By mid-March most of the territory west of the Rhine had been cleared, with the German Army suffering 60,000 casualties and 300,000 taken prisoner. On 11 April the American Ninth Army reached the River Elbe at Magdeburg, only 80 miles from Berlin, and joined up with the Red Army. Two weeks later the Russians completed the encirclement of the German capital.
Adolf Hitler committed suicide in his bunker in the Reichschancellery on 30 April 1945, two days after the Italian dictator Benito Mussolini had been shot by partisans in northern Italy. Berlin surrendered on 2 May, and on the 7th, at Eisenhower’s headquarters at Rheims, General Alfred Jodl and Admiral Hans-Georg von Friedeburg signed the document of total unconditional surrender on behalf of Germany, before representatives of the United States, Great Britain, France and Russia. The next day – 8 May – was declared Victory in Europe Day (VE Day).
In the Far East, since their startling victories of late 1941 and early 1942, Japan had become bogged down. It had been fought to a standstill by General Sir William Slim’s Fourteenth Army in Burma, by General Douglas MacArthur in the Philippines and Admiral Paul Nimitz in the Pacific. There were a number of notable Allied victories, including the battles of Midway, Monywa and Iwo Jima and the fall of Mandalay, Kyushu and Okinawa. But they were all at a cost and despite these successes it was estimated by the US chiefs of staff that the invasion of mainland Japan might cost the lives of up to a quarter of a million Allied servicemen. The fanatical, often suicidal, resistance that the Japanese had offered during the island hopping campaign – and as kamikaze pilots against American ships – has convinced scholars and historians that this prediction was probably not exaggerated when extrapolated onto the Japanese home islands.
To some degree then, it was fortunate that by early August 1945 scientific developments were had been and what had been codenamed the ‘Tube Alloys’ and ‘Manhattan’ projects brought forth two different bombs, both of which were capable of using nuclear fission to create explosions of hitherto unimaginable force, and hopefully bring about peace. One was dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima on 6 August, killing around 140,000 people. Japan refused to admit defeat, so a second bomb was dropped on Nagasaki three days later, killing a further 73,884 people. Japan finally surrendered on 14 August 1945, bringing to an end a conflict that in total, over six years, is estimated to have cost the lives of over fifty million people.
With the outbreak of the Second World War the professional element of the British Army, including reservists, was once again posted to France. However, following the swift fall of Poland a period of calm descended. Ernest Probst, serving with the Royal Artillery, was able to write several letters to his wife back home in England during this quiet period as he adjusted to life in the military and active service.
Somewhere in France
November 13th, Monday
My dearest Winifred,
I received a letter from you yesterday posted on the 8th so you see I am getting your post quicker than you are getting mine. That, of course, is unavoidable as the officers censor our letters in their spare time – when they get any.
Rumours about leave abound and I do not trouble to believe them. I shall expect to get leave when I open the front door with my latch-key and not before. None the less for that I’m hoping hard and trusting in Cyril’s lucky star because I’ve decided I was not fortunate enough to have been from under so continually a beneficent orb.
Don’t tell me you are lonely, darling, or I’ll probably desert. I certainly cannot get used to being without you and still expect to wake up and find myself working at [P…]. Even that would be heaven or at least a taste thereof.
It is very interesting to note that since I joined up migraines have been conspicuously absent. It’s the open air. Do you fancy the open road and a caravan? Shall we become tramps when I return? Failing that an open air job… I fancy you will have to resign yourself to that because apparently the open air is the cure for it – and having written that I shall probably be attacked tomorrow…
That firing camp I mentioned has been cancelled for some reason unknown to me so digging is once more in full swing. I today am not digging as I have a battery duty but I shall be out again tomorrow. I have just written to mother and told her I am beginning to enjoy it in suitable weather. It’s certainly bringing my muscles up…
We went to the pictures last Friday, I saw Merrily we Live. What a riot, I nearly fell of my bench laughing and it is by far the best film I’ve seen for many months. It is a peculiar thing, though, whilst on the subject of humour, that we are finding that we laugh much more readily these days at things that normally we would consider merely amusing. Maybe our sense of appreciation is becoming less critical…
Do you know that a French private receives but ½f pour jour? Ain’t that bloody awful. We must appear like millionaires to them, although I am personally broke…
Well my dearest, there is no more for now. Hurry up peace! And don’t you, wife, forget you owe me a photograph of yourself.
