Dunkirk: The Men They Left Behind

by Sean Longden

  Under such pressures to fit back into society, it was little wonder some of the returning prisoners found themselves clashing with the authorities. Around 70 per cent of ex-prisoners reported having problems with the pay owed to them by the army. Some of the protected personnel reported having used the seemingly useless Lagergeld paid to them by the Germans to light cigarettes. They were then upset to discover this money had actually been deducted from their credits upon their return home. These men felt bitter that, having voluntarily stayed behind in France to care for the wounded, they were penalized upon their return to the UK. As one commented: ‘I volunteered to stay behind in France because I felt it was my duty. When I came home I find the War Office quibbling about my pay and trying to pay the lowest possible minimum. This makes a man a little bitter.’8 Another RAMC soldier described the process of attempting to claim the back pay he believed he was owed; it was most easily visualized as: ‘a bundle of split hairs wrapped up in miles and miles of red tape’.9

  For some, the arguments over pay have continued for more than sixty years. For Graham King, the fight for the money he feels he is owed has never finished. Always describing himself as a protected person rather than a POW, King had money deducted from his back pay in lieu of money supposedly paid by the enemy. Yet since he was not receiving these payments he lost out. Furthermore, King felt he had been denied medals. He believed he was entitled to the France and Germany Star for service in north-west Europe between D-Day and VE-Day. He was informed by the Ministry of Defence that he was not entitled to the medal since he had been a POW: ‘I pointed out that as a member of the Medical Services I could not be a prisoner of war under the articles of the Geneva Convention. They rebutted this reply so I said I would like the money refunded that had been deducted from my pay. The reply was that was impossible as I was a protected person!’

  With these arguments continuing for so many years, it was unsurprising that the men left behind in France in 1940 have always felt their plight has been ignored. There was no campaign medal struck for the BEF, meaning those whose war finished in 1940 have no permanent record of their service and suffering, something that has always caused annoyance to so many of the men left behind. As Les Allan has always pointed out, he can spot a 1940 POW by how bereft his chest is of campaign medals. In recent years the National Ex-Prisoner of War Association has struck its own medal for former POWs, depicting the dove of peace against a background of barbed wire. However, many felt it was not their role to be making the medals, as Jim Pearce noted: ‘It would have been nice for the government to do it. Instead we had to pay for the medal – my daughter bought me it for Christmas!’ Similarly, Fred Coster noted: ‘I think the government should have given us a campaign medal, because we fought behind the lines. I was forever using my ability to speak German to demoralize the Germans. I told my guards, “You don’t stand a chance. We’ll wipe you out! We’ll bomb you with a thousand planes.” I made it all up – but in the end it was true! They were so demoralized, I ended up feeling sorry for them.’

  The story of the miracle of Dunkirk has always revolved around the plucky amateur sailors ferrying soldiers from the beaches. It is a mythology that ignores the plight of those whose sacrifices meant the escape could take place. The neglected veterans include those who kept fighting – and dying – for weeks after the beaches of Dunkirk had fallen. The forgotten men of 1940 also include those who chose to remain in France to administer medical care to the wounded – giving up their freedom in the name of duty. The true story of Dunkirk must also include those who never gave up the struggle, who hid in France, endured interrogation by the Gestapo and yet somehow still managed to get home via Spain or North Africa. Moreover, it should never be forgotten that for every seven men who were evacuated via Dunkirk one man was left behind as a prisoner of war. All the physical abuse and mental anguish they suffered in the five years that followed are part of the Dunkirk story.

  Ever since the world’s press first celebrated the miraculous evacuation from the beaches, the story has been a onesided affair. The pain that has been omitted from it has always angered the veterans. When Graham King was contacted by the BBC for a programme about Dunkirk he was appalled that they knew little about the rearguard and were once again focused on what happened on the beaches. The subject of the post-war films about POWs also always raised a laugh with the former prisoners. ‘A load of crap,’ thought Norman Barnett. ‘They just looked too well fed, they needed to get some skinny blokes in there.’

