Today I was asked to think back to my childhood and the day I was evacuated during World War Two. It felt like another world away from here and I was so scared. I remember packing my bag for the journey, trying to fit all the essentials into my small rucksack: a change of clothes, my favourite book, a packet of sandwiches and a teddy bear.

A kind family from London was taking me in and I hoped they would be as nice as I had heard. We all lined up, none of us speaking, waiting for the train that would take us away from our homes and our families. I saw my father wipe a tear from his eye. I wanted to go to him and say goodbye, but I stayed in line, my feet rooted to the ground.

On the train, all I could feel was a heavy silence. No one wanted to talk; we were all too terrified and uncertain of what the future held. I watched as the countryside zoomed past, trying to take in all its beauty as I knew I may never see it again.

Finally, we arrived at our destination and I was taken to my foster family’s house. I was met by a kind elderly couple and I was offered some food, which I hadn’t realised I was so hungry for. We all ate together in a comfortable silence, before the couple took me to my room to give me a chance to rest.

I’m grateful now that I had the chance to evacuate from wartime, as it saved my life. Evacuation was a difficult time, but it brought Britain together and showed the strength of the human spirit. Reflecting on this time reminds me of the courage and resilience of the people in my community – it was a time that I will never forget.