大象传媒

Josiah (Joss) Brownbill was a BEF soldier, because he joined the Territorials in 1938 (his father had served in WW1). He was called up in September 1939 and went for training at Catterick. He was taught how to dig a trench for weeks on end. He was not taught how to fire a gun! He was sent to France in early 1940 with the Royal Engineers, with a shovel, his total equipment. He didn't have a gun. It all went pear-shaped and he found himself running for his life. He didn't see an officer from the moment the withdrawal was declared. At one point his unit was running across a field near Arras, with one gun between them and a German tank after them. Joss grabbed the gun and fired at the tank. Happily he hit it. The rest of the unit said "Bloody hell, Brownbill, you'd better keep this gun cos you can use it", So he did. Eventually, they fetched up in Dunkirk. After 3 attempts to board boats, up to his neck in water, in single file, turned back time and time again, he and a mate decided to walk north to Belgium (La Panne). They hadn't eaten for 3 days, they were dehydrated and desperate. They left the beach and managed to catch a small pig which they slaughtered, (using the gun) cooked and ate. It wasn't pretty because they fell asleep in the dunes surrounded by entrails and guts from the pig. Another member of their unit passed by, saw them collapsed with their guts all over the beach and reported them as dead to the first officer he came across. Joss and his mate continued north, unaware of their colleague's impression. They were reported dead, telegrams home etc. A few days later they managed to get a boat off the beach, got to Ramsgate, were given tea, cakes and cigarettes and put on trains, and finally got back to St. Helens, Lancs. Joss walked in and his mother who'd received a telegram 4 days earlier to the effect that he was dead, fell to her knees and touched him all over, weeping. She couldn't believe it. Through his ordeal he'd lost his helmet, boots and the gun; he got charged for all of it. Joss went on to serve in North Africa with Montgomery (a Desert Rat), Italy (he was shot through both legs at Monte Casino), he helped build a bridge over the Arno at Florence, he served in Greece and Palestine, but to this day he has no time for officers after Dunkirk (where were they?) or the RAF (where were they?) Like so many of his generation, they were flung into traumatic situations with inadequate training and no idea of the 'bigger picture'. Joss is 87 now, totally deaf and losing his eye-sight rapidly. He still lives in Lancashire. He won't join the British Legion, won't 'go back' (except he did with us (in the early 80s)on a day trip to pay respect to his mates in the war graves at Dunkirk) won't acknowledge that he is officially a veteran, and won't talk to his son, my husband about any of it. He has talked at length to me and my son, and he's given all his medals to his grandson, but not to his son. I think he's afraid that if he talks to his son he'll glamourise a ghastly memory. He doesn't want his son in a war, ever, because he loves him and needs to protect him, for ever.

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