My Memories Of The Camp Are Not Good

A Memory of Hexham.

It was 1941 or 42 - I was 6 or 7 then. I was a quiet kid, shy, only child. We lived in Walker, close to the Navel Yard. My dad was RAF in North Africa and Mom worked in the shipyard. So I was evacuated. After a couple of aunt's homes, I was sent to Hexham. Right off I was bullied, other boys thought I was older because I was very tall for my age. One day some of the boys tied me to a tree at the far end of the sports field, I was there for over 6 hours before anyone found me, it was raining and I had wet my pants too. They took me to the nurse's office and she washed my ankles and hands. She also took off my pants and rubbed my face in them and sent me back to my hut. No supper, or hot drink. Another day in the dining hall I asked another boy to pass something and a teacher said no talking at the table. I again asked him to pass what-ever. And the teacher sent me to his cabin to wait, he came in about 1 hour later. How old are you, he asked, 7 Sir! (7 or younger you got it over your ass). Put your hand out and he caned me across the palm. I still have the mark today from the cut on my hand. They sent me to bed, no dinner, had to use a hanky for my cut hand. 3 weeks later my mother came to visit. After a while all hell broke loose, she even brought in the police. The rest of the war was with my grandfather & grandmother in Lemington. I have nothing good to say about Hexham. After the war we moved to Toronto, Canada. I am now 78 - thanks for giving me the chance to say something.