  For Fred Coster the sacrifices of the rearguard need to be more widely known: ‘You’d think they’d mention the rest of us. Dunkirk was a great success, but it wouldn’t have been a success if it wasn’t for the rearguard. Every time the rearguard held up the Germans another thousand men got away. It wasn’t a willing sacrifice but we did our duty.’ As Dick Taylor remembered: ‘They’ve forgotten all about us. There were eight thousand prisoners from my Division. We were still fighting whilst those who get all the credit were getting away. We didn’t get any recognition. The 51st Highland Division gets forgotten. People think everybody got away at Dunkirk.’ Another of the Highlanders, Jim Reed, put it even more bluntly: ‘I still believe Churchill sold us down the river, he said “stay behind to stiffen French resistance”. It was a load of bullshit.’

  One of those left behind in 1940 found his version of events questioned by government officials. Corporal Hosington, who escaped from one of the columns of prisoners marching into Germany, found staff at the Treasury Solicitors Office did not believe his story. They could not accept that the Germans had inflicted so much suffering on their captives. In July 1943 they questioned his account: ‘The only thing I don’t like about it is the length of time you were either without or with a wholly inadequate amount of food. It is difficult to conceive how a column could have remained on the march for six days under these conditions.’10 The corporal could not accept their protestations, writing back to them that: ‘As far as I am concerned it is quite in order and none of the contents are exaggerated.’ He later wrote to reinforce what he had told them: ‘You will find out when our men return from German prison camps that my statement has not been exaggerated. If life itself is at stake men will, and can, carry on even though conditions seem to make it impossible to do so.’11

  With these words Corporal Hosington had unwittingly provided a fitting epitaph to all the men who – whether wounded, a prisoner or an evader – had been left behind in France in June 1940.

  Epilogue

  And so the 40,000 men left behind at Dunkirk came home to a strange, new world – one far removed from that they had left back in 1939. After five years nothing had prepared them for this. They had been on rehabilitation courses, retrained, enjoyed leaves, found employment, re-acquainted themselves with their families, picked up relationships with wives and tried to rekindle affection with girlfriends. But there was always something missing.

  Beneath the smiles of rejoicing for their survival were emotions that would remain hidden for many years. Parents found themselves with sons who had outgrown their childhood bedrooms. Wives hardly knew the men who returned. Girlfriends remembered the youths who had left home five years before, full of enthusiasm, eager for ‘a crack at the Hun’. Instead they got tired, prematurely aged men, often nervous, painfully malnourished and bitter about wasting five years of what should have been the prime of their lives.

  Perhaps we should finish where we started – Dunkirk. Like so many of those men who fought in the BEF, Bill Holmes finally made the return trip to the beaches from which so many of his comrades had escaped and where his own war had come to an abrupt end as a German soldier pointed a machine-gun towards him. Returning to that fateful location, it was difficult for him to suppress the memories of all those years before:

  The first time I went back to Dunkirk, I looked out to sea as a military band was playing ‘Abide with me’; that took some stomaching, I can tell you. Everywhere was peaceful but I looked back to remember what
it had been like in 1940. You think of everybody who’s died. The last time I saw my mates from the village was when they were going to the cinema and I was going to Chichester barracks to start my training. They said ‘Cheerio, Bill’ but only one of them survived the war. The rest were killed. I was lucky to survive and stay healthy. The only thing I have are three or four marks across my back – where the skin grows scaly – I will never lose them. It was when we were made to ‘run the gauntlet’; we all got beaten across the back by the guards with their rifle-butts.

  I’ll never forgive the Germans. I can’t trust them, but I don’t hate them. But when you see things that bad – to see someone shot for no reason – and the guard laughs about it – well, how low can you get? There was a railway near our camp. Twice a day a train would go up to Auschwitz carrying the Jews. You knew they were going to the furnace – it went on day after day, month after month. I don’t think you can forgive people like that.

  When I came back home from Germany, I only weighed nine stone. I got out at the railway station and I was quite frightened. I’d left the lads at Victoria Station and I was suddenly on my own. I’d not been alone for five years. So I was a different character when I came home. I sat in the room and just flung my cigarette butt on the floor. Mum said, ‘What are you doing? You’ll burn the house down!’ Then I realized I had to get rid of my POW behaviour. Words would slip out; POW language wasn’t what you should use in front of your mum!

