大象传媒

This is the story of my father's evacuation from the beaches of Dunkirk in May 1940 as told by him in a short story entitled 'Who were those people at Poperinge'.

My father was T/75991 John Leslie Newlove R.A.S.C. Troop Carrying Convoy.

On 24th May 1940 at 10.15 a.m. he was on a narrow lane outside Brussels, Belgium. With him in his lorry was George Morton. The platoon officer came by in his jeep. He stood up and shouted " We're going back. Make for Poperinge. You're on your own" With that he sat down and was driven off without a second thought for his troops.

Five minutes later they were on the main road. The road was choked full of refugees and even in the lorry they could only go at a slow walking pace. The route was continually bombed and strafed by stukas. Infantrymen were walking in the middle of the fields. He called to them to offer them a lift. "No thanks" came the reply "It's much too dangerous in a lorry".

It wasn't until the next day at 11.00p.m. that they reached Poperinge. As they went through the village my father saw a building on the left. It looked like the village hall and it had lights on. He decided to take a look inside. He opened the door slowly and quietly. Inside he saw 25 - 30 high ranking officers. They were in red jackets, decorations galore across their chests and plumes in brass helmets. He had no idea what country they represented. As far as he was concerned they could have been Belgium, Polish, French, even German. He closed the door just as quietly but this time quickly and beat a hasty retreat.

They moved about 200 yards down the road and heard machinegun fire. It was Red Caps at the crossroads firing at looters. They instructed My father to carry on to Dunkirk.

27th May 6.00 a.m. - Arrived at the perimeter, eight miles from the beach, and instructed by R.E.S. to drive into a field and leave the lorry. As soon as they got out of the lorry it was connected up to explosives ready for destruction. My father and George Morton set off on the long walk to the beaches. Either side of the road were ditches full of disgarded vehicles and goods. He kept checking various vehicles to see what he could find:- a shaving kit, a haversack, pack of 200 galoises cigarettes, bottle of liquor made by the monks (Chartreuse Golden?)and two packs of army biscuits (Hard Tack) (no there wasn't a cuddly toy!!).

He spent the next 72 hours on Dunkirk beach under the command of a beach master. On his orders men would go down to the waters edge hoping that they would get into one of the little boats ferrying people out to sea. All this under constant strafing of the beaches by the Germans. After this my father made no further mention of George and I do not know what became of him.

Eventually it was his turn to get onto a naval boat and he was then pushed into the wardroom. A whisper went round to say that they were all going to get a mug of cocoa and a sandwich. No such luck. They took two direct hits on the stern guns and the casualties were brought into the wardroom and placed on the tables for the medics to look at. Luck was certainly against them at the moment as they took another two bombs midship and the order came to abandon ship. A minesweeper came alongside and those who were able to scrambled across. By now it was getting dusk and the captain decided that he had a full load and moved off.

My father estimated that there were more than 200 men, not including the crew, stood eight deep around the ship. There could be no talking and no smoking for fear of enemy submarines or aeroplanes. As a result of having to evade the minefield the journey took eighteen hours. When they finally arrived at Ramsgate everything was waiting for them on the jetty:- mugs of tea, sandwiches and official cards to be filled in with name, rank, number and home address.

He was then hurried on to a waiting train - DESTINATION UNKNOWN.

He arrived at Scot Greys Training Barracks, Weedon. He was given two blankets and told to bed down on the shredded bark floor. HE RECEIVED NO COUNSELLING. He slept for 36 hours.

They were all given an advance payment of a blue 拢1 note. Most of them, including my father, chose to go down to the village pub and have a drink.

The next day he was put on a train and arrived at a tented field. They were organised into various units. Thirty-six hours later he was on another train - AGAIN DESTINATION UNKNOWN.

The train pulled into Mexborough Station in Yorkshire. He assembled with the rest of the men on the platform and as they marched off a brass band struck up the music. He was taken to the recreation ground and, in parties of 25, were marched across the road to the council estate. They were billeted here in one's, two's and three's for the next nine weeks.

During this time he was re-kitted out completely and, in turn, small parties were given seven days leave.

Accidently his landlady heard the clink of a bottle when she moved his haversack. She and her husband offered him 拢5 (three weeks wages) for the bottle. "Sorry" he said "but I promised my wife that I would bring her back a bottle of wine".

Finally his turn came for leave. At long last he could see how his daughter, Nora, was growing up. "Get the glasses out" he said to Mary, his wife. He poured out a couple of small nips and watched her face as she took a drink. "I don't like it" she said. After all that he had been through, and the landlady's offer, he was very disappointed. Never mind they would look forward to another day when they could have a drink together to savour.

All too soon the leave was over and it was back to the realities of war.

On returning they were sent to various municipal garages to pick up single-decker buses circa 1917-18 and take them to the rear of Doncaster racecourse. They were now the '30 Motor Company' - ready for action.

My father survived the war after spending time in North Africa and Southern Italy, ending the war as part of S.O.E.

He died in August 2000 at the age of 82. He recalled many of his memories of his war time service but his greatest wish was to find out "Who were those people at Poperinge" - He never did.

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