Saturday 18th. Reached our destination at 0430 but our stay was short lived. At 0630 the main body began what looked to me like a general retreat. I had to stay behind with our officers to destroy two wagons which had been ditched. When we had finished at 0830, rifle and machine gun fire could be heard less than half a mile away. We were moved right back to a place called Houtain and by this time were half way back into France, nor were we to get any peace here. We moved yet another 5 miles back, the Btys [batteries] opened fire and during the night we seemed to be in the middle of a circle of fire. It appears that the order to advance should have been cancelled as by the time we moved the German motorised columns had already penetrated beyond the given point…
Anyway by this time the whole British Army was on the retreat. It was simply a case of get back as fast as was possible. We travelled back to Tournai. All available transport was used to pick up the infantry. Half the blokes got separated from their units and fought the rest of the time with others. It seemed a ghastly tangle. Well the orders were to hold the canal round Tournai at all cost. We heard the news on the wireless that the battle round Sedan wasn’t going too well. Despite this and the retreat from Belgium, we didn’t have any pessimistic feelings…
On Wednesday night we were ordered to move back. Now understand this – at no point had the Germans crossed the canal but the situation elsewhere compelled us to withdraw unless we wanted to be trapped… On Monday 27th refreshed by the last 2 days we moved back to slightly west of Ypres. By this time we knew we were trapped in the north of France and Belgium. Fighting seemed to be all around us and was bitter. Artillery fire turned the sky red at night while bombing & shell fire blackened the countryside by day. Even so the worst blow was yet to fall. Early on Tuesday 28th we heard of the capitulation of Leopold.* I admit at this time none of we common soldiers appreciated the dangers. Those in command did and we set about destroying all extra kit, wireless sets, exchanges, telephones and every other bit of equipment. I should think we burnt £5,000 worth of technical stores that afternoon… Well we began to move back to the coast late at night. The journey took all night and was a nightmare. Villages and towns were bombed and machine gunned as we passed through. The roads were jammed with vehicles. Well to cut a long story short we got to within 12 miles of the coast about 0430 Wednesday 29th. I immediately fell asleep over the wheel. At midday we had orders to destroy our wagons as best we could. We daren’t fire them for fear of attracting enemy bombers which were like hornets in the sky. At 1300 hours we began our march and reached Lapanne just inside Belgium, a few miles north of Dunkirk, at 1800 hours. I was absolutely dead beat. Imagine carrying about 56lbs of potatoes on your back for 5 hours and you can guess how I felt.
Well we slept that night on the beach and with luck still with us, the morning of Thursday 30th was very cloudy. I eventually got into a boat, soaked from head to foot, at 1100hrs and was rowed out to a drifter, which left the place soon after. By this time the Germans were shelling the beach and the boats as they left. Apparently half an hour after we had left, German places machine gunned that very beach and killed and wounded 700 men. In addition they bombed and sunk a destroyer a little lower down. Well we got to England (Dover) at 2030hrs, wet and in a sorry state. A cup of tea tasted like champagne, while the railway carriage was like a feather bed…
Well I’ve tried not to let what I’ve learnt since getting back have anything to do with my tale… I will say this much, that Dame fortune followed our section. We brought every man back and only one, who lost a finger, needed medical attention. As a contrast one other section in our div signals brought 4 back out of 32…
In conclusion I’m not one of those who is eager to get back, I never want to go through another 16 days like those. I think the army is a shower of ——, badly organised and generally wants a thorough clean out. If this war goes on much longer I know I shall turn socialist and a most progressive conservative which is the same thing.
Cheers for now & all the best,
Lionel
I suppose the news of the last few days shook you a bit. It did me. Perhaps we finally realise what the German Army etc is like. Thank God we’ve got a navy and pray that the French fleet stays on our side.
Harry Calvert served in No. 149 Field Ambulance, Royal Army Medical Corps (RAMC). In June 1940 he too described the danger from German bombing as the troops desperately awaited evacuation from the beaches at Dunkirk.
