The chocolate I couldn't eat!
I was living in Seaforth, just outside Liverpool, when war broke out. I later became an evacuee and returned home before the end of the war.
One day, whilst I was walking down the main road in Seaforth, a double-decker bus went past with American soldiers on it, heading to the local barracks. "Hi Babe," one shouted at me (I was about 10) from the back of the bus. "Would you like a bar of chocolate?" And with that, he threw me a bar of chocolate. It had a picture of Babe Ruth on it. It looked amazing.
I was so pleased. As I hadn't seen chocolate for a long time, I decided to take it home to show my mum. On arriving home and showing mum the chocolate, she said, "Where did you get that from?" I told her that an American soldier had thrown it to me as he passed on the bus. At which point she said, "You don't know where it's been and where they got it from," and promptly threw it in the bin. I was devastated, and I think it was the only time I was resentful towards my mum. I knew one thing: if ever I got another one, I would eat it before I got home.
Another thing I remember was my mum coming to visit me whilst I was evacuated and telling me the Liverpool Museum had been bombed. I was really upset as I remember visiting it many times and loved seeing the Lioness and her two cubs in a glass cabinet. I was very worried that they had been destroyed during the bombing and I wouldn't see them again. I cannot remember if they did get destroyed or if I saw them again.
My father was an ARP Warden during the war. I remember one sad story my mum told me. One morning after a night raid, my father went to search a bombed house. Unfortunately, in the basement, he found a mother and daughter who had been killed. They were both surrounded by the daughter's 21st birthday gifts, which my father said was very upsetting not only because they died but in their circumstances.
I also have many happy memories of being evacuated to family in Farndon, Cheshire. Having to get on the bike to go and get milk daily from the dairy. Going to the local school where there were only three classrooms for the whole school. Also, looking after new evacuees that arrived in the village, some children never seeing cattle before.
Even though I was with family, I still missed my parents, who I would see about once a fortnight or maybe once a week. This, I think, was the hardest part of the war for me.
