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Part II C

Merville and Estaires were the next places of interest, we again came to rest in a farmyard for a few days. Our life here was quite exciting, bombers roared over in dozens day to day, shelling was fairly frequent and work was going strong. It was here that we lost our first prisoners to the Germans, they were a bridge guard which could not be relieved and the O.C. would not let anybody else go out ti try and get them, so they had to fall into the hands of the enemy. Number two Section was also split up by advancing German Tanks but managed to collect together after a few days of separation, I believe there were many incidents which we did not hear about at the time. One day we had quite a lot of bombing from Stuka Dive Bombers, very unpleasant things believe me. After the raid another bunch of planed came over and dropped leaflets which kindly told us that we were surrounded by the enemy, our ration supplies were going to be cut off, and all the Coastal Ports would fall into the enemy’s hands on the following day. This was impossible, we laughed and kept the leaflets as souvenirs, we learnt how true they were at a later date. The time came to retreat again, the convoy moved off with German planes roaring overhead, we only hoped that a mist of some description would cover us from the planes. We bumped along the traffic laden roads for a few hours and then stopped. Orders were given to the effect that all transport was to be smashed and we were to carry only the clothing and kit which we needed for a long walk, things were going from bad to worse. The trucks were smashed and all explosives were rendered useless and the march began. What was happening? Where were we going? The answers nobody knew but just kept marching, the roads were crowded with transport of every description, this was all like a puzzle but we managed to realize that we were really on the run and appreciated the gravity of the situation, we were then told that we were marching to Dunkirk, which was somewhere on the French coast. As we went along we threw more clothing away to make our load lighter, a mist began to fall and gave us a certain amount of cover from the air, we had several attacks but no one was injured………on we marched. WE managed to get a short journey in a R.A.S.C. truck which intended to go until the petrol ran out, that did not take us very far!! The men were getting tired, feet were getting hotter, and tempers were getting shorter, but on they marched wondering and hoping but not caring. All along the roads lorries were burning, guns were being smashed and every piece of equipment rendered useless for the enemy. The whole march lasted for fourteen hours, in that time we covered forty two miles, a march which was not easily forgotten. We rested for a while and had some type of meal, sleep was needed most of all so we slept where we could. More bridges were to be blown by the Company, N.C.O’s were detailed and other men asked to volunteer, some did, until enough men were available for the various tasks. Other men were sent out to find food for the rest of the Unit, where they found it did not matter. In the end the O.C. decided to send the rest of the Unit down to the beach in the hope of getting them away, that only left the working parties behind. The Infantry were digging in along the canal banks but did not have much ammunition left so were not feeling very cheerful. Men from all Units were made into Infantry to help keep off the fast approaching enemy so that some of the boys could get away from the beach. While this was happening, the German ring was closing in and the B.E.F was being cut off, that Great Little Army was paying for the mistakes of the people who ran England before the war, the kid glove methods has failed, and failed miserably. The various bridges were prepared for demolition and names were put into a hat for men to stay behind to blow the bridges when the time came, fortunately the unlucky one arrived safely back in England. I saw one man in the Infantry sitting by his Anti-Tank Rifle and laughing, I asked him why he was laughing, he sad “I have a fine gun here but no ruddy ammunition”, that man had dug his position which later turned out to be his grave, and so many other fine fellows went the same way, but who was to know. The time came for us to return to our rendezvous, there we found the O.C. and several other of the boys waiting by a truck which would take us to Dunkirk, we climbed in and the last journey in France started. Dunkirk presented a strange sight, all the houses were demolished, but the chimney stacks still remained looking down on the bloodstained streets like sentinels in the sky. The Casino was but an empty shell, the sea-front was wrecked beyond repair, while the beach still held long lines of men waiting for some type of boat to take them back to England, what would happen to us? We crossed the sand, once a golden sand on which holiday makers played, now a bloody sand where our comrades had died. On we walked until we came to a small jetty, or what was left of it, we looked over the side, and in the darkness of the night we saw a small fishing boat tied to the jetty, we climbed down a very small ladder and landed on the deck, the boat was only made for fishing purposes so one can imagine how the troops were cramped on board, but they did not care because they knew that they had a chance of seeing England again. Shells were landing at regular intervals on the beach, the rattle of machine guns could be heard around Dunkirk slowly getting nearer, more of the B.E.F were falling in battle and we were going home. What were the thoughts in the mens minds? Not the thought of going back to England, they were almost past caring at this stage, they looked upon themselves as part of a beaten Army, sent out to fight an enemy who was superior in numbers and equipment, sent out without enough arms to do justice to themselves. They blamed the ‘muddle headed politicians’ who had been running the country, the men who had sent the B.E.F to France, - the B.E.F returned beaten in every sense of the word, it was pronounced as a “Glorious Retreat” or a “Victory”. The sands were blood red from where our boys were buried, they had given their lives for this so-called ‘Victory’, someone had blundered and done it badly, while the youth of England paid with their lives for other peoples mistakes, the men of the B.E.F. were bewildered and embittered….England across the water, but many men would never see her green fields again.
Our little ship pulled away from the jetty, shells were still exploding and the machine guns were getting nearer to the beach, we were gliding over the placid waters of the English Channel leaving Dunkirk behind, a vivid red glare rising to the skies,- the vivid glare faded into the distance, but it faded as a symbol of the blood that our comrades has shed so that we might live and return to England.
Dawn broke and we once again saw the shores of Blighty, a wonderful sight to a tired soldier. A little while later our brave ship cast her lines on English soil, all was made fast and we disembarked. The B.E.F. set foot on their Mother country once again, a tired, unshaven and dirty collection of humanity who had left the same shores a few months earlier full of confidence and hope, certain of a great victory over the Nazi hoardes, only to be sent back with the tables turned, they were physically tired but they had one thing left…. A Tommy’s sense of humour and faith for the future, and the hopes that there would be no more mistakes for which they would suffer. And so one of the most critical stages of the war was ending, we were back but our thoughts were with the boys who had fought and were still fighting so that we might live….. our other comrades lay buried in the soil of France, to them, no tribute will ever be great enough. To the Navy we took off our hats, for without them all would have been lost.

FOOTNOTE.
We often said many hard things about the R.A.F because we saw very little of them, but we realized that our air strength was far too small, who was to blame for that we shall never know, but we did know that the boys who flew the ’Kites’ over France did a grand job even if they were fighting a losing battle.

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NOTE:

The following poem, about Dunkirk, was with my Fathers’ notes, dated 14/11/40 at Kedleston Camp, and sent to my Mother on 28/6/41

DUNKIRK 1940

“To the boys we left behind”.

208 R.E. — “B.E.F”

We heard them bark,
We heard them roar,
Hurtling death on the sandy shore,
Every crevice, every hole, was full of the dead, beside the mole

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Their life had gone, just snatched away,
Never to know the dawn of another day,
The folks at home, across the foam, knew,
That their dear ones fought and fell,
In a town that was once a place of peace,
But then a living hell

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The men that died, they died for us,
Their duty they did not shirk,
Let us not forget those men,
Whom we buried there,
In the sands at Dunkirk

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Continued in Part III

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