Evacuees - Episode 1 Operation Pied Piper

My family are living in Canning Town, in the East End of London, close to the Royal Docks. It's late summer, 1939 and rumours are rife about an impending war with Germany.

The government are encouraging families to send their children out of London, in anticipation of heavy bombing once war is declared. The children would be taken to safe areas far away from the city, but for security reasons parents would not be informed where or when.

"Rathbone Market Song" - vocals - Ron Gletherow & Doug Scott

"Do The Right Thing" - vocals - Ron Gletherow & Amy Caldwell

"Where Are The Children" - vocals - Amy Caldwell

"No Time To Wave Goodbye" - vocals - Doug Scott

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:57

In September nineteen thirty-nine, Britain declared war on Germany. With the intention of breaking the morale of the British people, Hitler decided to begin bombing Britain's major cities, thus forcing Churchill to negotiate. The campaign, however, had the reverse effect, bringing the people together to face a common enemy. The evacuation of Britain at the beginning of World War II, often referred to as Operation Pied Piper, saw the displacement of 1.5 million children, pregnant women, and vulnerable people, two-thirds of which came from London. Evacuees is the story of one such family.

SPEAKER_06 2:29

February to be precise. But neither paid well enough to keep us from being hungry sometimes. Mrs. Henry from downstairs would sometimes bring us up some stew, claiming she'd made too much. Which wasn't true, but we were grateful for those acts of kindness. People were like that in those days. Times were hard, but they were about to get a lot harder. Britain was on the verge of war with Germany at that time, but I was blissfully unaware of that. I was after all just a few months old. For my parents and my sisters, though, it was a completely different story.

SPEAKER_10 3:57

My name is Wally Glevereau. My wife Edie and I have four children. Three girls, Violet, Edie and Sheila, and the youngest boy, George, who's still just a baby. We live in Ordnance Road, Canning Town, part of London's East End, close to the Royal Victoria and Albert Docks. It's what you might call a rough and ready neighbourhood, but the people are hardworking and proud. It's the summer of 1939, and I was on my way to work, passing by Rathbone Market. Rathbone Market's been around for hundreds of years. Colourful awnings protect vendors selling everything from parasols to potatoes. And they set up early in the morning. I was up earlier than usual since once again I found I couldn't sleep. Along the way, I bumped into an old friend, Frank, the local policeman, on early shift, walking the beat. Now I should point out that this is very much the age of the local Bobby on the beat. Everyone knows Frank. He's part of the local community. A friend rather than an imposing figure of authority. Although it paid not to mess with him, as some have found out the hard way. Frank and myself have been pals for a long time and have a mutual respect for each other. So anyway, this morning we struck up a conversation, both of us concerned about what had dominated the news over the past few months. And the subject soon turned to events taking place across Europe. How tensions were growing so fast, and the inevitability of war with Germany. How's it going, Frank? Mind if I tag along for a bit? Don't mind at all, Wolf.

SPEAKER_08 5:52

Nice to have a bit of company. They'll help me take my mind from my bloody corns. They're playing me up again.

SPEAKER_10 5:58

Oh, sorry to hear that, Frank. Anyway, seems like it's gonna be a nice morning again.

SPEAKER_08 6:04

Been a pretty nice summer all round, Wolve. Well, at least we've had some decent weather to take our minds off all the bad news that's been flying around. I think this madman Hitler wants to own all of Europe, and it's getting closer every day. Never you heard the latest about this rationing lark. They reckon we could be rationing food as soon as the war gets started.

SPEAKER_10 6:23

Won't make much difference to me, Frank. We can't afford to sit all anyway these days.

SPEAKER_08 6:28

I'm with you there, Wal. Times are pretty hard. Still, looks like the stall holders are still optimistic. They're all out early this morning.

SPEAKER_10 6:43

Yeah, I suppose it must be hard for them too, trying to make ends meet. Their profit margins must be getting smaller and smaller.

SPEAKER_08 6:50

Rap is in their blood wall. Most of them have stores here going back generations. It's more of a way of life for them. And for us too, I mate. I suppose Rappa Mark is a bit of an institution. Oh yeah, come around the back of the way, somebody went up there, went on. If you well as many a tale of fathers and son of the market standing here, of long gone days of dreams and hope, and people of good cheer. Tell me about it, Frank. For as long as I can remember, it's been a busy place, but now war is coming. I wonder, will it still be the case?