With all the love in the world,
Forever yours,
Ernie
The lull in the war continued throughout the winter of 1939–40 and Probst was indeed able to enjoy some leave with his wife in mid February before re-joining his unit.
20 February 1940
My darling Winifred,
I don’t know quite what to say but I must leave you a little note.
We have had a wonderful reunion but like all things it has had its ending.
Remember, darling, how much I love you in my perhaps rather undemonstrative way.
I’ll soon be home again so don’t cry about me.
I shall think of you reading this at about 7 tonight (if I have not been already attacked by sea-sickness!).
Darling, I love you,
Ernie
xxxxxxxxxx
Unbeknownst to Ernie Probst he would be making the short journey back across the Channel sooner than he would have expected. In May 1940 Hitler unleashed his Blitzkrieg on the West. Storming through Belgium and the Netherlands in short order, the British Army and their French allies were pushed back to the sea to make a final stand at a small fishing port, Dunkirk. At first it seemed unlikely that the British Army could be saved in the face of the German juggernaut. But then something miraculous occurred and from the ports and estuaries of southern England a flotilla of Royal Navy ships and civilian crafts gathered. Brilliantly coordinated by the Royal Navy, with the aerial support of the RAF, nearly 340,000 Allied servicemen were rescued from the beaches of Dunkirk. Lance Sergeant Ernie Probst was amongst those who survived the crossing despite the best efforts of the Luftwaffe.
4 June 1940
My most darling Winifred,
It doesn’t seem as though I shall get leave as quickly as I, at first, thought.
Apparently we stay here until our divisional reforming area is decided upon after which we are transferred there to refit and then it is not until we have refitted that we can hope for leave.
Anyway, darling, I am in England and absolutely safe in mind and limb with every prospect of seeing you within a fortnight.
This is a delightful place, which would be appreciated more under different circumstances. We are all getting very tired of doing nothing as we are confined to camp owing to the possibility of transfer orders arriving at any moment.
There are thirty 92nd men here including Howard Walls. I am afraid that we left Cyril somewhere in Belgium, during a retirement and I really don’t know where he is. I can only hope he is safe with some other unit.
John did not return to the unit from leave as by the time his leave was up we were moving about all over the place and so I don’t know what has happened to him either.
I am very glad that Howard is here with me as we are now pretty nearly inseparable.
We had a very narrow squeak at Dunkirk as just as we reached the boats moored to the ¼ mile long jetty five German bombers came over. Howard and I jumped on board and crosse
d to the outside boat of three which were moored together. The Germans dropped some bombs but we were not hit and our boat, a torpedo boat, left first and dashed hell for leather across the channel.
Howard and I solemnly shook hands when England hove in sight.
Well, sweet, looksee after yourself, more news when I see you and may it be soon.
All my love,
Yours everlasting,
Ernie
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Drop a line to M & Dad saying I’m safe. E
Some soldiers were not as fortunate as Ernie Probst and the evacuation was fraught with danger. A French liaison officer, Lieutenant Le Maitre, serving alongside 3 Corps of the Royal Signals, vividly described his experiences in a letter to his fellow officer J.W. Thraves, an extract of which is below. Thraves himself was on the beach at the time and witnessed the burning of the boat as well as the death of many fellow Royal Signallers.
