Tyneham stands as a defining example of the term ‘ghost village’. It was once a quiet little place, nestled on the Dorset coast; a quintessential chocolate box scene of a church, a school house and tidy lines of cottages. However, in 1943, the residents of the village were asked to leave so that the army could use the area for training. At the time, the folk received a promise from the government that once the war had ended they would be allowed to return. Sadly this did not happen; the promise was never honoured. Years passed, and the villagers accepted, sometimes grudgingly but always with a sense of honour in sacrifice, that they would never return. After years of neglect the church and the school house have been restored and are now museums. If you happen to be venturing nearby then I recommend that you visit. The derelict buildings have a distinct presence about them and are a reminder of some of the many home sacrifices that were made for the war effort.
Over the years, the plight of Tyneham has continued to touch me; and the more I investigated its history, the more I felt compelled to write about it. And so, using the writing genre I know best – the ghost story – I’ve tried to convey the sense of duty that comforted and supported these people in their valiant efforts to help Britain win the war. The resulting story, Return to Tyneham, can be read here: