- Contributed by
- People in story:
- Doris Saunders and her brothers Dennis and Bert
- Location of story:
- Sheffield and Eltham (Greenwich) - Greater London
- Background to story:
- Article ID:
- Contributed on:
- 10 October 2005
My youngest Brother was called Dennis, and then Bert was the next one up. They got up to all sorts during the war! They were evacuated with the other young people with their names round their necks. They were the last two to be found anywhere to live because they wanted to stay together, and they couldn’t find anyone to take them in, it took a long while. They sat there for ages until an elderly couple from Sheffield said they’d take them. They weren’t very happy with them though.
I went to Sheffield one day to see if they were alright, and the lady was shouting at Bert to go and pick the pail up and go and get the water. To Den she said “You get on with picking those potatoes!” They just looked up and saw me, and Bert dropped the pail and they both came running to me and put their arms around me crying. The lady came out and shouted to them “have you got that water yet?” I said “No, you can get it yourself, I’m taking them home”. They went back again later with a nice couple in Sheffield — they had a son the same age as Bert and they got on very well there, she was a nice lady and they were very happy, so we were content too. They stayed there for quite some time during the war — a year or two at least. Then finally I went up and brought them home, I was pleased to see them back where they belong.
When Dennis used to have his mates around and help them out with eggs and anything else out of the larder. He’d cook them eggs — he’d give ‘em anything. I’d come in and say “What are you doing?” “Giving them something to eat” he’d innocently reply. “Tell them they can go and get something to eat in their own homes!” I’d order. He was a terror.
I came home one day and there was a crowd of children round the gate; I said “What’s going on?” and my next door neighbour cried “Oh, come and look at him”. He was hanging out the top window- the bedroom window. I told them all “Come on you lot, home you go: if he wants to jump that’s up to him.” I looked up at him and said “If you’re going to jump, jump, ‘cause if you don’t I’ll come up and push you out!” He heard me coming up the stairs and couldn’t get back in quick enough. He really was a terror, but we had some fun with ‘em.
This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Becky Barugh of the BBC Radio Shropshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Doris Saunders and has been added to the site with her permission. Mrs Saunders fully understands the site's terms and conditions.
See more of Doris's stories:
- We weren’t prepared for war at all
- They’d all just started, like me
- That’s how we crossed paths
- You heard the “swish” of the rocket just before it landed on the house
- All you could see was his eyes
- You’d see a queue and just jump on the end
- Climbing trees and fences
- We took notice that time!
- He’d gone all the way round
- It was lucky I’d already got married
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