Thomas and the Great War

Evacuation

Poor Christopher had been a shadow of his former self ever since the day his father had been drafted into the army. He didn't feel pleased when he came back on the Christmas of the year he left amongst other visits. On that very night his father left again, he had an uncomfortable sleep and woke up the next morning feeling lonely.

Just then, he heard the doorbell ring, and with newfound happiness, he rushed downstairs to answer it; hoping it would be Father deciding to stay with him once and for all. But when Margaret answered the door before he could, his heart melted when he found it was not Father, but a general from the Home Guard with an important message.

"Your son is due on the morning train, mum," he said and left.

Six minutes later, Christopher had taken off his nightgown and switched into his more casual outfit consisting of a white polo shirt, a black blazer, dark tan shorts with matching knee socks and chocolate brown shoes. His mother was combing his hair as he looked straight into the vanity mirror with a nasty scowl on his lips like the stubborn child he was.

"You look upset," said his mother. "Is it about your father?"

"I can't leave you as well," murmured Christopher.

"We only have half an hour before the train leaves," Margaret assured him. "Just relax and I'll fix you up with a nice breakfast."

"I'd rather stay," said Christopher. "It's not like there have been many bombings recently since two years ago."

And he was right, the Blitz and the Battle of Britain had ended two years before, but the concern for the safety of London's children and the other battles going on between Britain and Germany were still occurring.

"The last raid was about a month ago," argued Margaret. "But remember, Christopher, we will always be here for you...in spirit."

When she left the room, Christopher plopped down on the bed and began to pack his sack with some clothes, a few rations and his notebook.

"Of all the places I have to go to," he said to himself out loud. "I have to go to the countryside. Home is everything to me, and without it, I'd prefer to be a war orphan."

So Christopher and Margaret had a quiet breakfast of toast and marmalade and went to King's Cross where they said their goodbyes before the train to Liverpool departed at 8:00. The journey took about two hours and the engine pulling the train took almost twenty minutes for it to get started after stopping at Watford Junction to let a slow goods train carrying gunpowder pass by. The train was also full of Jewish refugees, some from Germany, some English, and some of them were even French and Czechoslovakian. But Christopher knew that he was traveling on a trainload of strangers and he remained silent for the rest of the journey. As a matter of fact, it was for the first time in his life he did not acknowledge the "joy" of having a ride on his favourite mode of transportation.

As the train pulled into Liverpool Lime Street station, the other children were just about getting off while Christopher stayed behind in his compartment. He took no notice of the guard calling "All out for Liverpool!" He just continued to stare out the window, looking feverishly at all the other Jewish refugees being called up in a single straight line.

"How can they expect me to fit in with all these strangers?" he said to himself.

Christopher wasn't anti-Semitic, but he felt that Jewish people were strange in their own little community of culture and religion. Then he darted his eyes toward Waterloo's Crosby Beach in the distance. If he could find a boat, he would have two options: go home or have a little adventure all by himself, floating through the vast ocean.