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I was born in ’31 so would have been 9 or 10 in when the great retreat of Dunkirk took place. My younger brother would have been three years younger.

We were sharing a bath (well hot water was a luxury) when Mum came in with a very worried look on her face. Be good she said — I have to go to see Mrs XXXX next door. Mrs XXXX was an elderly, widowed lady who lived all on her own.

Mum was gone for ages and we were getting cold when she returned and for the first time ever we saw her in tears. We just didn’t understand what was wrong but later we learned that Mrs XXXX had just received the dreaded telegram saying that her only Son was ‘Reported missing, presumed dead’, at Dunkirk.

One of many thousands of course.

We had to move house shortly afterwards because Dad had to lay the car up and cycle to work but I often wondered about Mrs XXXX. Just another life of loneliness I suppose

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