On Wednesday, May 29th (1940), after escaping heavy bombing in the harbour and along the pier of Dunkerque, I sailed aboard the Crested Eagle at about 5.30pm with my liaison agent, Bassett. Two miles beyond the pier our boat was attacked by German diving bombers who dropped some big incendiary bombs. I was then standing in the inside deck on the left of the staircase; a bomb fell on the right of the staircase and I fainted for a few minutes. When I recovered myself I expected the sinking of the boat and I saw that my hands and my face were terribly burned by the fire of the bomb. All around, some wounded soldiers were shouting and roaring: I saw a small window through which I dropped myself head first and I fell on a small outside deck two yards below; there I recovered better with fresh air and was happy to find again Bassett, who was suffering from the shock but was uninjured.
In the meantime the steamer was set on fire and was beached at about 700 yards off the sand, towards which it was possible to swim quickly, but we were afraid to be made prisoners the next morning. So we decided to reach farther a British destroyer. Bassett took off my field-boots and we jumped into the sea. I saw then that it would be impossible to swim quickly enough with my uniform breeches; unhappily my hands were so badly burned that the skin was going off with the nails, like gloves… Nevertheless, I succeeded to undo all the breeches buttons, including the leg buttons, and keeping only my short pants. I swam half-an-hour before being picked up near the destroyer. Then I fainted again and when I recovered I was in a small room inside the destroyer, rolled up in a blanket: a sailor was putting some oil and bandages on my hands.
The next morning we reached Great Britain and I was carried to a First Casualty Station and afterwards to hospital. There the surgeons anaesthetised me to clean my hands and my face, and sprayed tannic acid on my hands. After further sprayings of this product my hands were covered with a kind of brown artificial skin. The flesh ought to grow again inside that sort of glove. My looking was horrible, face and ears were black and full of crusts, with enormous nose and dried lips.
The grand devotion of doctors and nurses saved my life. On June 7th sudden haemorrhages of both hands: I am getting weaker every day. Nightmares, even by day. On June 12th a Catholic priest is called to give me the last sacraments. I offer up my life for my dear France, but it is very sad to think that I shall never more see my poor wife, my boy and all the dear ones who are far from me. On June 13th my right arm is swelling, getting blur and very painful; the next morning, the surgeon opens it and an enormous quantity of pus goes off during several days. I am saved and from now I shall slowly recover.
From about June 20th I was given hand-baths; the artificial skin started to come off by pieces, uncovering a new skin on the palm and some flesh on the back of my hands; in the meantime, I was given medicines to cure my face. My ears were very painful and prevented me to sleep on the side. I was six weeks without leaving my bed, both hands confined in bandages, fed by the nurses as a baby. The back of the hands is the part needing the longest time to be healed because there the skin must be extensible and the sores of my right hand are only healed now, 29th August, three months after I have been wounded…
Another soldier to experience the desperate retreat to the sea was Major Peter Hill, a fellow reservist, who was called up to serve with the Royal Artillery Ordnance Corps. His letter, despite its cheerful optimism and faith in the British fighting spirit, certainly sheds some light on the perilous days of May 1940 when soldier and civilian alike was seemingly at the mercy of the Luftwaffe.
Major P.R. Hill
‘F’ Corps Section
2nd Ond. Fld. Park
B.E.F.
25 May 1940
My Darling Wife,
When this letter will reach you if at all I don’t know but like good British troops we always hope for the best.
The last few days Betty have not been pleasant and my dear it is no use my pretending otherwise. This continued fine weather favours the blasted German air force whilst ours is attacking his lines of communication or sitting at home kept there by windy politicians. Tell John Sully we want fighters and yet more fighters. If they appear the Germans simply can’t stand up to them. I saw two yesterday go into about six bombers bringing them down like chaff. But our pilots can’t fly 24hrs of the day. Try to impress on your friends the words of the King that we are fighting for our very existence in the world at all and that our downfall, if such a thing could be thought of, would be final and everlasting.