RAMC
Beaminster
Dorset
28.6.40
Dear P. and A.,
Many thanks for your letter which arrived this morning. You will be relieved to hear that we got through all right except for a few minor wounds. I am glad to say I am OK now.
Eddie Ritchie and young Teddy Crooks are here – the unit was very lucky at times over there and we just managed to scrape through by the skin of our teeth.
I’ve had a few of the boys killed and also a few are missing. We went through quite a lot of action in Belgium and Northern France in quite a short while and this is not an idle boast – but the British soldiers beat the Jerries every time and must have killed a half million of them on Vimy Ridge and took about two thousand prisoners.
But the French let us down badly by letting him break through and then the Belgians packed in and there we were, hemmed in on three sides with Dunkirk the only way out, so that is where we made for and was it hot I’ll say, he seemed to fill the sky with his bombers and they just played merry hell on the beach.
Well, that is where Eddie and I lost young Teddy – you see somehow or other the three of us were lost from the unit the day before by our lorry breaking down and when we got it away again the rest of the unit were miles away. So we made our own way to Dunkirk. Well we are about two miles away from there when all the excitement started – one of the Jerry bombers came flying very low along the road and he dropped a pill just about 6 feet in front of us. It just lifted that wagon as if it was a balloon and we thought our end had come and young Teddy got a nasty knock on the arm so he fell.
We managed somehow to get him off the wagon and dived into a ditch and lay there till the planes cleared off – most uncomfortable I can assure you with the machine gun bullets splattering on the road.
But never mind, we managed to fix young Teddy’s arm and we made our way to the beach. It was like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. The beach was like Blackpool on a Bank Holiday – it was black with soldiers. Well, we made our way to the port and got young Teddy seen to – and Eddie and I were detailed to carry the wounded on the boats.
We saw young Teddy aboard one ship – it left the port and it wouldn’t be a mile out when the bombs started to drop again. That ship was hit 5 times and I said good-bye to Teddy to myself because I thought there would have been an awful lot killed on board her – but young Teddy will tell you all about that himself when he writes. That was about the longest day I’ve ever spent in the army – we thought that night would never come. Our shoulders were aching with the wounded and about 12.30pm the officers decided to evacuate the Aid Post as there were some fresher men come to relieve us.
Well, we worked like devils in the few hours of darkness that we had but not enough time for at 4.30 just as we were making for the boats over came the Jerries to start it all over again.
I don’t think I’ve ever said my prayers as many times in one day as I did then but the Jerries got more than they bargained for this time when a dozen Spitfires came out of the blue and did they make short work of them Germans and did the lads give them a cheer – it’s a wonder you didn’t hear it over on this side.
Well, it was all over in about half and hour and Eddie and I managed to get on board a destroyer and it wasn’t long before we were making for England. Except for a few shells from the shore and two more Jerry planes it was like a pleasure cruise – thanks to the Navy – they were great – they treated us like lords coming over.
But we were pleased to see those White C
liffs – well, I ask you, were we pleased?…
Throughout the Dunkirk evacuation the RAF had only played a limited role due to the limitations of the range of the aircraft at their disposal as well as the urgent need to protect the home front. Nevertheless, their contribution played a large part in the success of the operation, their valour being officially recognised by Churchill in a speech. In total the RAF lost over 100 aircraft during the evacuation. But throughout the months of July and August the RAF would be at the very forefront of the defence of the British Isles.
Many soldiers, sailors and airmen were confronted with their own mortality on an almost daily basis. Some chose to compose a final letter home to be delivered to their loved ones if they were killed in action. Pilot Officer Michael A. Scott wrote the following to his parents in August 1940.
Torquay
21/8/40
Dear Daddy,
As this letter will only be read after my death, it may seem a somewhat macabre document, but I do not want you to look on it in that way. I have always had a feeling that our stay on earth, that thing we call ‘Life’, is but a transitory stage in our development and that the dreaded monosyllable ‘Death’ ought not to indicate anything to be feared. I have had my fling and must now pass on to the next stage, the consummation of all earthly experience. So don’t worry about me; I shall be all right.
