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I can’t remember much about the stay in
Chard, we were only there a couple of months. When Mum decided
to move on then we found ourselves in a small village three
miles out of Chard called Combe St Nicolas. I think it was done
through the W V S again, or the people who looked after evacuees
there.
So started the biggest childhood memory I
had, which lasted for the next three to four years. The first
people we stayed with, was dear Mr. and Mrs. Cole. We stayed in
their four bed roomed semi detached stone built house, next to
Mr. Coleman the farmer who Mr. Cole worked for. They must have
been in there sixties then. At the back of the houses was all
the farm out buildings (pig sty, milking shed chicken run the
lot) all milking was done by hand then. I milked my first cow
there. I think it was one building once and later converted to
two properties. You had to go round the back of the property to
get in, through the scullery, you stepped down from the door
onto the stone floor with a big open wood burner on one side of
the room (the whole building was built of stone). I think the
walls were a foot thick, it must have been built in the late
17th century. It was large inside two large rooms with the hall
and scullery and outside toilet downstairs, and four bedrooms
upstairs, plus wash room.
Mrs. Coles had the whitest hair I had ever
seen on a person, and to make ends meet she made toothbrushes at
home to earn money. I can see her now on a dark evenings sitting
at the front window, with a small wooden vice attached to the
table with a piece of wood in the vice, (the tooth brush
handle), with holes in one end, which she threaded small lengths
of horses hair through and tied to make the brush. I think she
got one shilling for 3 dozen, or five pence today's money, and
the only light she had to see what she was doing (on those dark
evenings) was an oil lamp, no electricity there. That applied to
the whole village. It was oil lamps or candles.
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The village then was small. It consisted of
one main street, about 400 hundred yards with the school and the
church plus village green plus the post office come general
store, at one end with a turning to the right, that led you to
Taunton 9 miles away. And running parallel with the main street,
a second street, on the right called the Underway with a couple
of other streets leading off into the countryside. That was
basically it, with a population of roughly 50 to 80 people all
told. Oh, I had forgotten one pub {the Green Dragon) the village
inn (The George) plus two other shops, the butchers and
greengrocer. The George was originally a coaching inn (coach and
horses) plus on the road to Taunton a Methodist Chappell for the
non-c of e s.
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We must have been at Mrs. Coles about six
months, when Mum decided as the blitz in London was quietening
down she should go home to Dad for a while. But first she had to
find other accommodation for Daphne and me, as the Coles were
too old to take care of two small children, which she did.
Daphne went to a lady who had three other evacuees all girls
called aunt Rita whose husband was at home as he was disabled he
was known as uncle Bert. So Mum went home. A certain Mr. and
Mrs. Walton heard of me (who also lived in the village). I was
put in temporary accommodation at the time. Being ex Londoners
themselves they decided to take me in, and that's what happened.
So began the best three to three and a half
years of my life. Let me explain. Nan and Granddad Walton, as I
will always remember them, they were in there late fifties at
the time. They had a house just behind the post office, just
down a small lane, the road is now called Knightshute. It had a
front garden of about 100 hundred feet in length, which is now
the middle house of the three on the right hand side of the
road, the one with the trellis over the front gate. In those
days it had a field each side of the house, one an orchard with
roughly 80 various fruit trees in it. The field the other side
had poultry and goats in it. The field and the orchard both
belonged to the house at that time.
The house consisted four rooms downstairs,
and, converted into a flat, four rooms and a wash room come
toilet upstairs There was also an outside toilet downstairs.
There was also a large barn come shed in the orchard. The whole
lot belonged to the house. If you had it now I am sure an estate
would have been built on it. But back to Nan and Granddad
Walton, living upstairs in the flat was their daughter Mae Smith
whose husband was away in the forces. I never ever saw him the
whole time I was their, with her two sons, Derrick about twelve
and Michael about my age seven, Granddad also had a dog, a
terrier called Beauty, a bitch. The first thing you noticed
about Derrick and Michael was their hair. Derrick had jet-black
wavy hair and Michaels was blond with tight wavy come curly hair
almost white. Derrick seemed to have mates of his own, so me and
Michael seemed to team up, but at first we, to put it mildly we
hated one another we could not get on. We must have always been
fighting. You must realize the evacuees and the local children
were always fighting. It happened in all villages and towns all
over the country then. The saying then was if anything went
wrong it must be those damned evacuees again.
