The boys weren't prepared. They didn't know. They had no warning. No one told them where they were going, what they were doing. No one told them anything.
Patrick Collins was awakened by the man who would be his mathematics teacher. He shook each student in turn while shouting, "Up! Get up! Out of bed, all of you. Down to the yard, now. Hurry up!"
Perhaps the staff of Shawdale School for Boys had meant to tell their students. Perhaps they were going to get them all together later that day, the second day of the school year, and tell the boys of all the plans. The plans of what they would do if this should happen. If they had, they never got a chance.
Patrick heaved himself from his bed and rubbed his bleary eyes. It must be early, he thought. Though he could not see the room clearly, there wasn't much light to see by.
Patrick picked up his glasses from the bedside table. He cleaned them on his nightshirt and put them on. The room came into focus. Several of the other boys were dressed already, and the teacher was hurrying them along.
Perhaps if the teacher had truly understood the severeness of what was happening, he would have known there wasn't time for dressing. He might have shoved them out the door, down to the yard, without any preparation. He might have grabbed them from the beds himself and dragged them down. He might have begged to go with them.
Patrick pulled on his school clothes as hurriedly as he could, trying to catch up with those who were already dressed. He pulled his pants on, and rushed to button his shirt. He managed to catch up, and soon the group was out the door and looking for the teacher who had gone to wake up another room of students.
They had only met the day before, but already some schoolmates had picked out the perfect nickname for Patrick. The fact that he was obviously overweight had earned him the name of... "Hey Piggy! Can't you hurry up?" one of the boys yelled.
"I can't. My asthma..." Patrick trailed off, breathing heavily.
"Oh right. I forgot. Ever so sorry," another boy, dark haired, said.
The teacher returned to the group, with another group of boys trailing behind him. Patrick might have met them yesterday, but he couldn't place any names to the faces.
"Come on, now, boys. Outside! Down to the yard with you," the teacher said.
The troop, which became larger as other teachers brought in their students, hurried down to the grass outside of the school. There were boys of all ages along with them. There were some short ones that Patrick could only assume were in their first or second year of schooling. The older ones were there too, with a group just ahead of Patrick that looked as if they had just come from a meeting, as they were all dressed alike.
The yard was filled with students. Students stretched from the doors of the school in all directions. They filled a space much larger than any one student might have imagined possible. Off to the right, however, was the area the students were being herded toward.
"Does anyone know what we're doing?" one boy asked.
"We're all going that way," a voice answered from the crowd.
"But what's that way?" the first boy called back.
The crowd slowly pushed forward. As the trees cleared, they could see the reason they were all heading to the right. Four small planes sat in the open place. Their Headmaster stood with his assistant, checking off students as they piled into the planes.
"And you are?" he asked.
"Percival Wemys Madison," the young boy said. "The Vicarage..."
"That's enough, next!" the Headmaster called. "You are?" he asked the next boy.
"Jack Merridew," said a tall boy.
The line slowly moved forward. Patrick stood and watched as the boys packed into the last plane. He reached the front of the line, stated, "Patrick Collins," and was rushed into the plane.
Out the window, the first plane took off into the distance.
"Has anyone seen an Eric Mason?" the Headmaster shouted into the plane. "He's not been checked off!"
"He's here, Sir," a boy shouted toward the back of the plane. The boy next to him, they must have been twins, stood up and showed that he was, in fact, there.
"They're all checked off, then. This plane can leave," the Headmaster said to a crew member.
The Headmaster stood in the yard with the others on the staff. "Do you think they understand?" he asked. "I mean, do you think they know that there's a war going on, and that their home could be blown away in a matter of minutes? That we might not survive to see tomorrow?"
They all watched as the last plane flew into the distance. As it disappeared into the sky, a teacher answered him. "No, Sir, I don't think they do. I don't think they'd be ready for that. I suppose they're better off not knowing. To them, it can all be just a fun little game."