I would like to pay tribute to the courage which you and mother have shown, and will continue to show in these tragic times. It is easy to meet an enemy face to face, and to laugh him to scorn, but the unseen enemies Hardship, Anxiety and Despair are very different problems. You have held the family together as few could have done, and I take off my hat to you.
Now for a bit about myself. You know how I hated the idea of War, and that hate will remain with me for ever. What has kept me going is the spiritual force to be derived from Music, its reflection of my own feelings, and the power it has to uplift the soul above earthly things. Mark has the same experiences as I have in this though his medium of encouragement is Poetry. Now I am off to the source of Music, and can fulfil the vague longings of my soul in becoming part of the fountain whence all good comes. I have no belief in a personal God, but I do believe most strongly in a spiritual force which has the source of our being, and which will be our ultimate goal. If there is anything worth fighting for, it is the right to follow our own paths to this goal and to prevent our children from having their souls sterilised by Nazi doctrines. The most horrible aspect of Nazism is its system of education, of driving instead of leading out, and of putting State above all things spiritual. And so I have been fighting.
All I can do now is to voice my faith that this war will end in Victory, and that you will have many years before you in which to resume normal civil life. Good luck to you!
Mick
Scott survived his initial training and deployment in 1940 and so the letter was never delivered. In 1941 he chose to draft a new version.
Royal Air Force Station
Bildeston 261. Suffolk
7/5/41
Dear Mother and Daddy,
You now know that you will not be seeing me any more, and perhaps the knowledge is better than the months of uncertainty which you have been through. There are one or two things which I should like you to know, and which I have been too shy to let you know in person.
Firstly let me say how splendid you both have been during this terrible war. Neither of you have shown how hard things must have been, and when peace comes this will serve to knit the family together as it should always have been knit. As a family we are terribly afraid of showing our feelings, but war has uncovered unsuspected layers of affection beneath the crust of gentlemanly reserve. Secondly I would like to thank you both for what you have done for me personally. Nothing has been too much trouble, and I have appreciated this to the full, even if I have been unable to show my appreciation.
Finally as a word of comfort. You both know how I have hated war, and dreaded the thought of it all my life. It has, however, done this for me. It has shown me the realms where man is free from earthly restrictions and conventions; where he can be himself playing hide and seek with the clouds, or watching a strangely silent world beneath, rolling quietly on, touched only by vague unsubstantial shadows moving placidly but unrelenting across its surface. So please don’t pity me for the price I have had to pay for this experience. This price is incalculable, but it may just as well be incalculably small as incalculably large, so why worry?
There is only one thing to add. Good luck to you all!
Mick
Tragically this letter was delivered following Michael Scott’s death on 24 May 1941 while serving with No. 110 Squadron, Bomber Command. He was one of seven children, four sisters and three brothers. His brother Mark, who is mentioned in the earlier letter, was also killed during the war when he was lost at sea in 1942.
With the success of the German Blitzkrieg and the occupation of much of mainland Europe by 1941 the Phoney War seemed a distant memory. Although the Battle of Britain had thwarted any tentative German plans for an invasion of the British Isles there had been few other successful Allied actions and with the continuous bombing of the Blitz the war was fought as much on the home front as it was on the front lines. Many British soldiers were desperate to do their part to help to turn the tide and Ernie Probst of the Royal Artillery was no exception.
My own sweet Winifred,
Sunday afternoon and I am writing this in the sitting room down-stairs listening to Leslie Sarony on the radio.
These last two days have been horrible, raining all the time. It has made everything very miserable but I guess it is nowhere near so miserable as it must be in London.
I heard that the last few days have seen the Jerry over London very early and I have been rather worried about you not being home before they started. I pray every night that you may be kept safe and unharmed because I cannot bear to think of you hurt.
Things seem to be stirring up in this war business and the sooner we can have a good crack at Hitler the better I shall be pleased, so that we can be over with it all as soon as possible.