SPEAKER_10 7:52

Almost every single day.

SPEAKER_08 7:56

You won't get much from your ration book if Hitler gets his way. That's right, it's bad enough. Us being skinny. Ration is no joke. No, you won't get much with your ration book when we're already broke. Red bone market Been there since gold comes when Red Bone market has claimed as already fame. Red Bone Market, and if you'd like a cabin tea.

SPEAKER_10 8:40

If you go down random and it's quite never you and me with its flowery curtain it tappers again. Oh that don't have a match, but you know the time to run.

SPEAKER_08 8:49

Moody starts forever, and all it's fire mash. Well, we ain't got much, but it costs nothing to look for. Oh, you won't get much when you wrap it book when you go to red phone market. Red phone market. Always there, just like an old friend. Red phone market, it's a symbol of the old each day. Red phone market. Well I think we can both agree. When you're going down rapping and it's waiting for you and leave There's jelly deals are fruit between sellers than their wines. So they're working near the best part of the lights. You won't get much if it that gets its way. Food of being shorter by every single day. It's a black selling elastic for a tannery yard.

SPEAKER_10 10:02

That's the morning.

SPEAKER_07 10:04

And you know the times are odd when you go to red phone market. Red phone market.

SPEAKER_08 10:11

It's gonna be red foam market. Red phone market, if you'd like a cup of tea. It's a nice little cabin if you go down rappy and it's waiting for you and me. Red found market.

SPEAKER_10 10:31

Always there, just like an old friend.

SPEAKER_08 10:35

Red foam market, it's a symbol of the old each day. Red bum market. Well, I think we can both agree. There's a nice little cabin when you go down rabbit, and it's waiting for you and me. There's a nice little candy when you go down rabbit, and it's way never you and me.

SPEAKER_10 10:59

Well Tom always had enough to work. All this talk of war and the government saying how we need to get the children out of London. I tried to shut it out and concentrate on maintaining some sort of normality. But every day it seemed to be getting closer. I tried not to mention it to Edie, but I know it'd been playing on her mind too. I decided that tonight we'd have to talk about it. We couldn't put it off any longer.

SPEAKER_01 12:09

Hello, love. How's your day been? Any more talk about in overtime? I know we need the money, but you couldn't do with some rest of, especially after that burn. I do wish you'd tell your boss to buy some better gloves. Ones that come up to your elbow.

SPEAKER_10 12:26

Oh, it's fine. No need to worry. No more news about overtime. A bit like everything else these days.

SPEAKER_01 12:39

What's that well? You're saying quiet. Is there anything else here?

SPEAKER_10 12:44

No, really, I'm fine.

SPEAKER_01 12:51

What do you mean? You heard anything?

SPEAKER_10 12:54

No, but it seems like something big is about to happen. I'm thinking getting closer.

SPEAKER_01 12:59

It's funny, I just knew you were thinking about the evacuation. Yeah. I know, it's been on my mind too. Every day I send the kids to school, and I can't stand thinking about the idea of them not coming home one day. You do know it's purely voluntary, don't you? Well, we don't have to allow the government to send them out to Lord knows where, into some stranger's care. I can't go about my life if I can't see their faces each day. They're mine. They need their mum. How would they cope without us? All the things I'll miss out on, reading to them at night. I won't sleep if someone else reads to them. Really? I don't know if I can do this.

SPEAKER_10 13:42

We have to make a decision pretty soon enough.

SPEAKER_01 13:45

Well, let's just wait until we hear more. Mr. Trangling will let us know in plenty of time. He's only a suggestion right now. There's nothing definite yet.

SPEAKER_10 13:53

We can't read. We have to talk about it.

SPEAKER_07 14:51

I always try to be sure and think of what's best for all of us. At least it starts out that way. But now this time it seems it don't make no sense at all. It seems so hard to do the right thing.

SPEAKER_02 15:35

So intense, so can they ask me to do what no mother should have to decide? I know the danger is near, and the children will need to be kept away from home. But it seems so hard to do the right thing. But what if it's cold and they start to get sick? I'm sure there'll be people around to take care.

