Sent away by sea: the forgotten history of WWII’s ‘seaevacuees’

Hazel Gaynor remembers the World War Two ‘seaevacuees’, the children sent away from Britain by sea to escape the bombings at home. This is an often-forgotten part of the history of the war, overshadowed by more familiar events, and it inspired Hazel to write her new novel, The Last Lifeboat.

Operation Pied Piper, the British government’s long-planned evacuation programme, was put into action in September 1939 at the outbreak of war with Germany.

The plan to evacuate some three million schoolchildren from Britain’s cities to the safety of the countryside is a familiar part of WW2 history, re-enacted in school history lessons and re-told in classic books like Nina Bawden’s Carrie’s War. But the familiar images of children gathering on train station platforms with their suitcases and gas masks only tells part of the story of Britain’s young evacuees.

By the start of 1940, many evacuated children had returned home. The threatened bombing raids hadn’t come to Britain’s cities, and the so-called ‘Bore War’ or ‘Phoney War’ left many wondering what all the fuss was about until Hitler’s occupation of France and the Low Countries in May, 1940, brought the threat of an invasion of Britain ever closer.

A group of children arrive at Brent station near Kingsbridge, Devon, after being evacuated from Bristol in 1940

The issue of mass evacuation was raised once again, and this time it was proposed that children would be evacuated not just to the British countryside, but overseas.

Many parents who could afford to send their children to family and friends overseas had already taken that decision, making arrangements privately. For those who didn’t have the financial means or connections to send their children overseas, the threat of Nazi invasion loomed until the government announced a new evacuation scheme, the Children’s Overseas Reception Board (CORB).

Under the CORB scheme, parents could apply to have their children safely transported to other British dominions such as Australia, Canada, New Zealand and South Africa, with the costs covered by the government. Many in authority believed it was a sensible option, a way to keep Britain’s children safe while also reducing demand for food and other resources on the Home Front. Churchill resisted the idea, believing it would send the wrong message to the enemy and make Britain look weak, but the scheme went ahead nevertheless.

When CORB opened its doors in June 1940, over 200,000 parents applied for some 10,000 places. Individual cases were assessed and places allocated to children living in areas considered most at risk from invasion or bombing.

As parents weren’t permitted to travel with their children, CORB requested adult volunteers to act as escorts to the children during their voyage. Teachers and nurses were particularly encouraged to step forward.

When the first overseas evacuations began in July 1940 the young ‘seaevacuees’ or ‘seavacs’ became headline news.

But long journeys at sea were not without risk during a time of war. Crossing the Atlantic to Canada was especially risky given the threat of German U-boats known to patrol the waters. Stay, or leave? It was an impossible choice for parents. For the evacuated children, a new life began with host families in a strange country, far from home.

In October 1940, the then fourteen-year-old Princess Elizabeth recorded a special message to evacuees as part of a BBC Children’s Hour broadcast. Reassurance was certainly needed when the SS Volendam, carrying British children, was torpedoed in the Atlantic in August 1940. Although all passengers were rescued, it was a stark reminder of the risks the children faced. The choice to evacuate or keep children at home became ever more agonising.

Between July and early September 1940, just under 3,000 children were evacuated overseas through the CORB scheme. When the Blitz bombing raids began in earnest with the devastating attacks of the East End on Black Saturday, September 7, 1940, there was renewed urgency to send children to safety.

Children outside their East End home, bombed in the Blitz

The Blitz would continue for the next 57 days and nights, and CORB sailings continued, despite an earlier suspension of the programme due to a shortage of naval warships to escort the evacuee ships across the perilous waters.

Warships were needed to move troops, to defend Britain’s borders and to escort vital supply ships coming to Britain. The warships would now only escort evacuee ships to a pre-determined position and then return as an escort to inbound supply ships.

The risks of overseas evacuation became all too real when SS City of Benares, taking children from Liverpool to Canada, was hit by a torpedo from a U-boat in a stormy mid-Atlantic just after 10pm on 17 September, 1940. Earlier that morning, and following protocols, the escorting naval warships had left the Benares convoy to escort inbound supply ships to Britain. Parents were not aware that the ship carrying their children wouldn’t be under naval protection all the way to Canada.

City of Benares sank within 30 minutes. None of the other 18 ships in the convoy returned to help survivors, following protocols not to assist a stricken vessel while there was U-boat activity in the area. A rescue ship finally arrived some 16 hours later.

Those who had survived the initial impact and made it into a lifeboat endured atrocious conditions through the night. Many died before help arrived. In total, 77 of the 90 children on board, and over 200 adult passengers and crew, perished in the tragedy. The government immediately stopped the overseas evacuation scheme.

Royal Navy destroyer HMS Anthony rescues survivors from a lifeboat from SS City of Benares

Reading about these shocking events inspired me to write The Last Lifeboat. While I was familiar with Operation Pied Piper, I didn’t know about the ‘seaevacuees’. Theirs is a little-known story of the war, often overshadowed by more familiar events.

Children being sent overseas felt like a very different story of evacuation and one I was keen to explore. How did parents make the impossible decision to send their children so far away, and what happened to those evacuated children?

Reading about the torpedo attack on the City of Benares, and particularly of a lifeboat of survivors, lost at sea for eight days, sparked the idea for my story of these events, told from the point of view of a mother in London awaiting news of her children, and a volunteer escort stranded in the missing lifeboat.

The Last Lifeboat is a story about the lasting impact of war, particularly on women and children, of decisions made by those in authority and by those who have little influence or choice, and it is also a story of survival, hope and second chances.

Ultimately, the book asks the reader to consider what they would do if faced with the agonising choices faced by those who inspired my fictional characters. I’m sure we can all relate to the instinct to protect a child, but how far would we go to do that, and at what cost? It is the ‘what if’ and the consequence of choice that sit at the heart of The Last Lifeboat. I hope that the echo of these forgotten voices of war will continue to reverberate beyond the final page.

The Last Lifeboat by Hazel Gaynor is published on 8 June, 2023.