大象传媒

1It is difficult to know where to start this story of my adventures.
I am going to write it in plain straightforward language without frills of any kind. I can, however, assure anyone who reads it that it is a true story and actually happened.
My regiment, 1st Bhn. Gordon Highlanders, went to France on 21st September, 1939, and after various billets was posted to Lille. We passed the winter and early spring there, got friendly with some of the townsfolk who were kind and very interested in us. In the late spring we were shifted up to the Belgium frontier, a place called Cysoing, and when eventually Hitler made his onslaught on 10th May we were in the thick of some of the heaviest and most bitter fighting of that bitter six weeks. Just after this Andy Logan was killed at the Grande Bois de Cambion, two weeks after Dunkirk. On 12th June, in front of the Maginot Line we were near St. Valery, fighting as gamely as ever men fought and being hard pressed from every side, when the news leaked out that France had capitulated on the previous night, and that the order had been given to cease fire. We were astounded at the news, and at first would not believe it. Gradually we realised its truth, and the consequences to ourselves. On every side we were surrounded by Germans who outnumbered us in men and guns. They closed in on us rapidly and on the 12th and 13th they rounded us up, and we were prisoners of War. They marched us south of St. Valery and actually were marching us in a semi-circle. We were going three abreast, and at the head and tail of the column there was a motor truck with a machine gun mounted. Every twenty yards or so there was an armed sentry in charge of so many prisoners. The sentries did not show us any kind of consideration, and the one in charge of my lot amused himself at various intervals by selecting a prisoner to whom he delivered a good hard kick in the pants. I was on his selection list, and just had to grin and bear it. Food was bad and scarce. In the morning we got a chunk of bread which had a rotten sour taste, and at night we were given a cup of dirty bean soup. The Germans said we started the War so we had to take what was left. We had been on the march for eleven days and on the morning of 24th June we were passing through a small village called Monticourt about 8.30. On the outskirts of the village there was a little farm, the gate leading to which was open. It was a hot sultry morning and my spirits were pretty low, but that open gate put new life into me, and I decided to try to escape. This escape was planned the night before as we lay in a quarry with no shelter and it was pouring with rain. It was a do-or-die plan which came off. At a window of the farmhouse a French woman was throwing out food to our fellows as they passed along, but taking care not to let the Germans see her. I wasn't bothering about the food, the gate was my only consideration and I had to make my mind up quickly. If I failed in my attempt I would be shot as two other fellows had been the previous day for trying to escape. The gate was at a sharp bend in the road and when I was opposite it I made one dive for it, and two other fellows followed me. There was a little shed near the gate and we made straight for it, and flung ourselves down on the floor. Outside the column was passing slowly along and we lay watching it with mixed feelings. For two and a half hours we lay in the little shed beside two dirty little French pigs and the stench was appalling. About 11 o'clock in the forenoon we decided to leave the pig-sty and strike across the fields to the little village of La Rouche. The sun was shining and the day was beautiful, and as we crossed the fields our spirits soared. We were free men again, and our liberty was very sweet. On the outskirts of La Rouche we went into a little farmhouse and asked the woman for food. She was a stout middle-aged woman with rather fine sad eyes, and at first she seemed quite at a loss as to what to do. Then she said "Oui, Oui" and pointed to a small wood and signed to us to hide there. We went into the wood and lay watching and waiting for the food she had promised. Soon a little French boy came to us bringing white bread, butter, jam and hard boiled eggs. The news of our presence soon spread through La Rouche and all afternoon and evening we had little French boys and girls coming to us with food parcels. We had been without decent food for nearly two weeks and managed to dispose of all they sent us. At night-fall the woman from the farm came up to see us, and brought with her a shirt, pair of trousers and overalls for each. We buried our uniforms in the wood and gave her our Army great coats which were practically new. We left the wood shortly after her visit and decided to make for Arras where we hoped to fall in with our own Army. We walked most of the night, but in the morning we found, to our great disgust, that we had travelled round in a circle and were back in La Rouche. We rested for a couple of hours and started off again. Fortunately we met a French civilian, and asked him the route to Arras. He wrote out the names of the places we passed on our way - La Cauchie, Bailleulmont, Balleuval,Basseux, Riviere. The