SPEAKER_07 16:31

Make sure that she's fine.

SPEAKER_02 16:34

But I won't be there, and I won't be able to help them.

SPEAKER_07 16:43

We can't keep them here. We don't have a choice.

SPEAKER_02 16:49

But I won't be there. But how can we send them where?

SPEAKER_11 17:30

Well, it seems so hard to do the right thing. It seems so hard to do the right thing, I'm sorry, I'm not sure.

SPEAKER_01 18:10

Maybe it won't happen. Maybe something can be done to prevent another war.

SPEAKER_10 18:15

Yeah, I suppose you're right. But we do need to be prepared though. Whatever that means. So we made our decision. Probably one of the hardest decisions we'd ever have to make. But we both agreed we just couldn't risk our children's lives when the bomb started to fall. So we worked out a routine. Mum would make them all up a packed lunch, usually just a sandwich and an apple, for them to take to school each day. She used the sewing machine to make small rucksack-style bags out of old pillowcases in which she'd put a change of clothes for them. Off the kids would go to school every morning, then, like me, she'd spend the day tormented with worry until they came home again in the afternoon. The authorities had decided to keep everything hush-hush for security reasons. None of us knew when or where the children would be taken. We couldn't know ahead of time when they'd actually be evacuated because word might leak out to the Nazis. And we couldn't know where for the same reason. All arrangements were last minute. This uncertainty went on for some time. Until the fateful day arrived.

SPEAKER_04 19:57

What? Where are they taking them? Canningtown station. They're taking them to Canningtown Station. Looks like they're off out of London now. What? No, no, oh no.

SPEAKER_05 21:08

Looks like you're about to pass out.

SPEAKER_01 21:11

They're gone. I'm too late. They're gone. I just wanted to say goodbye and tell them everything would turn out alright and that they'd be home again soon.

SPEAKER_05 21:20

Oh my god, what a pity you missed them. But you weren't the only mum that did. All the kids look fine, a little scared, but excited too. Don't you worry. The teachers were with them. Come and sit down, love. I'll make a cup of tea.

SPEAKER_01 21:34

No, I can't. I have to get home. I have to tell Wow. I have to tell my husband. Oh, Wally, where are you when I need you?

SPEAKER_10 21:55

There you are.

SPEAKER_02 22:57

Has been the day I always feel the day the darkness fell. This house, once filled with life, has now become an empty shell of my life. I've tried to be strong within my heart. Now it feels so high like my world is torn apart. I know I have been told it's for the first, and we must carry on, but don't make it easier now. And this house seems cold. There's no life within these walls. There's no sounds of laughter, and I can't hear my children call and I am left to win the worst is happened here today. Tell me where the children smell today. Tell me where they take him.

SPEAKER_08 26:58

I saw quite a lot of Wally and Edie over the next few weeks. I told Wally to keep his chin up, but I knew what my words were meaningless. Their lives had been torn apart. And then later the air raid started, and Wally knew that Edie would have to leave soon too. She was expecting and vulnerable herself, as well as little Georgie. He's hardly a toddler, not even a year old yet. Wally knew he had to get them to safety. As for Wally and me, we were the ones who had to stay behind to clear up the mess. I was the local policeman and he was Chief Air Raid Wharton. We had responsibilities and those were pretty awful. Too many nights we had to dig people out of the rubble, most of them dead or badly hurt. But we had a job to do, and it made us feel like we were doing our bit alongside our brave boys in the bosses. Moving out of London, and they haven't got no time to wave goodbye. Parents, teachers got the flock, to stand in line, clutching bundles, chopping down the platform, tiny hands are reaching for those they cannot find Heading for the country, and they haven't got no time to wave goodbye. 1939 with a change of clothes and food for the journey. Some come from south of the river with a lump health in their throats. Heading off to who knows where And they haven't got no time to wait goodbye. Children leaving, mothers weeping, family turn apart. Life would never ever be the same. A silent crowd afraid for their future, heading for somewhere, not knowing when they'll meet again. All of us feeling the pain. Older brothers, younger sisters hand in hand, wondering in amazement what was going on Bournemouth trains and buses or an unfamiliar land. Heading up to who knows where they ain't got no time.