2nd September 1939

Dear Diary,

I was standing on the platform, forcing a smile on my face.I know I‘m only a 6 year old boy but from what everyone was saying and doing around me I knew I wasn’t going to be staying much longer; I was correct.

My mum was holding my small suitcase as i had my gas mask,attached with a small piece of attenuated,frayed rope that rubbed on my soft skin as it dangled from my neck.I was told I had to get onto the train and as I waved goodbye, all the people around me cried ; so did I.

Nothing was worse than being separated from my family,what if they get hurt ? What should I do ? Oh diary, please help me. I'm so worried about everyone and everything around me and you’re the only thing I have now.

This train journey has been the worst out of the ones that I have been on and I haven’t been on many.There were the emotional ones :crying and sobbing in one part of the carriage; the excited ones in another ; then the younger ones like me in another because apparently we would misbehave if we were with the older ones.There were a few things that I liked : the big houses ; the weird moving things and most importantly the big sweet shop because we don’t get many in London ‘cause of the war.

Anyway, I have to go now we are getting off the train to be picked, oh I do hope I get picked by someone nice.

Henry