大象传媒

Determined to follow in the tradition of my Grandfather and Father before me, I belied my age and joined the Territorial Army City of London Yeomanry (Rough Riders) R.H.A at the age of 17 on 15 August 1937. Both Grandfather and Father had been magnificent horsemen but, after only four rides at the Army School in St. John's Wood, to my disappointment the unit became mechanised. At some stage, it was mooted that the regiment was to receive Daimler Scout cars and adapt a role of reconnaissance duties but nothing came of it. Instead it was converted into a light anti-aircraft unit.

At the beginning of 1940, another battery relieved us of our duties of protection of the radar installations along the East Coast and we moved to Bere Regis in Dorset. We discovered that we were to form part of a new light anti-aircraft/anti-tank regiment, comprising two batteries of each, in support of the newly formed 1st Armoured Division and that we were to go to France immediately. There was no time to train with any of our colleagues, neither was there any combined plan of action. We did embark on an intensive toughening up programme with route marches every day. There was still no equipment to speak of and, in addition to the fitness build up, we trained in the usual aircraft recognition, tank identification and rifle drill (without rifles).

On 19th May 1940, the L.A.A batteries embarked from Southampton to Cherbourg. Amazingly we knew nothing of the desperate plight of the BEF.

Collecting our vehicles, we formed up in the area south of the port. Information was negligible or non-existent. The rest of the 1st Armoured Division was assembling all over the Cotentin Peninsula.

There was much to-ing and fro-ing with briefings and movement orders and yet the lower echelons of rank were kept in the dark. We were to advance eastwards to leaguer closer to the enemy where battle orders were to be given.

We were encamped south of Rouen for two days checking equipment and going through drill procedures. In those days the Officers reconnoitred gun positions taking with them a member of each gun detachment called a "coverer", who would be responsible for leading his detachment to the selected site. When the time arrived to deploy our guns, off went the officers with their coverers, never to be seen again! Precisely the same thing happened when at the next deployment the sergeants with coverers went ahead on reconnaissance. I know this seems hard to believe, but two days after deploying guns in anger, we had lost all our officers and senior NCOs ! But much worse things were happening. We never saw any signs of the armoured brigades and whether they moved up to engage the enemy at all I do not know, likewise the Infantry battalions in support. The only possible explanation could be that with the hard pressed BEF desperately needing support, the entire 1st Armoured Division, except ourselves, was taken over by the Army Commander BEF and were immediately involved in the rear guard action.

The roads were now becoming congested with French citizens moving westward with their goods and chattels. Firstly light lorries, then carts, some horse drawn. My little gun detachment conferred and decided that we ought to head eastwards to join "more of our kind". After all, we still had rifles, one Lewis gun and a few A/T mines. A couple of days later, we encountered a total traffic jam as the French Army had capitulated. Soldiers lay on the roadsides, rifles on the ground; those mounted regiments with their horses all over the place, cropping grass and blocking the roads. We learnt from a French Officer obviously all in and speaking with faltering English that the cause was lost, that the enemy had broken through, driving the British towards the coast, trying to encircle them. We had no maps but I seemed to have a slightly better knowledge of geography than my five colleagues had. One thing was certain, we had to leave the main road and go west or south-west. This was easier said than done and it took the rest of the day to break away from the congestion. When we stopped for the night we slept just off the roadside, with rifles and Lewis gun beside us. Fortunately the nights were warm.

We still had plenty of petrol in our 15cwt but one morning quite early while we were in the Abbeville area, a flight of Dornier 17's flew low over us, bombing the marshalling yards and later that day we experienced the first few motor cycle troops but as they drew closer it was impossible to open fire for fear of hitting innocent Frenchmen. There then followed fighter aircraft strafing the road and this continued for several days. The carnage was terrible with screams of children and their mothers. One would have thought that a lone army truck would have excited attention in amongst the country folks, pushing and pulling their carts and wheelbarrows but this didn't seem to be the case. We had draped the truck with fawn hessian and this had remained in place. We simply had to leave the road in order to make some better progress. I knew that Rouen was not all that far from Dieppe and although we didn't want to get too near the port, we started looking for a smallish place were we could forage for some food. There wasn't much in the village shops but we did get hold of some two or three day old bread, some cheese and some wine. As we headed southwards, we encountered a fork in the road with Dieppe to the right and St. Valery en Caux to the left. We chose the smaller town, St. Valery.

