大象传媒

EPISODE 3 OF 鈥楨xodus From France鈥� from 鈥淛UST AN ORDINARY MAN鈥�

Further spoils from the RASC Depot Armoury had supplied us with several new small-arms including machine guns and Boyce Anti-tank rifles 鈥� one of which came into my possession as a means of defence from the advancing German Forces. Close to the site we were now occupying was a rather large French Mansion, commandeered by the Officers as a Headquarters and living accommodation, strictly for themselves and Senior NCOs. The remainder of the group had taken up positions by the roadside and in ditches
preparing for any eventualities fast approaching.

We were coming under heavy attack from enemy aircraft. During one such attack the air became thick with Messerschmitts. I went into HQ taking up a position on a huge balcony overlooking the Port of Le Havre. I was in possession of my Boyce rifle that I thought would be a good weapon at such close quarters. In that event I placed the rifle on the balcony rail, loaded and fired at a plane that was so close, I felt I could touch and most certainly not miss. I was very wrong. Where the shot went I do not know, but I landed about ten feet behind where I had been standing and into the French windows. In the excitement of battle I had forgotten the lessons about the recoil of the anti-tank weapon, which were normally fired at ground level.

Luckily I was not seriously injured. Hurt pride and a few bruises were suffering enough. I gave up the anti-tank rifle and reverted to my trusty .303 Lee Enfield. Under the circumstances that weapon was just about as good as Ping-Pong balls鈥� at a coconut shy.

Messages coming through the grapevine warned us that the Germans were advancing. Having dealt with our forces at Dunkirk, they were once more on the move Westward. It was during this period of events that I witnessed one of the most tragic and memorable sights of the war.

Apart from the drone of planes, a complete silence had descended around us on the ground, everyone seemed to be listening for something that was so utterly different. It was the distant sound of music. The sound was becoming closer by the minute.

Into sight came a Battalion of Scots Guards in full dress uniform marching to the sound of Pipe and Drums en route to face the enemy. Pipes skirling, Kilts swirling and plumes dancing in the wind. A most wonderful sight to witness on a less serious occasion. It was later that I learned that they were marching to face the enemy in our defence. I was later to see the blooded and dishevelled remnants of that proud group of men on the beaches at St Nazaire. They were few in numbers and like ourselves seeking some hope of rescue.

During all this confusion and our own desire to escape to safety, many thousands of incidents were taking place. Most unrecorded. Many that were unfolding, like the one to follow, made my own pale into insignificance.

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