大象传媒

One day we pulled off into a side road and were ordered to cover a cross road with a gun. This was to be an open sights operation 鈥� an anti tank gun situation with the target in view. The fuse cap was left on the shell to aid penetration. I thought this was wishful thinking. The village, or hamlet rather, was strangely quiet, no people, no traffic. We occupied a fairly large house on the crossroads and some a barn some distance away. Now this reads like a novel 鈥� a thriller and I remember it so clearly. We decided this was an empty shop, quite a large area with a staircase going up to the first floor in the middle of the ground floor so that the first dozen stairs were in view before the landing wall above obscured the rest. We thought that upstairs would make a good observation post, certainly in the two most likely directions. Someone said 鈥淪hssh鈥� and put forefinger to lip. We listened there was a noise upstairs! Then we became aware that someone was coming downstairs. We pointed the rifles at the stairs. The steps were hesitant but getting closer. A pair of boots with battledress gaiters appeared. A large British soldier with his arm in a sling arrived at the bottom of the stairs. Behind him was another small younger soldier. They were friendly and relieved and said that at first they thought we were Germans as they had been asleep. We saw with surprise that the big man, in his mid-thirties, was a W.O.CC.1 鈥� a Regimental Sergeant Major. He took his arm out of the sling, unwound the field dressing to show a bullet hole through the fleshy part of the forearm below the elbow. There was a blue hole but no blood; it was certainly some days old. He rewound the bandage and replaced his arm in the sling. I don鈥檛 remember if the two had any equipment with them. 鈥淲e鈥檒l be off then鈥� he said to find medical assistance and off they went.

Bruce said to me 鈥淎re you thinking what I鈥檓 thinking ?鈥� 鈥淒eserters possibly?鈥� I agreed, very dodgy I thought and no blood on his sleeve. I didn鈥檛 notice a bullet hole either and I thought the whole thing very suspicious. No one had noticed his shoulder flash. What a convenient place to have a wound and be walking wounded and someone had noticed that his battledress top didn鈥檛 seem to match his trousers, identities had been changed on a battlefield before. Perhaps we were doing them a great injustice.

We were running out of bully beef and biscuits but still had a fair amount of tea 鈥� and those sultanas, in fact we found another unopened wooden box. We spent a reasonable night in the barn, dog tired we slept well, half expecting the Germans might catch up with us. The nights were generally reasonably quiet 鈥� or comparatively quiet as there was little air activity but as soon as it was light in the mornings it all started again. Lieutenant Siley had gone off with the other guns. Our first serious casualties occurred. Our very likeable popular subaltern had been killed. The other guns arrived with the news. They had been machine gunned as they were moving from their position. I sat down and sobbed because we had been great friends as far as the difference in ranks permitted. Sergeant Major Potter who had done the clerical work when we enlisted in April 1939 appeared and approached me. 鈥� For Christ鈥檚 sake pull yourself together, a f-----g fine officer you鈥檙e going to make鈥� and I realized that George Siley had spoken to the Sergeant Major about me. To some extent I pulled myself together. With a grin he said 鈥淚t might have been worse鈥� and I said 鈥淵es, it might have been you and it could have been worse than that, it might have been me.鈥� He grinned 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the spirit鈥� he said. Callous? Well that situation had to be faced. He was greatly missed, but the war went on.

We originally thought when we gave up our first position that it was a withdrawal but it had become obvious that it was a retreat. Nothing happened the rest of the day. We saw no civilians, no French or other British soldiers. There was desultory air activity but the lack of activity was eerie. We moved off again, up a small country road where we saw British infantry and eventually came to a main road, crowded with vehicles and troops, British and French walking 鈥� the French mostly in the opposite direction. We managed to insinuate our vehicles in the queue, amongst horse drawn traffic 鈥� civilian and military. There was then usual Stork observation plane above and Stuka activity in the area.