Camping outside the town, two of us walked into the town to reconnoitre. There were no Germans there but there was a lot of British which gave us heart. Parking the truck by the sea wall we unloaded and prepared for demolition, not realising at the time that the enemy would do it for us. The shelling began mid-morning and scores of men ran to the sea wall. My chums Budge, Ray and I settled for shelter in a school cut into the vertical chalk cliff. The shelling was heavy and sustained but during a respite we went to the sea wall to see what we could do to help the wounded. A Captain was organising the taking of the wounded back to a Field Hospital a few miles away. We were told to grab any vehicle. Budge, Ray and myself arranged to meet back at the school when the ferrying had finished.

At early evening the shelling started again but was not sustained this time. Budge and I met up but there was still no sign of Ray. That night we slept on the school room floor for a few hours but more shelling brought the ceiling down. The town was also ablaze so we considered that it would be safer to escape upwards rather than wait sheltered in a collapsing building. Arriving on the roof we could see that the school was cut into the cliff face with about a three foot jump between the building and the back of the school. Out on the roof, I leapt across the gap on to the sloping grassed cliff face and clung on waiting for Budge to follow. There was a crash and Budge had fallen through the roof. I called to him and he answered that he was unhurt and that we should rendezvous at the top of the cliff top. I clawed my way up the cliff and eventually in the shelter of a narrow hedge, a shell with that terrifying noise of a rushing train exploded behind me and hurt my right foot. A large splinter had torn off the sole of my boot so that it now hung hinged by the instep. Using a spare field dressing, I bandaged the sole back on and continued to climb, probably faster than before! It was night when I eventually gave up waiting for Budge. He was never seen again and the Missing Persons Bureau of the War Graves Commission was in correspondence with me requesting new information as late as 1946/47. Later, I also heard that Ray had been put in the bag when the Germans had overrun the Field Hospital.

At dawn I picked up a bren carrier and we hurtled along the cliff top to Veules les Roses, a small hamlet about 5 miles east of St. Valery. We could see the enemy only a field or two away. We took a narrow cliff path down to the beach and it was there that I met up with a couple of Rough Riders belonging to the 43rd, Bdr Norman Vose and Charlie Chase. A few yards along the beach there was a clinker built boat upside down. Together we pushed the boat into the sea and paddling with our hands we seemed to make satisfactory progress until we were well out of our depth. We suddenly realised there was much more water in the boat than when we had launched it and that we were sinking! We had no alternative but to swim back to the shore.

Wet through and exhausted, we walked along under the cliff face seeking shelter. We found a small fault in the cliff face which had been enlarged by successive high tides and rough seas which made it possible for two men to crawl inside and sit upright with their backs to the wall and for the third (me) to lie down in the entrance drawing stones up as a protective barrier. My haversack contained a bottle of cognac, one of rum and one of creme de menthe of all things, plus a camembert. The other two went to sleep but heavy machine gunning from both sides of the beach never let up.

Just before light, I ventured outside to a balmy night and walked to the water's edge. Looking out to sea I offered up a prayer to the Almighty saying "if You are going to save me, You'd better hurry!" and as I peered out towards the sea, I perceived the bow of a destroyer sailing towards me! I turned to run back and awaken my colleagues but others had seen it too so that when we got to the water's edge, where a lifeboat had scraped ashore, there were quite a number of men around it clambering aboard. Already wet once, I endeavoured to climb over the prow of the boat, when a Frenchman, using me as a climbing frame, knocked me back into the water.

Thoroughly disheartened and soaking wet, I returned to the cave and with a swig of cognac fell fast asleep. I awakened in the middle of the afternoon to absolute hell with Stukas dive bombing the beach. There were queues of men snaking out into the water but not able to wait hours for delivery, I entered the sea to swim towards the direction of a lifeboat about halfway between the beach and mother ship. I soon got into difficulties! Once I was pulled aboard and recovered, my rescuer told me that seeing a steel helmet seemingly floating on the water, he lifted it and found Pinkham! By the time the lifeboat had drawn along side the mother ship, I was sufficiently recovered to leap on to the scrambling net and heave myself aboard. When we got underway to sail to Southampton, our boat threw a line to a small boat carrying a few men but a parting shot came over and blew the little boat to smithereens. It was pathetic to see the shattered timber and warp dragging astern with nothing attached to it. So near, yet so far!

The WVS was at the dockside with hot tea and buns. We were whisked up to Longbridge Deverill, where we bathed, dressed in new clothes, slept, were debriefed, given some money, a railway warrant and a 48 hour leave pass!

Of the 120 men of the C.O.L.Y only 45 returned and our deliverance was 15 days after Dunkirk! I never did find out whether Norman and Charlie made it.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.