Every conceivable form of foulness is used by the Germans. The farmer on whose farm I am now has a son who was taken prisoner by Germans in Dutch uniforms. If any of our conscientious objectors don’t like to fight the German people but only the Nazis let them do the sort of job we had to do yesterday when the few men I have who know anything about first-aid and I had to attend to dying and injured refugees after they had been bombed. My first dead was a child of five and her grandfather. I don’t want to try and be horrific Betty and soldiers expect terrible things in war but when we see the pitiful plight of innocent people we have only one idea – carry the same total warfare into Germany and smash them in pieces for ever. The spirit of the soldiers I came across will blow things to pieces if ever a Gast tries to restore Germany as a power.
I have slept in my clothes for several days now and was up at 4am – this mainly to find a new place and hope I have chosen a nice quiet farm… The other day an officer of ours arrived with a truck full of provisions of wines and spirits. Then I picnicked in an orchard the other day on bully beef, tinned potatoes & champagne…
The weather continues to be perfect and I long for some of those gloriously happy days we have had quite alone and look forward to raising a family with you in a better world God willing. I feel sure you will take the necessary steps in this direction, it would be very encouraging if you did. If you have time dearest look around for the ideal little house you would like after the war in Barnstead, Chipstead, Epsom Downs districts, nicely in the country don’t you think. Of course it is also very nice up the river in some places. It would be better than a flat and a cottage, but what do you think?
This afternoon I think the weather is going to break. It is like thunder and will keep les avions away…
Well my darling I often look at your photo and gain courage from you. I must say that in these days a firm belief in the Christian faith goes a long way also.
Goodbye for the present dear, don’t worry, we always get away with it.
As ever
Your loving husband,
Peter
P.S. The BEF was never more alive & kicking than now.
Lionel Baylis kept a diary throughout the retreat to Dunkirk and referred to this when he wrote to his brother to tell him about the tumultuous weeks that had preceded the evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force. Baylis was at this stage serving as a signalman in the 48th Divisional Signals.
No 2528408 Signm Baylis L.G.
‘F’ Section, No 2 Company
48th Divisional Signals
Hampton Park Buckwater
Hereford<
br />
Tuesday 25th June ’40.
Dear Cliff and May,
Well this letter has been a long time coming, but still, better late than never. I hope you’re both going on alright, and not being as pessimistic as the majority. I hear you had an air-raid last night. Did you hear any eggs come down or did you sleep it through? I don’t think an air-raid would fetch me out of bed unless things got extremely warm.
I don’t know whether you are still sufficiently interested to hear an account of my travels. If you’re not, swear for five minutes for me, for wasting time and paper. I will try to make it as interesting as possible and promise not to exaggerate in any way. Some of the things you will already know, but I’ve got to mention them to keep things clear…
Tuesday 10th [May 1940]. 0400hrs we were wakened by all the air-raid alarms in the district going. A.A. fire was continuous and planes droned continuously overhead. Needless to say we all tumbled out of bed and stood watching our first air-raid in pyjamas and shirt as the case may be. We didn’t see any planes brought down, but several made off with smoke pouring out of them. Well we knew or guessed something was up and at seven we heard on the news that Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg had been invaded. Bang went my leave and we prepared for an immediate move…
Thursday 16th. Ordered to move at 0330, but was cancelled. 0730 subjected to our first dive-bombing attack by German fighters. Very few casualties in our regiment though an infantry battalion marching past suffered badly. 0830 moved to our position 2 miles south of Waterloo. 48th Div supposed to act as reserve for 1st and 2nd Div, the three comprising 1st Army Corps. It didn’t turn out this way ‘but the idea was good’. Throughout the day German planes went over in groups of 50. No British planes seen and A.A. fire not too hot. Our positions were bombed again with very few casualties. Late tonight our first ‘Tactical Withdrawal’ was made…
Friday 17th. Battalion in action all day. Bombing attacks continuous. From bits of information passing over wires etc, we were beginning to appreciate that things weren’t as easy as we had thought they would be…
Letters from the Front: From the First World War to the Present Day Page 11