One day was just like the previous day and the next 鈥� chaos. We had very little to eat. Someone saw chickens and found some eggs which we managed to boil hard and we had biscuits and a hard boiled egg. I don鈥檛 remember any other rations being available, the whole supply system had broken down. It did not appear that we were going to stop and make a stand. We heard that the B.E.F. was being evacuated by sea. We didn鈥檛 believe it. We came to a cross road in the Armentieres area 鈥� a terrible traffic jam. French troops were crossing at right angles 鈥� vehicles and marching men. Stukas were bombing a mile or so away. A British officer stepped into the traffic, held the French up 鈥� they would have run him down if they had proceeded and some dozen or so various vehicles continued on our way. We had not seen one of our battery officers for some time and I engaged a young French N.C.O. in conversation. His English was about as good as my French so we had no problem in communicating. He said that when there had been casualties his men had run away or retreated without orders. They had wives and families and didn鈥檛 want to fight. We had noticed that the French infantry varied in their appearance and general attitude. There were undoubtedly good units and units where everyone looked to us youngsters, old and very unhappy heads down and some walking wounded.

We had no idea of the date or the day of the week. Some Junkers 88s flew over, quite low 鈥� say 2000 feet and we thought we were in trouble but a large number of pieces of paper fluttered down. We were told that the German army had captured Arras, Amiens and Abbeville, miles away on our left flank. Resistance was useless, or words to that effect. I happened to know where Abbeville was, at the mouth of the river Somme on the channel coast because my father had been in hospital there after being wounded in 1916. We said it was all propaganda and if they expected us to believe that! Some of these pieces of paper must still exist somewhere. Of course it was all too true but we didn鈥檛 know that at the time.

We heard that the Belgians had surrendered which didn鈥檛 surprise us because a week before we had come across soldiers, singly or in twos and threes and thought they might have been going home. Then we heard that the B.E.F. was being evacuated from Dunkirk. There seemed to be increasing air activity.

What a tempting target the main roads must have presented but they were mostly, Junkers 88, Heinkel 111鈥檚 or Dornier 17鈥檚 the flying pencils in formation, flying in the direction we were going. To the coast we thought. We had a wet cloudy day for which we were very thankful. I remember particularly a few Dorniers flying very low coming out of the clouds and surprising us. I don鈥檛 remember eating or where we slept 鈥� we must have done, somewhere. I do remember having a shave. A few of us approached a house across a field and asked an old lady for some l鈥檈au chaude. She didn鈥檛 understand until we made a shaving motion and said 鈥渨arm water鈥� which she kindly produced and we dipped our shaving brushes in and had a quick shave which was luxury because we hadn鈥檛 had a decent shave for many days. They weren鈥檛 wasting bombs on us but that day we were strafed by Messerschmidt 109鈥檚. A sight I shall never forget was Bombardier Nelson, one of our reservists, standing in the middle of the road with our old First World War Lewis gun on an A.A. mounting firing a magazine and reloading as they returned. We thought he was very brave or mad. Everyone had scattered in fields off the road and we 鈥� our little group, were not among the casualties. Not an easy job firing at planes so low and doing about 250 m.p.h. That was the day we disposed of our sultanas. We had eaten so many over the previous days that I decided to open the last box and see if the French infantry going in the opposite direction fancied them. About half of them accepted a double handful which I offered as they passed. A most peculiar accident that the two wooden boxes of sultanas were on board 鈥� our only food now and nobody fancied them we had eaten our fill! The road was really jammed and ambulances were trying to get through and we pushed damaged vehicles off the road, but it was slow progress.

Once or twice we came across British infantry in defensive positions looking as though they were straight from England. They told us that Boulogne and Calais had fallen and that the Germans weren鈥檛 far behind. We were now very hungry and thirsty and fed up. We were not going to make a stand but if we were lucky were to be evacuated to England from Dunkirk. The planes flew over again and we realized where they were all going, no wonder they seemed to have given up, more or less on us. The traffic jam was complete. I heard the R.A.F. cursed often and with fervour. What chance did we have with no air support? We got off the road and settled down for the night, in the open.

Soon after it was light as we were getting ourselves organised for what was to come that day there was a sudden shout of 鈥� Gas鈥� which was taken up by a hundred voices. The ground sloped gently away from us towards one of the many canals in that area about two hundred yards away. There was a solid white cloud about 4 feet high extended laterally as far as we could see which was moving inexorably towards us. Everyone felt for their gas mask. A few who had lost or dumped theirs turned and ran. There we were in these really uncomfortable gas masks when someone shouted that it was not gas but a thick mist. Not really willing to believe it was gas we removed our masks and were soon enveloped in this white cloud and feeling like idiots. Hardly anyone had seen a mist like this before. I have since, especially high above the Mawdach estuary in Wales, watching the mist moving up river towards Dolgellau.

