I feel the ground shaking beneath my feet, a distant rumbling noise. I notice the scared looks on my friends’ face and my heart pounds in my chest. The sense of dread and confusion that consumes me is almost unbearable.

“All right, children!” An unfamiliar woman waves us towards the waiting train. I make my way behind the others and I’m loaded into a carriage with my classmates. My teacher helps us to sit and then stands next to the door, her face pinched with fear. It wasn’t the normal look of relief that I had seen many times before.

Meanwhile, my parents wave from the platform, their eyes sparkling with unshed tears. I know that my mum is probably trying to stay strong but I can’t help but feel the common bond of sadness and fear amongst us all. It’s a feeling I’m sure I’ll never forget.

The train’s whistle blows and I grip my little suitcase tighter. I can’t help but look back at the station which is slowly becoming a tiny dot in the distance.

I try to forget the events of the past few weeks; the air raid sirens, the terror of planes roaring in the skies, the sound of windows shattering or the smell of smoke in the air.

But, instead of shrinking away with sadness, I also look ahead to the future. I remember the heroic stories that I heard at school, of people escaping and overcoming life’s toughest challenges. I know that I must stay strong too.

As the train journey continues, I feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, I feel a wonderful kind of freedom. Slowly, I start looking forward to a new life and this helps to distract me from my worries.

I know that this journey is for the best, I will be staying with my Aunt and Uncle and starting a new school. Despite everything that’s happened, I feel an overwhelming sense of bravery and optimism, determined to make a good life for myself.

Whilst I’ll always remember the way I felt that day and the devastating events leading up to my evacuation, I’ll also always remember the courage and strength that got me through.