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Patrick Williams Remembers The
Elliott School in Wartime
At the outbreak of World War II in September 1939, over 600,000
children, including me, a nine-year-old boy, were evacuated from the
Greater London area to avoid anticipated air raids and gas attacks. My
School, Elmwood Junior School. Croydon, was among them. The exodus also
included pupils from the Elliott Girls and Boys Schools from Southfields,
London, and many of their teachers.
There were no suitable sites large enough to keep both Elliott schools
together, so the boys were relocated to Woking and the girls to Guildford.
In 1941 I passed my 11+ (or was it ‘The Scholarship’ then?). But as I was
living in Guildford, I, and several of my friends, found ourselves at the
Girls School. We were too young to see any advantage in this. For much of
the time the school was housed in a large requisitioned Country Mansion
called Guildown House. It had extensive gardens and lawns through which we
roamed during playtimes.
We were allowed to play games on one lawn in particular, which, by the end
of July each year, was completely bare, without a single blade of grass.
It wasn’t large enough for ball games, but we boys enjoyed British Bulldog
and other contact sports which, with hindsight, were remarkably rough, but
I can’t recall any serious injuries. George Wenglowitz, a refugee from
Nazi Germany, was immensely strong for his size, and the leading sportsman
in the Saxon House team. He even managed to fill both roles of Centre
Forward and Centre Half in the Saxon football team; at the same time!
Another of our favourite games was ‘Castles,’ where a smallish boy would
be mounted on the shoulders of a bigger stronger boy – like George. The
principle was similar to British Bulldog in that the ‘knight’ mounted on
his charger would try to unseat opposing ‘knights.’
George was often the most successful charger. Something amused his knight
one particularly hot sunny day. As George charged here and there, helping
his rider to unseat knights throughout the field, his jockey got a fit of
the giggles, eventually reducing him to helpless laughter, quite unable to
control his horse – or his bladder. All the onlookers there fell about
laughing when George’s two tone khaki shirt was revealed when he finally
allowed his hapless rider to dismount.
Strange that my most vivid wartime memories tend to be similar hilarious
or outrageous incidents, rather than academic matters. Another incident
involved one of our boys stealing some explosive fuses from a Home Guard
hut, and his efforts to exploded them – unbelievably – during playtime!
There was one successful detonation (I won’t give the details) but soon
after the big bang Police arrived on the scene and, sadly, I think the
school expelled our adventurous colleague.
We may not have appreciated them at the time, but our teachers were great;
succeeding in doing a difficult job in trying conditions. Miss Rolfe,
Maths I believe, was white-haired and glamorous, favouring a display of
blue stoned finger rings. She was severe, but an excellent teacher. Miss
Jones, Music, was a superb pianist, who would, at Assembly on special
days, give the whole school a performance of ‘In the Hall of the
Mountain King’ or other classics. Sadly, although I put enormous effort
into my singing, Miss Jones, was unimpressed and suggested it would be
better for everyone if I just mimed the words. She was a gentle soul, but
I did find that hurtful! Mrs Hewetson, the headmistress, was very strict,
but just. Amazingly she had the ability of reading your mind. She once had
reason (I can’t remember what it was) to chastise me, rounding off the
carpeting with “…and don’t look at me like that!” I hadn’t realised my
thoughts were so transparent. I never forgot the lesson!
Mr Kear (a good sense of humour) and Mr Benito (not such a good sense of
humour) were two of the male teachers at the Guildford Girls School, but
most of the teachers were women, whose faces I remember, but not their
names.
Being evacuated and away from family contact most of the time, was a
miserable experience. During the war I had about six different ‘homes’
which varied from a ghastly Dickensian experience — which I eventually
rebelled against — to the luxury of staying with a titled Lady, whose Maid
cared for me. Unfortunately for me, my stay in opulence only lasted a few
weeks. At the other extreme my Foster Mother during the Dickensian Saga,
used her three segregated evacuees as a source of cheap labour and a
profit making exercise – even though the government paid her only 14
shillings per week to care for each one of us. My other homes were with
normal families, or were transit hostels (in one of which I had my first
and only encounter with a bed bug) for a week or two while waiting to be
more permanently housed.
Although it wasn’t something we discussed, my most valued moral support
came from my school friends; and my older sister, who was also evacuated
to Guildford. Their very existence was enough, most of the time, to
strengthen my resolve to ‘keep on smiling.’ Two of my classmates, Peter
Matthews and George Wenglowitz, joined me in the 1st Stoughton Scout
Group, and Scouting and other activities mainly kept us fully occupied and
out of serious mischief.
Other special school friends were Trevor Mitchell, Tony Brewis, Johnny
Morris and Leon Evans. Jean Davies wasn’t a special friend, although I had
good reason to be grateful to her. Although the teacher was already in the
classroom, I was continuing with a demonstration of my prowess with a pair
of compasses for drawing circles. I was using them as a dart, and
persuaded Jean, who sat immediately behind me, to spread her fingers out
on her desktop. I claimed I was so skilled I could throw the compasses in
the gaps between her fingers. You guessed it. Next moment there was the
compass firmly stuck into the back of Jean’s hand. Shock! Horror! She gave
me a withering look and called me a bloody fool as I quickly pulled it
from her hand. I am ashamed to admit my main concern was whether she would
‘tell teacher.’ No scream, no complaint. I wonder if she ever knew how
grateful I was. I never told her.
At the end of the war, more upheaval. Back to Southfields, from Guildford
(and Woking) and back to having separate Boys and Girls Schools. And a new
set of teachers. Not ideal preparation for Oxford School Certificate exams
the following year.
But it was an enjoyable time. I have a final year form photograph, dated
July 1946, to help my memory. This can be found in the Pictures before
1950 section along with other pictures from the same era. Picture Number 1. In it are teachers H W Hill, E N Fennel, S Colloff, J Benjamin, H A Wilkinson, H Taylor, Headmaster Mr Nugent, W R
Mitchell, G May, G Hofmann, A Owen, J Armitage (not too sure about
identifying him) and Miss Burgess.
Of my schoolmates I can recognise Peter Matthews, George Wenglowitz,
Johnny Morris, B Brady, Doug James, Tony Brewis, E F Webb (outstanding
goalkeeper?), and Stan Kearton. Other boys whose names I should be able to
put faces to, but can’t, are J Siarey (who might have been School
Captain), D Palmer, J Deadman, Anthony Carroll, Ted Rowe, J Temple, John
Ewing, D Standing and J Keteringham.
Ah! We had some laughs, one of which involved a lunchtime game of table
tennis with a cracked ball, using school text books as bats. Sadly, I
can’t tell you about it except to say that typical schoolboy humour was
involved. That makes it unsuitable for general publication.
Did I have a favourite London teacher? I did. It has to be Mr W R
Mitchell, the Art Master, who had a way of treating you as an intelligent
equal — even though we didn’t deserved it!.
Patrick Williams
e-mail: patincam@waitrose.com
25 June 2006
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