This is where the transport was being destroyed. Everywhere men were taking parts from the engines of vehicles and smashing with rifle butts anything which could be wrecked. To our relief we spotted Captain Chrimes the 2 i/c of our battery, the first of our officers we had seen for days, which wasn鈥檛 surprising considering the shambles there had been. He had four guns with him and they were to be destroyed. One shell was rammed down the gun like one of the old muzzle loaders of the last six centuries. A shell was loaded as usual. A cord was attached to the firing mechanism. One by one from a safe distance the guns were fired and we were left with four sticks of celery on wheels 鈥� a sad sight. We were told to make our own way to Dunkirk. There were some French soldiers in good order moving the way we had come. One officer in a small jeep type vehicle stopped and went over to one of our huge R.A.O.C. mobile workshops which had been tipped into a ditch at an angle of 30 degrees. The petrol tank on these vehicles is between the driver鈥檚 cab and the workshop. I watched in fascination as he produced an automatic pistol and fired it at the petrol tank. Nothing happened. The slope of the vehicle meant that to be sure of getting petrol he had to fire lower down. The second time he made no mistake and the petrol gushed out. He calmly filled a jerry can and filled his vehicle and left the petrol making a pool in the road. The poor chap knew he wasn鈥檛 going very far.

French and British were inextricably mixed. We happened to be about 10 yards from a French vehicle with an A.A. machine gun mounted with a young soldier in charge. One after the other Messers came down the road. He grabbed the gun and bullets flew. In the excitement he had pulled the trigger before he had elevated the gun sufficiently although the planes were very low. Poor Jack Collins not more than 3 yards from me grabbed his stomach and collapsed. He had been hit in the groin. There were other casualties British and French. There was a field dressing station a short distance away, on the road. It was very busy as this was as far as ambulances could go. Four of us carried him in. The young doctor had a quick look and had him laid on a blanket. He said that we should get out of the way so we shook Jack鈥檚 hand, he was semi-conscious, and departed. I heard a shout 鈥淐orporal鈥� and ignored it. Again 鈥淐orporal鈥� louder and ignored it, nothing to do with me and then a bellow 鈥淚f you don鈥檛 stop I鈥檒l have you court martialled.鈥� I looked round to see what was happening and the doctor was looking at me in a particularly unfriendly way. I realized what was happening, I retraced my steps and apologised and explained that I had never been addressed as corporal before because I was a bombardier. He said 鈥� Whatever you are take that lot with you. They鈥檙e not supposed to be here.鈥� There were three rifles and several sets of webbing equipment 鈥� very heavy. I staggered out with the rifles and webbing equipment which I found was very heavy because the pouches contained hand grenades. I dumped the lot in the nearest ditch and found Bruce waiting for me up the road.

We arrived at a canal, the end of the scrap yard, the town of Bergues. In a field to our left was a battery of 3.7 A.A.guns firing at a group of bombers on their way to Dunkirk a few miles away. We asked a sergeant if we could scrounge something to eat. He gave us some biscuits and a drink 鈥� cognac which had been looted from a blitzed hotel. 鈥淭he only thing we鈥檝e got is ammunition鈥� he said "and at the rate we鈥檙e firing that will soon be finished and we鈥檒l wreck the guns and join the queue".

We were surprised to find that Bergues, although it had been bombed was not badly damaged 鈥� why waste bombs when there were better targets just up the road. There were a number of troops there but no more than a crowd queuing up to enter a football ground. We came to a square where a woman had set up a table with large jugs and glasses. I remember a large white enamel jug. We joined an orderly queue to have a drink. We were flabbergasted when a military police lance corporal came up to the queue and tried to break it up and move us on. Nobody took the slightest notice of him and some told him to f. off. He said 鈥淗ow do you know she鈥檚 not a fifth columnist, the water might not be all right?鈥� The brainwashing he must have had in training. A sergeant with a bandage round his head produced a remarkable string of swear words and poked him viciously with his rifle. He f鈥檇 off and there was a derisory cheer. We thanked the woman in our best French and wished her well and continued on our way.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.