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By this time back at Combe it was decided I
should start school again, after all that time away. But first
let me explain what school was like. It was a wooden building
consisting of one room; in the middle of the room a wood burning
stove for heat, plus roughly twelve desks (two children to a
desk) around the fire, and one large desk at the top of the room
for the teacher. Also roughly twelve to twenty pegs (for hanging
coats) and a sink in one comer for hand washing, plus two or
three cupboards. That was it. The one teacher had to
teach all ages from five to fourteen, plus all subjects, but
there was only fourteen of us children there that was it for the
whole village. It was next door to the church, and at the back
of the school a massive garden. Yes in the summer it was (even
there) dig your own, with the children as labourers. There was
more digging in the summer than writing. Plus four out of the
fourteen, my sister included, came from Aunt Rita's house, she
was strict with the girls, Aunt Rita I mean, (but she was very
good to the four girls).
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But back to me starting school again, that’s
where the school gang was formed, six boys who for instance
attacked the boys in the next village,Waddicombe (Ed note: the
author probably means Wadeford). We had to, they were German
spies, we fought a war across their local stream, one Saturday
morning, they one side of the stream and us six the other side
of the stream. Well it was not my lucky day one of their troops
threw a stone and caught my head right on the parting. Well our
gang took me home with blood running down my face, and as we
entered Combe (Id never seen him before) from out of the second
or third house into the village came this rather strange young
man, he must have been roughly 17 years of age. The other boys
seemed frightened of him and ran off, but Michael stayed with
me, he seemed very concerned about my cut, and kept pointing at
it, but his speech was very slurred and he seemed to dribble a
lot, 1 learnt latter he was what was known then as a Mongol
child) a down syndrome child But we found him harmless, his
mother came out to see what was going on and seeing my cut head,
took me inside her house and bathed and bandaged my head, (her
son never left my side). By the time we reached home Nan Walton's,
the blood from my cut had stopped flowing so she left it, but
kept it clean over the next few days with a dressing on. After
that episode me and Michael seemed to get on a lot better, and
the mongol boy always spoke to us, when he saw us, his mum was
pleased that at least a couple of boys did not always run away
from him.
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Of course the Land Army Girls took quite an
active part in harvest time. On one occasion three of them were
speaking to Michael and me about swimming. I don't now why, but
seeing as we couldn't swim invited us to go with them the next
time they went. So a couple of weeks later we found ourselves on
the back saddle seat of these bikes (behind these land army
girls) going through the country lanes, to this river, I cant
remember the name of it (the river I mean). I do remember it was
a hot day and the river was really in the heart of the country,
not another soul or building in sight. I also remember the
ladies had no costumes to put on as nature intended neither did
we, but that's how things were then it was the age of innocence.
After a while one of the young ladies had the
call of nature, so she went into the bushes to do what she had
to do. It must have been about ten minutes later we heard this
almighty scream from her. What had happened, she’d bent down
and had lent forward to pick some dock leaves to wipe herself
and lost her balance, and tipped into a bunch of stinging
nettles, bum first. Now if you've ever been stung by a nettle
you now how painful, it can be, but imagine you're whole rear
being covered in stings it must have been hell. I do remember
the other ladies helping her back into the water to see if the
cool water would help (we never learnt to swim). The problem was
she could not sit on her saddle so it meant pushing the bikes
and walking all the way home. We didn't arrive back in Combe
till evening time. Nan Walton was so annoyed she put us straight
to bed, no supper. After that episode we often saw the young
lady who got stung in or around the village, but the episode was
never mentioned. But she often had a wry smile on her face.
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Around about this time 1942 or 1943 the
American nation entered the war. Within a few months they
started sending their troops to Britain to be in place for when
they attacked the enemy Germans or Japanese. That meant all
along the south coast of Britain (including Devon and Somerset)
they set up their army camps for training. It seemed through a
child’s eyes they took over Chard in next to no time. As time
went on, as I've mentioned before, they took over one of the two
cinemas for their NAAF1 called the Rainbow Club in town. Their
camp was only a mile outside of town, but it had a very strange
atmosphere about it. Let me try to explain as an 8 year old
child (the whole thing I mean), if you went into Chard, one main
street with a few streets leading off, you would find White
American soldiers walking up and down the street, and on the
other side Black American soldiers doing the same thing but
never crossing the road to meet. Parked in the road or
travelling up and down countless jeeps (no petrol shortage
there). Our counter-part today would be a people carrier, all
painted in camouflage As an English child 1 didn't know anything
about ethnic problems then. But one thing was obvious the Yanks
(as they got to be known) compared with the British, had plenty
of everything. You name it they had it, whereas our soldiers
uniforms was a course heavy material the Yanks uniform was made
of the best herringbone material. They also had medals galore. I
think one was for cookhouse duties. But most of the British
troops were abroad at this time in Africa I believe, in the
Eighth Army fighting Rommell, under Field Marshall Montgomery,
the leader of the British troops.
