Buckden - a Huntingdonshire Village

FRIENDLY INVASIONS 191 CHAPTER 17/ FRIENDLY INVASIONS Alan Cockburn, Robert Curtis, William Medhurst, Ken Odell, Alec Owen, Pat Paterson, Harold Randall, David Rhodes The first invasion started even before war – the Second World War – was declared; the invaders swept in on a wave of double-decker buses. The second began three years later, its preferred transport being heavy trucks with their steering-wheels on the wrong side. This chapter describes the effect of wartime Buckden on two very different sets of newcomers: London lads and American soldiers. Evacuation efence planners accepted from the early 1920s that major population centres would be bombed in any future war. At first, their overriding objective was to persuade people to behave as normally as possible, i.e. to continue living in, and going out to work from, their own homes. 1 As the 1930s progressed, however, it became clear that public morale would be better served by allowing the voluntary mass evacuation of the most vulnerable groups: children, expectant mothers and the blind. Given Huntingdonshire’s good rail links to London, it is no surprise to learn that long before war was declared on 3 September 1939 discussions were underway on how the county should prepare to house, care for and, where necessary, educate evacuees. Among those scheduled to come to the area were pupils from three schools in Tollington in North London. One of these was Tollington School, a boys’ private secondary. Some of its staff and pupils were destined to spend the next two and a half years in Buckden. ‘I think we’ll send this lot to Buckden.‘ ‘Destined’ is perhaps not quite the right word. It suggests a rather more precise forward allocation system than was actually the case. One group of Tollington boys set out from Muswell Hill on 15 September 1939, with no idea of idea where they were going to sleep that night. For all they knew, their destination could have been the edge of London or the Scottish Highlands. One of them, David Rhodes, later wrote about why they ended up where they did: ‘The train stopped at St Neots, and after being led through the latrines and given our provisions, we were packed into Eastern National buses and driven off towards the town. [...] While we were waiting on St Neots platform, I happened to hear a man—obviously one of the directors of proceedings—call out, “I think we’ll send this lot to Buckden.” Quite a chance remark, but what weight it carried. ‘I’ll have this one.’ ‘I remember the first impression I received of the place when, from the top of the bus, I suddenly caught sight of the church and The Towers nestling among the trees. Immediately the vision of an ancient castle floated through my mind, as I expect it did through that of many others who were not engaged at the time in playing poker. But I was given no time to dwell on this subject, for the bus drew up outside the Rifle Range and we all trooped inside. What a miserable place it was—a long, narrow room with straw piled at one end (for makeshift beds, I suppose), and smelling of nothing but dust and disuse. ‘About sixteen of us lined up outside the Range, and a benevolent looking gentleman with a portly lady in attendance pointed at me and said, “I’ll have this one.” I realised then for the first time how cattle feel at the market, but war is war, and I was ushered away. By nightfall, we were all in different billets, scattered about the village, and were already settling down in our new homes.’ ...and a large friendly dog. The similarity to a cattle market also occurred to Alan Cockburn: ‘Gently herded into the Rifle Range, 1 ‘ Persuasion’ ranged from advice on how to protect your home against bomb blast or splinters, or decontaminate your family after a gas attack, to ringing London with 100,000 troops to dissuade people from ‘running away’. D