大象传媒

My great-grandfather, Edward Insley, the son of an agricultural worker, was born a few miles away in North Warwickshire in 1834 and went to the USA before he was 20 years old. He became a partner in a timber business during the early years when the railways were expanding and when railway sleepers were in great demand 鈥� where he 鈥渕ade a fortune鈥�. After having returned to visit his family in Warwickshire a few years later, he returned to the USA to find that his partner had gambled and had lost everything 鈥� all of their money and their timber business! Edward decided to return to England for good, but in 1860 he decided to try again by moving to St Malo in Brittany, where he established a business to export hens eggs and, later, other farm produce to England. That business thrived and three generations later I was born there, in St Malo, in 1928.

My sisters and I came over to school in Shropshire and we were safely there in Oswestry in September 1939 during the early months of the war. In early June 1940 my parents and grandparents, who were all still living in St Malo, were given warning by a friend at 5am one morning, that the advancing German forces would probably arrive in two or three hours time. Fortunately, as a result of my father鈥檚 business connections with the Port Authority, he was able to arrange that both my parents and my grandparents would escape, two hours later, on what was the last ship to leave St Malo for England. Their luggage 鈥渁llowance鈥� was only one suitcase each 鈥� and as a result they 鈥渓ost鈥� everything 鈥� homes, business and all of their savings.

After D-Day on 6th June, my birthday, I was very keen to return home to St Malo with my parents as soon as that was possible. The Allied Forces liberated St Malo in August 1944, but we had to wait until the summer of 1946 before we were able to return home for a visit.

When planning our visit we knew that there would be no question of our being able to hire a car so we took our bicycles. One day my father and I decided to cycle to Cancale, 10 miles along the coast from St Malo and renowned, pre-war, for its oysters 鈥� which perhaps, some visitors may know. As we were cycling along a small country road we saw a woman in the roadside field who was wearing a simple harness and was pulling a small single-furrow plough, which was being pushed by her husband. My father and I stopped to look at the couple in astonishment, and we then heard a shout from the man who called out 鈥淢onsieur Insley鈥�, before he then came running to speak to us.

The man had looked up when he heard English voices and, as he was soon telling my father, he recognised him, as he had often sold his potatoes before the war to our family export business in St Malo. The farmer then explained that towards the end of the war, the German soldiers had taken all of the fit horses and that any old horses, which were unable to carry out farm work, were killed to be eaten as horse meat. As the field had to be ploughed the farmer explained that he and his wife had no alternative but to plough the field themselves.

Before the war my grandparents had lived in a large family house from which there were lovely views over the surrounding countryside and as far as the old city of St Malo. We knew from the letters which had been received during 1945, with the help of the Red Cross, that this house, 鈥楥hateau de la Riviere鈥�, had been demolished by the German forces at the time when the German officer in command of the German troops in St Malo had announced to the community 鈥� as the American forces were advancing through Brittany towards Brest 鈥� that he intended to 鈥渢urn St Malo into another Stalingrad鈥�.

This German officer had also decided that as my grandparent鈥檚 house occupied a high vantage point, which might, in due course, be of help to the advancing American forces, the house should be demolished. He gave instructions for the house to be shelled and when my parents and I returned there two years later we found a small piece of walling and a pile of rubble, which was all that remained of my grandparent鈥檚 home. Nevertheless, we always felt much gratitude that an old friend of my mother鈥檚 had been able to waken my parents at 5 o鈥檆lock that morning in June 1940 and to warn them of the advancing German military forces.

[Mr V Insley sent me this story to add to the website after he saw an article about the People's War Project in 'West Midlands Ancestor' magazine.]

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