But lets be fair the Yanks were very generous
people. They very rarely said no to anything. I remember one
Christmas they laid on a party for all the evacuee children in
the surrounding area at their Rainbow Club in Chard. First of
all they came and picked us all up in their jeeps, then took us
to the party (I've never seen so much food in one place) and
each child was assigned to a serviceman. Mine was a very large
black officer, Captain, I think. I didn't say earlier nearly all
the Americans, black or white were all large people compared
with us British, at least 3 to 4 stone heavier. But I digress.
Getting back to the officer that was designated to me, it turned
out he had just came back from London where he had spent his
last leave, and included in the present he (or they) gave me was
a photo of this American boxer called Joe Louis, or the Brown
Bomber as he was known. He was the heavy weight champion of the
world, and my officer had seen him in London on a good will
mission to the troops, (where he got the photo). I think it was
the first time I learnt about boxers. Amongst the presents was
this pile of American comics. I’d never seen anything like
them, they were so big and thick compared with our puny things.
Captain Marvel, Superman and Spiderman and in colour too, plus
more. All we had at the time was in the Daily Mirror the likes
of Jane, Ruggles, Garth and Johnny Belinda, for example. I
remember those comics lasted Mick Derrick and me months, we kept
on looking at them, and also I had so much food. I don't think I
ate for days plus sweets. It was great.
But the incidents with the Yanks didn't end
there. I remember a couple of months after the party, we caused
havoc in the village. I’ll tell you what happened. Well it all
started with Derrick. He and his mates were out on their bikes
when they found themselves at the back of the American camp, (at
the back of their firing range to be precise) just outside of
Chard. Well to cut a long story short Derrick brought back a
couple of empty gun shells and Granddad Walton got hold of them.
He took Derrick into the house, and took his belt to him, (he
thought he had been on to the firing range while they were
firing). Well Derrick had to get rid of the shells. It
transpires he threw them into the hedge down the lane, where me
and Michael watched him do it. So what did we do we reclaimed
them of course for our own pleasure. Now what will we do with
them? It was easy. We planted them upside down right in the
middle of the village green that night, looking like unexploded
bombs. Well the next morning just after we had started school,
all hell broke loose. It turned out that the landlady of the
George being right next to the village green came out and saw
the shells in the green and thinking they were bombs called the
only policeman in Chard who cycled out to Combe as fast as he
could, and took charge. He evacuated the school, we all had to
go behind the church, and also every one else whom he found in
Combe had to join us behind the church. Well he thought, as the
church walls were so thick, it was the safest place in case the
bombs went off.
By this time the American bomb disposal team
turned up as well, in their jeeps of course. Well you can guess
what was going on in two young boys heads by now, we thought if
they found out it was us, they would at least hang us (we
couldn't even look at one another). It didn't take long for the
Americans to find out that the objects were only empty shells,
so they took the Land Army girls into the George Inn for a few
drinks as they were there, but the policeman was a different
matter. He was really annoyed he rightly thought some one or two
children had got up to no good and seeing as there was a war on,
what a waste of time. He wanted to punish someone, but he left
without saying another thing. But Granddad who was also behind
the church wall with us was not amused he kept quiet, but when
we all got home that night he was furious. But what happened
next surprised us beyond belief. He took Derrick into the front
room (and as we learnt later) and took his belt to Derrick again
thinking it was him. Me and Michael never ever said a word on
the subject. Would you? But who do you think the villagers
thought were to blame. You've guessed it, those evacuees, well
they were half right.
By this time roughly mid 1943 it was decided
as it was so quiet in London, we would go home for a while, with
the understanding we’d come straight back, if the bombing
started again or any other trouble. Guess what, it was only
after a couple of weeks of this doodle bug thing that we found
ourselves on the train, back to Chard and then to Combe, me to
Nan and Daphne to aunt Rita's, we didn't even go to school in
London,
It wasn't long after we returned to Combe
that we noticed the American forces seemed to be very active.
Their camp in Chard seemed to be closing down and all their
equipment seemed to be moving out with them. There seemed to be
convoys moving out every day, It must have taken a couple of
weeks when they all seemed to have gone Little did we know but
it was happening all along the south coast where they were
camped What was really happening was all the troops
(including the British), were preparing to invade France by sea.
