The air raids are the part of the Second World War that history remembers most vividly. The rubble, the rationing, the evacuation trains pulling out of city stations. But the damage done to children during wartime rarely appears in the official record. It lived in quieter places: in the bed shared with a stranger in a farmhouse in Wales, in the letters that arrived less and less often, in the moment a child stopped expecting things to go back to the way they were. This post explores what wartime displacement actually did to the children who lived through it, and why the end of the conflict was never really the end of anything for them.