EVACUEES, REFUGEES & "SPIKERS" AND CHRISTMAS
This blog is about Evacuees, Refugees, and "Spikers" but it could also be called the love of children during World War II. The word "spikers"? that will become apparent when I tell you of my story after Tina's recollections.
In the beginning of the war in 1940, London was subjected to the most horrific blitz and over a third of the city was destroyed by German bombs and the docks were almost completely demolished. But the most awful facts of all were that 32,000 died and thousands were injured. The Government decided that evacuation of non-essential citizens and children, particularly children, had to be achieved and hundreds of thousands were moved to less dangerous areas whenever wherever possible.
I did not experience this as we lived in dangerous areas or remote locations but Tina's Mum helped in this task as there was room in the home to help. Tina's Father was away in the Army. The first effort was to provide a room for a young mother and her baby but this proved to be short lived as there were some questions as to the mother's actions. It was not always plain sailing.
The second effort was a success as you may see from the photographs above. June was a lovely little girl about 8 years of age. Nan said that she was nice pleasant child. Unfortunately as time passed they have lost touch with this girl. Those times did make for lost contacts, massive movements of people were taking place.
Nan told this tale. One of the neighbours, a dressmaker by trade, had two little girls from the East End of London, a real poverty stricken area that was heavily bombed. They had very long hair that was full of nits. She marched them out into the garden to be shorn into short hair and debugged accompanied by shrieks of " I want me Mam!" Nan was outside hearing this with tears streaming down her face. This lady would later give these little girls a strawberry basket with a jam sandwich [no butter] and a bottle of water to spend the day on the beach so that she could get on with her work.
My experience of refugees came to pass in October 1945 when I was 8 years of age. We went to Bath Station and met this Dutch boy called Jan Kalksma who arrived with 49 other children from Alkmar.
The following report from the Rotary Club Magazine from that time will explain this -
ROTARY CLUB BATH visit ALKMAAR
They were given an official welcome at the Town Hall; they shared in the liberation celebrations at the Town Hall, afterwards joining in the dancing in the streets until the small hours. They visited Lamar's famous cheese market — and on the spot where five Dutchmen of the underground resistance had been shot, they placed a wreath on behalf of Bath. At the invitation of the Town Council they renamed the chief bridge of Alkmaar, the Bath Bridge; on one side of it is Bath's coat of arms.
They saw a procession of the town's 5,000 children. It was their Queen birthday — "and", says Jimmie, "as they passed by wearing their pitiful bits of clothing, it was then that we fully realised that Bath's effort had indeed been necessary. The need for the cases of clothing we had sent was plain. No child had a decent pair of shoes, some were barefoot. Girls were wearing their mother's dresses, boys were wearing men's trousers. Some families had to share clothes".
The party were taken to the battlefields and to the areas that had been deliberately flooded by the Germans in the last weeks and days of the war. What they saw made an unforgettable impression — behind all the Dutch joy of being free was the terrible destruction and desolation, privation and starvation.
Burgomaster Jonkheer van Kinschot had been dismissed by the Nazis for non—collaboration and went into hiding for three years as did two of his three sons. The Bath party visited the farm where the Burgomaster wife delivered messages for the underground newspapers which were hidden in an organ and never found by the Germans. The underground paper was printed in Rotterdam, t0 miles away. Although she had Germans stationed in her home and they said to her frequently We have captured your husband", never once was the Burgomaster's wife deceived or trapped into betraying her husband's whereabouts.
Meanwhile, in Bath itself, arrangements were going ahead for the reception from Alkmaar of 50 children who were suffering from malnutrition. Owing to the hardships they had suffered, the children were in a heartrending state when they arrived in October, 1945, under the care of Dutch leaders. They stayed with Bath families for three months, and this was the first of exchange visits of various kinds, of children and of sports clubs' members, that grew with the passing of years.
Jan was about 10 or 11 years of age and so so thin. He was dressed in a children's lumberjack style jacket supplied by the Canadian Army and had a label addressing him to us. My Mum "adopted" him on the spot and although his English was very basic [our Dutch non existent] we soon found a way to live together keep him warm and nourish him. Food was very scarce but we had an ace in the hole - Aunt Hannah on her farm in Devon and an excellent postal system to send meat and other victuals to us. Christmas soon approached and Aunt Hannah [the lady who helped Odette] guaranteed a ham and a Muscovy Duck but we had a job finding what Jan wanted for a Christmas present. He said that he wanted "spikers" for Christmas and we finally found out what that was. He had seen people playing darts in the pubs when we went for a country walk on a Sunday and that was what he wanted - a dart board and darts!
Where and how my Mum and Dad found one in those times I do not know but come Christmas morning he had his dart board and darts and he was so so pleased. Time came for him to go home and my Mum carefully wrapped his board and darts in card board and brown paper with a carrying handle - one very happy well fed child that had been loved by my Mum and we were glad. We all wish again that we had stayed in touch.
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