大象传媒

My Dad died this year after a long,successful and fulfilled life.He was however,trapped in a timewarp that was Dunkirk,1940.

I am his his youngest son,born a generation after that time having enjoyed nothing but the fruits of peace.Stories of adventure and war films were the experiences of my youth.Who were these names on church gates,memorials,senotaph and cemeteries?

My father,grandfather and great uncle all wore khaki,the latter two in both wars,and yet my family was untouched by loss.The family has flourished down the generations.

My father was a medical orderly and after a year in Belgium under fire was finally in action on the Beaches of Dunkirk and La Panne.For three weeks he tended broken bodies on the beaches,no thought of evacuation,in fact staying with the wounded to be captured was his likely way out of Dunkirk.How do you cope under such circumstances?....Mates(he would say over the safety of a pint in a snug pub many years later)got you through.

My Dad's mate was a man named Hopkinson who had joined up before war was declared,the only son of a first war widow.They'd got through to Dunkirk together but Dad knew his friend was fading and empty inside.Countless times through the day,day after day they were bombed,shelled and machine gunned courtesy of the Luftwaffe.You threw yourself to the ground and prayed,watched and idlely speculated whether you would be inbetween the lines of machine gun bullets as they danced up to you....or not.

Once again that day the cry went up.."Stukas,take cover!!!"
Dad watched and waited,then saw his friend paralysed with fear standing bolt upright looking at him completely unable to move.

That family ended that day.

So when I wear a poppy I remember that forgotton family and the future that never was.

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