大象传媒

This story has been written to the 大象传媒 People's War site by CSV Storygatherer Coralie, on behalf of Peter Davey. The story has been added to the site with his permission, and Peter fully understands the terms and conditions of the site.

The West Hoe area of 65 years ago was a far cry from the West Hoe of today. Then it was a vibrant community with a printing works, a sweet factory, shops including a co-operative store, a garage, The Ballard Institute* and last but not least, the GWR docks.

It was to these docks, in early June 1940, that the GWR tenders returned, not carrying the famous personalities from the great ocean liners, but loaded to the gunwhales with exhausted troops rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk.

From where I lived, in Edgecombe Place, it was possible to see what was taking place and for a closer look there were the corrugated roofs of the timber storage, known as the 'lids'.

People gathered on the pavements leading from the dock entrance to Millbay. The troops, British/French/Belgian marched on in columns of three, silently. My mother and I were standing outside our home. We knew the column was on the way because there began a ripple of applause which grew louder as the survivors drew nearer. Not overt applause but a gently appreciative clapping.

It must have been a Monday because it was wash-day. After a while my mother left me to my own devices.

Watching the service men go by you could not help noticing that whilst some were wearing full uniform, men were making do with disparate forms of clothing, including blankets. With the numbers involved, entraining at the Millbay Station would take quite a while and so the men were fell-out. The slopes of the Millbay Park were soon filled and the pavements became a resting place for the remainder.

To me initially the full impact of what I was seeing did not strike a chord, until I came across a group of French soldiers, with their distinctive uniforms and steel helmets, lying in the entrance way of The Ballard Institute. There was no way we could communicate except by smiles, and one of them fished in his pockets and handed me a small bar of chocolate. I took it knowing no better, being only 7 years old at the time, and with a cheery wave went to show my mother. She was angry and I was given a severe dressing down, as it was explained to me in no uncertain terms that his need was greater than mine and I should not have taken it.

Later in the Millbay Park I met up with a small group of naval men who were sitting in the June sunshine; the weather was idyllic; wearing a mixed selection of clothing. One without adequate footwear asked if I knew of anyone who had an old pair of boots to spare.

I t was washday, as I have said, and my mother, her mother and my aunts were in the washhouse where the boilers were steaming away and the floor was awash. My unexpected arrival was not too well received as I was holding up proceedings, but my youngest aunt, Thelma, when I explained my reason for being there took time to find me an old pair of boots belonging to my grandfather. I rushed back to the park where the boots were gratefully received, and more importantly they fitted.

Although we must have been a nuisance, the men answered our questions good-naturedly, and overall there was an air of contented relief, due I feel in no small part to the glorious June weather.

Soon it was dinnertime and I rushed back to tell my mother all that had happened. Gulping down my meal, I hurried along with my pals back to the park only to find it empty. To our great disappointment, whilst we had been at home all the troops had been entrained at Millbay Station. I still feel guilty about that chocolate bar!

* The Ballard Institute was a Boys' Club, which provided activities such as ping-pong and boxing etc. for the boys in the area. It was run by Cassanova Ballard who was a millionaire philanthropist. He gave each one a Christmas present, and any boy from a poor background was also provided with clothing.

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