If you are an avid reader of historical fiction set in Britain during World War 2, it’s likely that you’ll be familiar with several events of the early war. These might be the image of families gathering around the wireless as they listened to Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain officially announce that Britain was at war with Germany, or the scream of the air raid siren just after that sent Londoners straight to air raid shelters. (This proved to be a false alarm and a poignant foreshadowing of the Blitz that would come a year later.)
One of the most sobering markers of the early war was Operation Pied Piper, which is explored in my upcoming book The Lost English Girl. Two days before Chamberlain declared war, a massive operation to move children and other vulnerable people out of Britain’s major metropolitan areas and into the perceived safety of the countryside got underway. The belief was that cities were likely to be the targets of air raids, and rural areas would likely avoid the expected bombings. (This proved to often be true, especially in places like London, Liverpool, Coventry, Glasgow, and other major manufacturing areas that saw devastating bombing during the war.)
Here a British Pathé film from 1939 shows (in the very jaunty manner of propaganda films of the era) the children boarding trains and parents—often mothers—waving them off from the station platforms.
Many children were sent with their schools, meaning many teachers were called upon to escort their classes. Some of my own aunts and uncles were sent from Liverpool to North Wales. People in these more rural communities then came forward to house children. Some children loved their experience in the countryside which must have felt so foreign to them; others were miserable.
Despite the rush to evacuate children and ready Britain for war, the fierce fighting that many believed would be likely didn’t materialize in the first few months of the war. Known now as the “Phoney War,” many parents decided to bring their children back home despite government advice.
However, with the ramp up of fighting during the Battle of Britain and the heavy bombing of London and other cities during the Blitz, many children who returned home after the initial evacuation found themselves placed back on trains, destined for the countryside again.
It would be years before some children would return home permanently. Often this led to awkward or strained family relations as a child who had been ten when they were evacuated would return as a teenager of sixteen.
Propaganda films like these ones are fascinating resources for a historical fiction author. In some ways, they give incredible texture and detail when researching a story. However, t’s vital to remember that they only one very specific side of history. They promote the moral-boosting messages that the government wants the public to believe. They don’t show the fear and heartbreak that the evacuations put families through. They don’t talk about children who never adjusted or foster families who mistreated children.
Researching any book is a layered, nuanced practice, and that is even more true when dealing with history because of the time that has passed and the agenda of whoever is telling that history. One of the most important jobs of the historical fiction author is finding what is missing from the records, whether that is the real emotions of the people touched by major events in history or the experiences of marginalized people whose stories have yet to be told. It is when an author finds those moments and uses them to build upon that historical fiction really shines.