister and me by car to the school on 1st September.

War was declared on 3rd September and all the pupils who had joined the school early trooped down to the shelter when the air raid alarm sounded. We just sat there for quite some time; nothing happened and eventually the “all clear” signal came and normal life resumed. We now had to carry our gas masks whenever we went out of doors.

In London my parents had no live-in domestic staff, my mother took over the cooking for the first time in her life and managed very well indeed. She was a doctor and at first only continued her Maternity and Child Welfare Clinics, but in 1942 she undertook School Medical Inspections over a wide area. They did have daily help, which was most fortunate as there were five bedrooms, three reception rooms and several domestic rooms, together with (luckily) a cellar.

That Autumn term schoolwork continued normally, the main trouble was with the blackout of houses, no lights were to be seen from the outside. Not easy in the school, but very difficult in London where my parents struggled with windows 10 feet high — several rooms were abandoned completely for the duration of the war. By early December none of the expected air raids, which had been the reason for the evacuation, had taken place and it was decided that all the pupils could go home. My sister and I had to get accustomed to going round the house in virtual darkness. Rationing of food began while we were at home and, to begin with, the allowances were very generous. Everyone was issued with an identity card and mine was EHAC 89 39, adults had to carry theirs at all times. There was no street lighting at all, and car lights had special hoods over them and small bulbs. Walking a night was difficult, especially when there was no moon.

Whilst we had been away at school all the empty houses in the vicinity were requisitioned for the army. The first soldiers were Welsh Guards, and when they came to church en masse their singing was magnificent to hear.

School began again in January and everything was quiet, as far as London and the South East of England was concerned, regarding air raids. Easter came and, again, we were allowed home. On returning to school we soon realised that the “phoney war” was over. First Denmark and Norway were invaded, followed shortly thereafter by Holland and Belgium, then France was invaded and the situation changed radically.

After the evacuation from Dunkirk the school authorities realised that France would soon be occupied and Eastbourne on the south east coast of England was not a suitable place for the school. All the pupils were sent home for two weeks and the Headmistress scoured the country for a suitable place for the school. We were informed of the move to Bettws y Coed in North Wales and assembled in Central London and travelled by coach through the whole of England and Wales, going past Leominster and Oswestry, arriving late and tired at a private hotel which the Headmistress had taken over. It was called Craig y Dderwin and it was a beautiful place with a river running through the grounds and surrounded by wonderful scenery.

Once in the new building we settled down to classes, but there was a much less rigid discipline than in Eastbourne. My class was held in the “Bar”. Our dormitories each held only four girls, which we all appreciated. The war news got worse and worse; the bombing of Coventry and the blitz on London began. During the “Battle of Britain” girls with homes in London and the South East had not been able to go home and along with them my sister and I remained in Wales. The local doctor lived next door to our premises and whenever he went on trips to the outlying villages to see patients he would take any three of us with him, one sitting beside him in the car and the remaining two in the “dicky” seat at the back — I went on many of these journeys, not all the others were interested.

When the bombing on London got worse and worse my parents had their beds set up in the wine cellar of the vicarage and slept there for months. In Wales it was very quiet and my mother came up to see us for a week. We two sisters were very happy there and could not understand our mother’s nervousness when the occasional plane flew over.

By early December 1940 it was obvious that we could not go home to London for Christmas. The Blitz on London was at its height, so, once again, the school remained open. Our father and mother got permission to drive the car from London to Wales and the four of us went to Llandudno for five days. I do not remember what we did there; it was two weeks before Christmas and already cold weather. My sister and I shared a double bed and I seem to remember that we slept with our overcoats on top of us. Normally Llandudno was a summer holiday resort and no provision was made for winter visitors.

My sister and I returned to school for the Christmas holidays after the short break. As the Easter holidays approached it was felt that we could go home, as it seemed the Blitz was over. Although there were nights of bombing it was not on the previous scale. Easter at home was peculiar, my sister had her bed in our outer wine cellar and I had mine under the stone cellar steps, however, there was a window behind my head and two rickety bookcases full of books on both sides of my bed. The metal security gratings over the cellar were removed and orange boxes placed so that we could climb out if the building coming down on top of us blocked our other exit. My father had to notify the Air Raid Warden how many of us were sleeping in the house and our position in the building.

There had been a most severe bombing raid on the City of London on 28th December 1940, people were away for a Christmas break and because all the offices were locked the fire fighters could not get in to fight the fires and whole streets and some churches were burnt to the ground. On 16th17th April, while we were still at home, there was the worst bombing centred on the City of London since December when many people had been killed, this time 1,750 people died. Wimbledon Park was far enough away from the City that we were not affected and did not hear too much.

Holidays over my sister and I returned to school in Wales and everything was going well, but then the news came through that the Army was going to requisition the premises. The Headmistress said she could not face another search for alternative accommodation and the school would close at the end of July. We never heard to what purpose the Army put the place, it certainly was not suitable for a hospital, nursing home or convalescent home as it had no lift and there was a ground floor and two floors of bedrooms. In the meantime there was another final and heaviest raid of all on the City of London and the casualties amounted to 1,450.

So schooling in Wales ended and my sister and I returned home to London.

The conclusion to Monnica's story is written in Part Two

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