One Day's Notice

A warning for British children during WWII

Fourteen-year-old Hazel Wilson lived with her brother and two-year-old sister in Colchester, England. It was 1940. For the past year, children from larger cities and more vulnerable coastal towns had been evacuated to the countryside for their safety, often billeted with strangers. When the Daily Express published a front-page story about the government’s scheme called CORB (Children’s Overseas Reception Board), Hazel’s parents asked her and her brother if they were interested in going to Canada.

Hazel was thrilled to say yes. She viewed the evacuation as a wonderful holiday away from her parents (what 14-year-old wouldn’t appreciate that?) and didn’t consider the homesickness she might experience. They applied. When a letter arrived in early summer saying they’d been selected to go, they were instructed not to say a word to anyone and to be prepared to leave with only 24 hours’ notice. Hazel didn’t even tell her best friend.

She found the train ride to Liverpool terrifying because of all the strange kids, but still managed to avoid her brother whom she viewed as an immature drag. In Liverpool, they stayed for several days at a school. Nights were spent on straw pallets on the floor, trying to sleep among falling bombs and wailing air raid sirens.

Once Hazel and her brother boarded the ocean liner SS Oronsay, their journey improved greatly as they enjoyed many luxuries and foods that were in short supply at home. From Halifax, they traveled by train to Winnipeg. There, they were housed at Winnipeg’s School for the Deaf, whose students were in their own homes for the summer. They underwent thorough physical examinations at the Children’s Hospital while they waited to be matched with their host families. This experience proved miserable, as Hazel and a 14-year-old boy were the last to be taken. 

Winnipeg's former School for the Deaf, now the Mennonite College Federation campus.

When her assigned foster parents showed up—on foot—they were Bill and Freda Rook, both professional musicians. With no children of their own, they had volunteered to host a guest child as their contribution to the war efforts. They gave up some personal luxuries, such as seasonal concert tickets, to host Hazel. Their house on Woodhaven Boulevard would be her home until late 1944. Her brother was eight miles away.

Hazel found it extremely difficult to adjust. The Rooks led a busy social life and entertained often, while Hazel was used to more quiet solitude. She was nervous about doing something wrong and upsetting her foster parents or, worse yet, her parents back home who had enough on their plates. Life at Linwood Collegiate was another huge adjustment. The winter clothes she was given by the Red Cross (such as a herringbone tweed coat with a fox collar, circa 1930) caused no end of embarrassment, no less than it would for one of today’s teenagers being forced to wear something used by an adult ten years ago.

Despite the challenges, Hazel grew five inches and her brother eleven in the first year. They were astounded by the abundance and variety of food. Items considered rare treats back home became daily fare. Her musical foster parents enrolled her in piano lessons and their church choir, and she joined Girl Guides. Her circle of friends grew, but she continued to miss her parents and the little sister who was growing up without her.

In October 1944, although the war wasn’t over, 18-year-old Hazel and her brother returned home. Her mother’s first words were, “Thank goodness you don’t have a Yankee accent.”

Though it initially felt great to be home, Hazel confided to her diary that she found England dull and dreary. She moved to London to find work and was there for VE Day in May 1945. While she could celebrate the elation of the day, restlessness remained in her part-Canadian heart.

In 1947, she returned to Winnipeg to live with the Rooks, and by 1955 her entire family had settled in Canada.

The list of what CORB kids should pack.