This was late 1943 to 1944, it was latter known as the Normandy
landings on the British side and the Omaha landings on the Yanks
side. There was a lot more troops from other nations who took
part on our side included in the invasions especially from the
Commonwealth countries as they were known then.
Even the Americans Rainbow club was converted
back to a cinema again after a time, I do remember a little
while after this event my parents coming down, to visit us once
more and taking us to Chard to go to the cinema. From that day
to this (I don't now why) I still remember what was on at both
cinemas, at one was For Whom the Bell Tolls, starring Bing
Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald and at the other cinema was Saratoga
Trunk starring Gary Copper and Ingrid Bergman, but I cant
remember which one we saw. Also on that visit to Chard we went
to the local tea shop come restaurant for tea and cakes It was
dead old fashioned the waitress wore a black and white outfit
with a small notepad and pen (to write down your order) and the
meal was served up all on a silver tray, and the tea and milk
and sugar were also all in silver bowls and pots, even the cakes
were on a silver plate. The nearest to it was, if I remember
rightly, was Lyons Corner House.
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About this time Derrick turned fourteen, and
at that age you left school then, and started work, which
Derrick did. I think his first job was in a nursery near Chard
as a trainee gardener. When he qualified one of the things
Michael and I couldn't understand at this time was he never had
any time for us two, even when he wasn't at work he always
seemed to be out (without us). So not to be outdone we decided,
one evening after tea to follow him at a discreet distant on our
bikes, which we duly did Well what materialized was completely
foreign to us we couldn't understand it at all, we followed him
right into Chard to the first cinema to be exact, where he
dismounted from his bike put it safely in the bike shed, then he
went up to this girl (come young lady) who seemed to be waiting
for him, put his arm around her waist, then they seemed to rub
noses or as we learnt later kissed her, then led her into the
cinema, where we lost them, as we had no money to go in. No
matter how hard we tried after that, Derrick was never the same
person, like the third musketeer we had always been used to, I
think you would call it adolescence or growing up on Derrick’s
part.
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One of the funniest things that struck me
then, was one of the shops in the village was a butchers, that
was the days before refrigeration. The counter was a marble slab
and so was the window counter, all you ever saw in the window
was white enamel trays with herbs around them, the nearest to
meat you ever saw there was, in the summer blue bottles and
flies, in the window, he must have at some time had some meat,
like corn beef or sausages but I cant remember ever seeing any,
When I look back at it, it was just like Corporal Jones premises
from the T V program Dads Army. The butcher there wore an apron
and straw hat and was about the same age, and he even had a
delivery bike (no van).
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I also remember the vicar at the chapel that
harvest time, at harvest festival services that year 1m sure he
was drunk, remember I told you all about the cider and cider
making earlier in the village, well the vicar was also a man and
1m sure he also liked to partake in said item, being also rather
elderly (in his sixties) 1 guess, after a few glasses of said
item he would tend to doze off for a few moments, that was okay
(but during his sermon from the pulpit,) I remember the
congregation coughing a lot to wake him up, and when he did wake
we would get an entirely different sermon, quite funny really
also I ‘m sure some of the fruit laid in front of the alter at
this time of year, went missing, ( an apple to eat while your
waiting for him to wake ).
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Other than that nothing much happened in
Combe at that time. Life went on very normally until one day in
June (this was 1945), when it seemed every bit of bunting people
could find and union jack flags, were put up across the main
street from tree to tree, and it also seemed every wireless was
played as loud as could be, from every house, what it all meant
was the war in Europe had ended. I think every one in the
village at one time or the other gave me a cuddle, they were
cuddling everyone all the time, though it was a very happy time
for most people, it didn't work out that way for me. What it
meant for me was I (like all other evacuees) was going home to
London for good. In their own way I don't think Nan and Granddad
wanted me to go either I had become in the true sense one of the
family. Though time then seemed to stand still, and I can not
remember what really happened in the next couple of weeks, maybe
subconsciously I tried to block it out as it was a bad time for
me, the only true memory I have is this grey morning getting on
this old coach with my suitcase, and saying a very tearful good
bye to Nan and the family in the village square where the coach
had parked, where all the evacuees got on the coach including
Daphne who said her good byes to Aunt Rita and family.
The End
The extracts above relate to Mr. Turner's
time as an evacuee in Combe. He sent his account of his war
years to the History Group but died shortly after in April 2005.
His widow kindly gave her permission for these extracts to be
recorded on the website.
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