An Evacuee in Devon

Memories of an Evacuee in Devon

I was born in 1933, and was six years old when the war broke out. I was firstly evacuated in Cambridgeshire, then when the blitz was more or less over, returned to London in 1943 to take the LCC County Minor Scholarship, which I passed, and obtained entry to Haberdashers’ Aske’s Grammar School, Hatcham. Because of the Flying Bomb menace most of the school was evacuated to Teignmouth, so at the age of 11, I started my new school in September 1944 as a ‘boarder’ in Devon. My father, who was in the army, was allowed leave to settle me in.

My first ‘billet’ was in Powderham House, in Powderham Terrace, right on the seafront. The house had previously been occupied by American troops — the Seabees — the Construction Branch of the Marines; I remember their logo over the fireplace in the main dining room, where we also assembled for our evening ‘prep’. Other boys were billeted in another hostel in Paradise Road, and with families around town. Our schooling was carried out in ‘Mount Pleasant’ on Exeter Road — now the community college. It, too, had been in use by the military, as a hospital, and upper floor windows had wooden chutes outside, for lowering stretchers in an emergency.

I had an opportunity recently to look over the building when the students gave a performance of a Shakespeare play one evening, and there was much about the building which I remembered from 1944, particularly the staircase.

I don’t remember much about the harbour then, as I expect the warships there were so familiar after five years of war not to excite much attention, but I remember catching the ferry across to Shaldon fairly often — it was cheap enough then to be affordable out of my meagre pocket money. Once we were sent off to pick wild blackberries so that the cooks could make jam, but mostly it was to scramble around the rocks at the foot of the Ness. The ferry now looks much as it did then.

Also the beach had anti-landing craft defences made out of scaffolding, all along the waterline, and partly submerged at high tide. It projected right out into the river mouth, narrowing the entrance right down. A group of us boys used to climb out onto the scaffolding right over the river an try fishing from a platform we had built from extra poles. I shudder at the thought now, because few of us could swim, and even if we could, the currents there are notoriously dangerous.

The school had access to the sports ground at Milford Park, off Bitton Park Road for Rugby and Cricket. For a short cut back to Powderham Terrace we used to nip across the wall and walk along the railway track to the Old Quay, keeping a lookout for the express trains with their King class locomotives, which would thunder through, making the ground shake.

To keep us out of mischief by making sure we were occupied most of the time, we had to go to school on Saturday mornings, as well. Most of the activities weren’t too bad, but the one I loathed was to be sent on a cross-country run up to Haldon Moor and back. Those who know the hill will understand why the announcement was greeted with groans.

During that winter there was a very heavy snowfall, so we had a snow fight between the lower school and the upper. Also we all trooped off to Haldon Moor (willingly this time) to slide down the hillsides and generally make the most of the snow. I also remember some fierce storms that winter, and struggled across the den to sit on the beach watching the rollers breaking on Brunel’s sea wall, with the spray whipping up as high as the cliff tops.

Although the danger was still there, we were sent home to London for school holidays; I remember the excitement of the train journey each way, specially the magnificent views from Exeter onwards. We boys frequently walked along the sea wall or the beach, at low tide, as far as Sprey Point, and the Parson and Clerk; some of the braver even going through the tunnel. Once we walked all of the way (by road) to Dawlish Warren, which was then in use as a training range for ground attack aircraft (Typhoons?); some of us found spent 20mm cannon shells and kept them as trophies.

The end of the war was welcomed by a great bonfire at the hostel in Paradise Road, with extra food which the cooks somehow managed to scrape together. We did not return home immediately, but completed the school year as evacuees. Our school had received a direct hit on the dining hall, with much blast damage all around, so the first couple of years back in London were unsettled as rebuilding and repairs were done.

Apart from one or two minor incidents, my memories of Teignmouth are almost entirely happy ones; now that we have come to live in the West Country, it is one of our favourite places for a day out.

September 2003

Kenneth Munday,
1, Beaumont Close,
Liverton,
Newton Abbot,
Devon,
TQ12 6UR
01626 821991

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.