大象传媒

This is an extract from my fathers recollections of his time as a 19 year old sergeant with the BEF in 1940.

"The 30th May 1940, dawned with the welcome sight of a heavy mist. The mist and low cloud hung around for the best part of the day and there was little or no sign of the Luftwaffe. Obviously, this was a blessed relief for the increasing numbers of Allied troops now arriving on the sands, especially this one!

Not long afterwards, a Captain, who, having only just arrived, was unsure about what the routine was, approached me. I explained to him that, from what I had heard from others on the beach, the idea was to collect a group of between 40 and 60 men, with an Officer and an NCO. Once that had been done, the Officer had to report to the Embarkation Officer, and he would issue a number to the group. When that number was called the group could come forward on to the Mole and head for a ship. I have to say that, speaking as a non-swimmer, this appealed to me far more than the idea of wading out to a small rowing boat rocking about in the waves off shore!

Well, I must have explained things clearly because the Captain asked if I would act as his NCO- which I readily agreed to do-and we set about gathering our group of men. Needless to say it didn鈥檛 take very long and soon we took our place in the queue, and reported our availability to the Embarkation Officer.

Whilst we waited, we sheltered in shell holes, or amongst the dunes, and as the numbers were called out we moved, in a fairly orderly pattern, up the beach.

To assist him, the Embarkation Officer would instruct an Officer from one of the waiting groups to call out the group numbers, telling them when it was their turn to leave the beach and head out onto the Mole. When that officers own group was one or two away from the head of the queue he would return to it, and another Officer, from a group some ten or so further back would be called forward to replace him, and so on.

As it happened 鈥渕y鈥� Captain was called forward. He, however, complained that he was suffering from a sore throat, and so he asked me if I would accompany him to the head of the queue and call out the numbers for him. I was a bit concerned about leaving our group as, without them, I imagined being sent to the back of the queue that we had spent all day moving up! Nevertheless, I did as I was asked and joined the Captain and the Embarkation Officer.

By now it was getting late into the afternoon of 30th May 1940, and the Germans were close enough to begin shelling the beach. I assessed the situation carefully, and decided that whilst calling out the group numbers the best place to stand would be as close as I could to the Embarkation Officer, who was a Brigadier. I took this decision on the grounds that you did not hear of that many Brigadiers being killed in action! I think that the Brigadier must have thought he had acquired a new shadow!

Eventually the Captain and I were allowed to return to our own group-which much to my surprise was still intact and where it should be! Shortly after, and just as our number was being called, our number was very nearly up! A shell exploded only yards away from us, but luckily no one was injured. However, a piece of shrapnel landed in the sand some 6 feet in front of me, and for some unknown reason I formed the opinion that it would make a marvellous souvenir of my excursion to Europe. Having picked it up, however, it turned out to be red hot, so I thought better of it and it remained in France.

Our group were directed up on to the Mole, with the Captain taking the lead, and with myself bringing up the rear, chasing up the stragglers. We had been told to bring any small arms we had back to England with us, and the last two soldiers in the group were a couple of chaps from the Pioneer Corps, somewhat older than I was, and who were struggling along with a Bren Gun. We were, by this time, out on the Mole itself, and it was clear that they were intending to throw it into the sea. I told them that having carried it this far they were "bloody well going to get it home!" (Actually I put it a bit stronger than that!). The two chaps did not respond too kindly to this, so I grabbed the barrel end of the gun to give them a hand and continued down the Mole. After only a few feet I felt the weight of the gun ease, and when I turned around, I found that the two Pioneers had unclipped the other end of the gun and chucked it into the sea! I was livid at this and was now left with a useless Bren gun barrel. Needless to say, and as a result of further quick thinking, this soon joined the other half at the bottom of the harbour!

Our group piled onto a destroyer moored against the Mole, which turned out to be HMS Keith. I was relieved to see that the tide was at just the right height to mean that I could walk directly on to the ship, with no jumping up or climbing down required! However I was not so pleased to see the Keith pulling away as I chased up the two Pioneers! Fortunately the gap between the Mole and the ship was small enough to be jumped and I was on my way back to England!

On board the ship I was ushered into a gunnery control position. A sailor appeared offering me a cup of cocoa and a tin of pink salmon. Well, I could not stand pink salmon, but not having eaten for days the contents of the tin were soon devoured! The next thing I remember was being woken and told that we had arrived back in England!

HMS Keith docked at Dover, and from there I was put on a train, which took me to a Royal Engineers Depot at Yeovil. From here I at last had the opportunity to telephone my parents, and on speaking to my mother I received the good news that my brother Kenneth had made it home a day earlier.

Whilst at Yeovil I saw in the newspaper that HMS Keith had been sunk by German bombers whilst lying off the beaches at Bray Dunes. That was quite a shock.

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