district we were in lies between the Nord and the Somme, and the people were really decent to us. They gave us food and tried to help us in every way, but could not give us any news as to what was happening. About four kilometres from Arras we met a Frenchman and asked him for news. He told us the Germans were in possession and the British away. We knew nothing of Dunkirk. We were stunned at this news and felt that the game was up for us. We turned back from Arras, and, Kelly, one of the fellows who had escaped with me, decided to take a farm job. He eventually got fixed up on a farm about four kilometres from Arras. Gray, the other fellow, and I struck out for Douleons, a farming village near Monticourt, with the intention of taking a farm job in that district. We arrived in Douleons on 30th June and easily got work on a farm there. The farmer knew we were British soldiers and we worked about the farm doing all sorts of jobs and living in a bothy. At the end of the week we asked him for our wages, and were very disgusted when we found out he had not the slightest intention of giving us wages, food and board only. Food consisted of bread and milk only. This arrangement did not suit us at all, and after talking it over we decided to try some other farm. He had threatened to turn us over to Germans. We had noticed a couple of old bicycles in a shed so in the afternoon when the farm was quiet we took them and hid them near the bothy. On the Saturday night we turned in early and slept until 2.30 on the Sunday morning. It was a thick, grey morning, rather dark, and rain was falling steadily. In the bothy where we slept there were several smoked hams hanging up, and I suggested we would take one in lieu of wages. Gray was more than agreeable so we cut one down, and wrapped it up. At the farm there was a big brute of an Alsatian, and when we were about to make our get-away he started to bark and create the most infernal row. We did our best to quieten him, but it was no good and in sheer desperation I cut a large hunk from another ham and threw it to him. It kept him busy for a while and we got away without further difficulty. Our plan was that we should make for Paris via Amiens. We got along fairly well and were soon passing through very badly devastated country. Village after village lying in ruins, the work of the same mad dog who had twenty-five years ago devastated the same countryside. At this stage we were getting on each others' nerves and, going through one of the villages which was occupied by Germans, we started to argue with each other. You can imagine the looks we were getting as Gray was an Aberdonian and I came from Dalkeith. We had no news of what was happening, and both Gray and I hoped to get in touch with the British Authorities. Near Amiens we spoke to a French civilian who told us Amiens was in German hands and that they were stopping everyone who entered the town. We went back to a place called Corbie and crossed the Somme by a narrow bridge there. A German sentry was posted at this bridge so we said we were Belgium refugees. He merely shrugged his shoulders and let us pass. When we had crossed the Somme we decided to try to cut across country so we left the footpath and took to the fields. We struck a bad patch here as the ground was marshy, and soon we were covered with muck. We kept on, however, and eventually reached the small village of St. Jus. There were large concentrations of German troops in the neighbourhood. We were stuck again and felt that luck was dead against us. We sat down by the side of the road and talked things over. Our best plan appeared to be to go back to the district between the Nord and the Somme and take another farm job. When we got back to the outskirts of Corbie, Gray thought it best to cross the Somme by the small footbridge, but I wanted to try the main road bridge at Corbie. Gray would not do this so we split company. I cycled down the road to the main Corbie bridge and my heart gave one leap when I saw two German sentries posted on the bridge. However, I could not turn back as that would immediately have attracted their attention to me so I cycled up to the bridge with a heart going at double speed. There was a good bit of refugee traffic on the bridge, and it was not being stopped. Army trucks, a few private cars, horse drawn carts and bicycles. As I drew opposite the sentries I called out "Bon Jour" and half raised my hand in salute. I cannot tell whether they replied or not, but they did not challenge me in any way, and gradually my heart resumed its normal beat. I cycled round the most dangerous spots of Arras, and at last got past the danger zone. I remember Kelly was on the farm near Arras and decided to go and see him. When I was passing through Basseux the sky overcast, and the rain came in torrents. I was soaked to the skin when I eventually reached the farm. I asked the farmer for Kelly, but he was rather ungracious and said Kelly was working on another part of the farm and I could not see him. I asked him if I could shelter in his barn for the night and reluctantly he agreed, but he would not give me a bag to keep me dry.

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