大象传媒

The year was 1940, the darkest time of World War II in England. Bombs rained down over our towns and cities. There was no relief as the air raid sirens screamed in the middle of the night and we ran to whatever bomb shelter we had. Many nights, my Grandmother and I huddled together under the stairs. There was barely enough room to stand, but my Grandmother had placed a tin of biscuits on a shelf in case a bomb fell on our house and we were miraculously saved. Talk about optimism!

Meanwhile, my fianc茅, later to be my husband, and his battalion were retreating in France. Hitler had ignored the Marginot Line that the French thought would keep the German army at bay and had just marched through neutral Belgium.

The soldiers were pushed onto the beaches of Dunkirk while being barraged by bullets and bombs. Most of the allies had already been rescued by staunch patriots who risked their lives crossing the English Channel in a variety of sea-worthy vessels, however, my fianc茅's battalion of two hundred men remained on the Dunkirk beach waiting to be killed or taken prisoner.

Suddenly on the horizon a small black object appeared. As it came closer, they realized that it was a coal barge piloted by an old man searching the coastline to rescue the boys who had been left behind. Two hundred soldiers cheered as he drew closer. The boys waded into the sea, scrambled on the barge and the old man steered the barge through a mine field to the safety of the British coast.

Weary, their uniforms covered with blood and coal dust, the soldiers were taken to the closest army base and issued new uniforms. They were given a few days leave, then they were off again to battle, fighting against a tyranny we hoped we would never see again.

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