‘Your home is gone, you won’t need to come here anymore’
The remains of a farmhouse whose owners, William Thomas Price and Clara Price, were ordered to leave and never return(Image: Alan Richards/CC BY-SA 2.0)
Once a bustling community, it was home to numerous farms, a pub, cemetery and over 200 men, women, and children whose forebears had cultivated the land for generations. However, within a few months, centuries of history were erased as Epynt became a ghost town – its voices hushed, its homes abandoned, its livestock gone.
In September 1939, following the onset of World War Two, an Army officer arrived to survey this secluded area in mid Wales. By Christmas, each of the farms (whose names the officer had difficulty pronouncing) received notices, informing the incredulous residents that they had until the end of April 1940 to vacate their ancestral homes.
The Ministry of Defence had set its sights on the region’s 30,000 acres, intending to use it as a training ground. The locals were informed that their sacrifice was crucial to the war effort and that they would be compensated for their inconvenience. With bombs already dropping, the War Office was in dire need of additional land and facilities.
For a fleeting moment in 1940, the predominantly Welsh-speaking community believed they had persuaded the MoD to rethink their plans. However, as Hitler’s Nazis stormed through Europe, London dismissed the heartbroken community’s pleas, instructing them to find new places to live, raise their families and rear their animals, reports WalesOnline.
Regrettably, there were limited local alternatives for the 54 farming families who needed to relocate, resulting in many being compelled to leave the area. Many held the belief that this arrangement would be temporary and they would return once the conflict ceased. However, the Ministry of Defence (MoD) today still owns the 30,000 acres of Mynydd Epynt, now known as the Sennybridge Training Area, which continues to serve as a training and live firing ground for British soldiers.
Nearly all of the original structures, including the farmhouses, have been demolished. The Drovers Arms Inn pub remains standing, along with the gravestones in the cemetery. These are virtually the only remnants of the families who resided there 80 years ago in what was more a community than a clearly-defined village. Although satellite images on Google Maps reveal a small network of roads in the area, many are inaccessible from Street View.
‘We’ve blown up the farmhouse — you won’t need to come here anymore’
Back in 1940, families held onto hope that they would eventually be permitted to remain – or at the very least, make their return. As late as March 1940, St David’s Day festivities were held at the chapel, known as Capel y Babell.
One resident, Thomas Morgan, would allegedly make regular journeys back to kindle a fire in his fireplace to protect the stonework from weathering until he and his family could come home. He continued this daily ritual until two soldiers approached him with devastating news that his house no longer existed — it had been demolished. They purportedly told him: “We’ve blown up the farmhouse. You won’t need to come here anymore.”
A descendant of one of Epynt’s families, Bethan Price, revealed her great-grandmother left a key in the lock of her front door, maintaining faith she’d return. Others, however, were more conscious of the permanent nature of their departure.
One woman even demanded to take her front door with her when she abandoned the village. For many it marked the conclusion of an era and the world they had cherished was finished.
In June 1940 the school and chapel shut their doors, the Army even began removing hedgerows and on July 1, 1940, heavy artillery bombardment commenced.
According to NFU Cymru, Elwyn Davies, who was 10 at the time, remembered how his grandmother was compelled to relocate, ultimately securing a new residence in Carmarthenshire: “It was a very sombre time. It was war time, and there weren’t many options locally. Just a week after she left, they flattened her house. They flattened everything.”
Iowerth Paete, the previous curator at St Fagans National Museum of History, was dispatched there to document the event with his camera. He remembered horses drawing carts piled high with belongings travelling down the road away from the village and an elderly woman weeping whilst seated in a chair outside the house she was being compelled to abandon.
The current MP, Ben Lake, is the grandson of Beryl Lake, the final infant to be born at Epynt. He informed NFU Cymru: “The takeover of the Epynt 80 years ago is a significant but often overlooked chapter in the history of Wales. An entire community was displaced, and families had to vacate farms that had been farmed by their ancestors for generations.”
Nevertheless, despite the fury experienced at the time, voicing opposition was considered tantamount to undermining the war effort and the Allied forces’ battle against Hitler. Consequently, the compulsory evacuation of Epynt did not achieve the same historical prominence as, for instance, Capel Celyn in Tryweryn Valley, which was intentionally flooded in 1965 to supply drinking water to households in Liverpool. Indeed, 81 years later, Epynt’s memory has faded, rather like the names of its former inhabitants carved on the worn gravestones at its 19th century chapel.
Can you visit Epynt today?
You can traverse the Epynt Way on various walks of differing lengths where “sheep roam freely on artillery ranges and red kites soar above troops on exercises” but “the sound of the wind is punctuated by booming mortars”. The Epynt Way visitor centre is housed in one of the original farmhouses.
It cautions: “If you see any military debris, don’t worry, you are safe but please don’t pick things up. You may see soldiers training but you are more likely to see red kites, hares and other wildlife.”