Sometimes I think that all this war makes life only the more worth living. The future holds forth such hopes of peace and security that it almost becomes an honour to have participated in the great struggle. I hope I live to see the end of it all and I’m not being miserable in bringing that into it.
I get impatient waiting for the time we can set up house together again and the very prospect of it almost justifies the war.
Well, I’ve been philosophising long enough… I love you, so looksee after yourself.
Yours forever & ever & ever,
Ernie
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Probst’s wishes were only partially fulfilled. He continued to serve with the Royal Artillery and rose to the rank of captain until the landings at Salerno in 1943 as the Allies launched their first amphibious assault on mainland Europe. The operation was a success but tragically Ernie Probst was killed and he did not live to see its successful outcome.
A key defensive position within the Mediterranean prior to the invasion of Italy was the island of Malta. With Axis and Allied armies battling for control of North Africa, British control of the island ensured that Axis supplies from Europe to North Africa could be attacked en route. The German High Command was quick to realise Malta’s strategic significance and from 1940 until 1942 the island came under sustained aerial attack. Flying Officer Geoff Stillingfleet was a British pilot based on the island as part of the defence contingent. In a detailed letter home to his parents written over a two-day period he described the virtually daily attacks to which the small island was subjected.
26/6/41
148 Squadron
RAF, H.Q., M.E
Dear Mum and Dad,
In addition to the numerous letters, cards and airgraphs I write, I usually send you a long letter once a fortnight. They, unfortunately, will take considerably longe
r to reach their destination, but nevertheless, I know, be very welcome.
I am going to start this letter with a few words about Malta. It is no secret that Malta has been very heavily bombed and it is about this that I am going to talk. I am told that the tiny island of Malta has received more air-raids than any other place in the war, this I can quite believe, indeed, we had an average of four a day. Before leaving England, my attitude, as you know, was one of reckless contempt towards all air-raids. However, after a few days in Malta contempt changed to respect. After six weeks there I have been an exceptionally fast runner, indeed I believe I could have rivalled even the Italians. I was capable of descending the air-raid shelters with an amazing speed and agility if not exactly with dignity (that came later with practice).
Jerry had a very unpleasant habit of, without warning, sending over sixty or seventy ‘Stuka’ dive-bombers, complete with a very large and very necessary fighter escort. Those fearful aircraft would then proceed to hurl their screaming missiles earthwards, causing considerable smoke, noise and dust, the former chiefly coming from the remains of burning German dive bombers. These attacks were annoying. Firstly, they scared us badly, exceedingly badly I might add; secondly they were always followed by a particularly long ‘alert’ caused by Jerry seaplanes searching for survivors round the coast of Malta, and finally bomb craters on the aerodrome had to be filled in and shrapnel removed from the runways.
My first experience of dive bombing was a very unpleasant one. I was caught in the open, the only available ‘funk hole’ being a sand-bagged machine gun post. Out of the sun there came formation after formation of bombers. I saw the first one enter its dive, saw its air brakes come on, and then saw the bombs leave the aircraft. I didn’t wait for more, but ran. It is impossible to describe the next twenty minutes adequately. The sky above us was filled with white puffs of hundreds of exploding shells. Nothing you thought could fly through it, but down they came one after the other, unloading the deadly bombs. Many came down but never pulled out, hitting the deck with a load crash (one narrowly missed us), another I saw exploded in mid-air showering wreckage and flak over a large area. Would they never stop, everywhere there was flying and falling shrapnel, whizzing stones and the whirr of machine gun bullets, and above all this whistling, screaming, shrieking above all noise of our gunfire the never-ending, ear-splitting explosion of heavy bombs. Suddenly the gun-fire eased off, no longer could we hear the screech of diving aircraft or the higher pitched scream of falling bombs, the last aircraft had dropped its load and to our amazement we were still in one piece. In our proximity the only casualty was a gunner with a shrapnel wound in the shoulder. German losses we learnt later were twenty-three aircraft.
Letters from the Front: From the First World War to the Present Day Page 12