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Published on 08/07/1995 All articles from this issue

A young girl faces fears of a German invasion

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By Ruth Polata

Within days of Britain being at war, in September 1939, my parents received a cable from neighbors who had emigrated to South Africa. Before that, their daughter and I had been inseparable. The cable said - "Will give Ruth a home for the duration of the war." My first impulse, an excited ten year old, was to start packing right away for an ocean voyage. My parents had other ideas.

Shortly afterwards, I did leave home for a while. Our family of six lived in Leeds, a heavily industrialised city in the north of England. Expecting bombing of major cities, the government organised massive evacuations of school children with some of their teachers. My class set off by train for a village in Lincolnehire, our newly ibsued gas masks at the ready.

My taste of village life, and the whole evacuation fiasco, petered out a few months later. Back home again, my parents had volunteered to allow the government to 'billet' an essential worker with us, from time to time. We had a series of young women stay, drafted to work at a munitions factory. Mum was shocked by one girl's off-hours behavior tho', so that idea didn't last long.

Our home might as well have had a revolving front door during the war. How my mother coped with feeding everyone who visited is a story in itself. There was a constant stream of relatives, friends and 'strays.' Each Christmas, Dad waa dispatched to the Y.M.C.A. to bring someone home for the holidays. One memorable year he brought a whole bomber crew because they didn't want to be split up while they were on leave.

Canadian cousins visited us frequently when they were on leave. Also a distant relative who was in Britain's Merchant Navy. (After Atlantic crossings he always brought us scarce items from glamorous America. Once, for me, a whole box of Baby Ruth candy bars.)

When I was old enough to go to dances with one of my older Biaters, our partners might be from anywhere in Britain, one of the Commonwealth countries, or be escapees from Europe. All in all, to me it seemed like one great lark. Seeing German and Italian prisoners of war working on the farms, listening to an American army negro choir, even having young cousinb stay, from bomb-torn London, were fascinating new experiences, nothing else.

Leeds itself had had only one major air raid. Damage was on the other side of the city, so we didn't experience that. I was shocked into awareness of the country's desperate situation by my father's fervent outburst when we heard the dreadful news from Pearl Harbor. "Thank God! Now the Yanks will have to come in to itl" Invasion seemed imminent to many people.

What invasion might mean was brought home to me soon afterwards. Four year old Junior and three year old Evie, trilingual in Dutch, English and Malay, came to stay while their mother coped with a new baby. Their homes destroyed, the children, their pregnant mother and an aunt, had been on the last boat to escape when Japan invaded the Malaysian peninsula. The two husbands, rubber plantation managers, were never seen again. Meeting this family, hearing their harrowing stories, I began to waken up to the realities of war. Without help from the 'Yanks,' my life might have been equally tragic. Instead, I was one of the fortunate people for whom danger and sadness remained only on the periphery of experience.

The war in Europe ended for me with more excitement than I could have imagined. I was sixteen by then, and on my first solo trip to stay with relatives in London. Cousin Madge was attached to Britain'B Combined Operations Headquarters. She had been due to help out in the officers' bar at H.Q. over lunch time one day. That morning, listening to the radio's marvellous news, she said, "Ruth, why don't you come with me? No-one will mind." That turned out to be an understatement.

When we arrived, I don't know what astonished me more, the quantity of Army, Navy and Air Force top brass crammed into the tiny bar, or that everyone seemed to be already 'well away.'

Madge was kept busy for a couple of hours serving drinks as feat as she could pour them. I was kept busy deflecting enthusiastic offers of drinks, and some of the offerers. Eventually I took refuge with Madge behind the counter. It was all a bit much for a kid from the provinces.

In the evening, we went again into central London to ]oin the crowds of revelers. We were thrilled to see Winston Churchill on a balcony, surrounded by Cabinet members. Like the throng around us, we cheered ourselves hoarse while 'Winnie' waved expensively, his trademark cigar and a brandy glass in hand.

For Britain, the ending of the war with Japan in August was almost anticlimactic. For our family, tho', there was one more adventure ahead. Americans who had served in Europe had to wait in Britain until they could be transported home to the States. To fill in the time, some of the officers were sent on three-month univerity courses. My parents volunteered to have two stay with US. A 3eep brought Lta. Charles Duncan and Hudson White, Jr. to our doorstep. Apprehensive at first, they cheered up quickly when they found they were joining a family with four daughters. We had a crazy, happy, time with them before they sailed home across the Atlantic. I couldn't have guessed then that I would be making that trip myself, many years later.