大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War site by the 大象传媒 Learning Centre on behalf of William Lake, from Bromsberrow Heath, Ledbury, with his permission.
The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

It's the summer of 1940, June to be precise. I am almost four years old. My parents are living in Paris as Dad is Continental manager for Raphael Tuck, publishers of greetings cards, etc. I am on holiday with my French grandmother and great aunt in central France in the village of Cerilly.

My parents, being British, decided it is advisable to get out of France quickly as the Germans are invading. They drive down to pick up the three of us to make a rapid run for the coast at Bordeaux.

After the pickup we drive to meet British friends but we are soon stopped by the army to be told the Germans have over-run where we are to meet. Dad therefore sets off for the coast.

The going is very slow because of all the refugees and the army has set up road blocks as there is no way they can all leave the country. Dad, however, has been given a pass to get through the road blocks.

After two days at the wheel Dad says he must stop. We bed down in a farm. At two in the morning Mother has a nightmare that the Germans have caught us. We leave immediately. The village was over-run by Germans in the morning.

On reaching Bordeaux the queue at the British Consul goes all round the block. Near the head of the queue are our friends and we slip them our passports for processing.

Unfortunately my grandmother and great-aunt are French and not allowed to leave. That was the last time I saw my grandmother. She died on D-Day.

Our car, a Salmson, was only six months old and was bought by a German officer.

We reach the embarkation point and an air raid starts. We all take over under upturned lifeboats. It goes on into the night. When we get out after the raid there is a fire in the middle of the harbour. It is the boat that is to take us to the UK. What now?

In the morning a Dutch cargo boat is passing on its way up to the English Channel and it is radioed to stop and pick us up. Seven hundred and fifty people are ferried out to a boat with accommodation for 50. People will have to sleep on deck.

When we are all aboard the captain says he will not take any British citizens so we must get off. Dad and his friend go to the bridge and sit there, saying we are not moving. The ferries have gone back to shore. The captain agrees that if a British crew can be found to take over his boat we can stay. Luckily a British warship is not far away and 20 armed marines arrive and we sail. Two days later we land in Falmouth.

Years later, just before Dad died, I found out why we were given a pass to get out of France. He had been working for British Intelligence between the wars gathering information during his business travels.

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