Elizabeth halted in the middle of the train station at the sight before her. Hordes of children of all ages were clustered in the station. Each child held a bag or satchel of belongings and had a tag with their name printed on it attached to their coat. All the children carried gas masks, and the youngest—under four years—had theirs tied to their bags by string or rope. Many of them were entirely alone and faced their situation bravely, as only children can in times that frighten even the strongest of adults.
Mothers wept as they hugged their children, possibly for the last time. Elizabeth sucked in a breath at the heartbreaking sight. She knew with a terrible certainty that some of them would never see each other again.
Since the declaration of war a week ago, children had been leaving