  It took ages to get over the war. I spent three years on valium. I used to shout and scream out in the night. Even now I sometimes still do it, so my wife clouts me. The effect on the mind of having to kill – you have to do it. It’s not your own choice. If I had a choice I would never have done it. You can only put up with so much. I never spoke about my experiences, I thought people wouldn’t believe me. People would be horrified if they realized what we had to go through. I look back and think ‘Did that really happen?’ So I stayed silent. It wasn’t until I joined the Dunkirk Veterans Association that any of it came out.

  Finally able to meet up with other men who had shared his experiences – men who would understand why he had stayed silent for so many years – Bill Holmes knew he had to return to the town where he had been captured. From the view of the town’s skyline, no longer swirling with flames, to the mournful sounds of the brass band playing ‘Abide with Me’, every moment was drenched in emotion. Yet while he remembered the five years he had lost after he was marched away from the beaches into captivity, a visit to the cemetery helped to put everything into perspective: ‘When I was back in Dunkirk for the sixtieth anniversary, I looked at all the graves of the soldiers who’d died there. A whole generation of men had been wiped out.’ Bill Holmes realized he was one of the lucky ones: he may have been left behind at Dunkirk, but those men had stayed behind for ever.

  Appendix

  Les Allan

  Formerly an apprentice toolmaker, Les Allan returned home to Slough with six months of his apprenticeship remaining. On completing his training, Allan realized he could not continue with the work since the damage sustained to his feet and ankles during the long march out of Poland meant he was unable to stand for long periods. As a result he established his own engineering and engraving firm where he worked until retirement. Initially Allan was reluctant to talk about his wartime experiences and even failed to reveal to his future wife Doris that he had been a prisoner of war. Instead he told her he had spent the war in North Africa. Eventually he began to open up about his experiences, revealing the truth that he had concealed for so long. Finally happy that he had comes to terms with the past, Allan established the National Ex-Prisoner of War Association in the late 1970s. This allows former POWs to come together to discuss their experiences, with Allan and his fellow members continuing to promote a greater understanding and awareness of the sufferings of POWs.

  Gordon Barber

  Gordon ‘Nobby’ Barber (on the right of the left-hand picture above) returned home from the war in such poor health that his mother failed to recognize him when she visited him in hospital. He later discovered that she had spent much of the back pay he had hoped to use to settle down post-war. Barber later went to work as a bus driver on the routes around south-east London. He remains a close friend of Ken Willats whose life he saved during the long march out of Poland in 1945.

  Norman Barnett

  Norman Barnett was one of the first of the POWs to return to the UK, coming home in the first repatriation scheme in late 1943. Although no longer allowed to serve overseas, he remained in the army throughout the war. He returned to live in Croydon where he settled down to marry his pre-war girlfriend and raise a family. He continues to attend reunions of the surviving members of 133 Field Ambulance and still has the collection of photographs he smuggled home from Germany hidden inside his accordion.

  Fred Coster

  Fred Coster returned home to find the East End of London very different to the area he had known when he was growing up. Determined to break free of the poverty of his youth, he returned to the City of London to work as a stockbroker. He later went to work for the Sunday Times newspaper. Following retirement he took up part-time employment as a lunchtime assistant at the school where his daughter is head teacher. He retired from the school in 2007, having enjoyed the opportunity to encourage children to profit from education in the same way that he had.

  Fred Gilbert

  Fred Gilbert was training to be a commercial artist when he was called up in 1939. Following his return home, now minus the fingertip he had lost in a POW camp accident, he completed his training. He then worked as a commercial artist, eventually building up a successful business in the East Midlands. Fred passed away in early 2007.

  Fred Goddard

  Fred Goddard had worked in a number of jobs before the war, including as a shop-boy, a cinema projectionist, a shoe repairer, a stable-yard hand and as an assistant to a surveyor. He joined the army to escape a miserable family life that had blighted his youth. After serving in France in 1940, and successfully escaping to England, he returned to his regiment and saw service in North Africa. In 1941 he was badly wounded in the leg and captured by the Italians. He received minimal treatment for his wounds – an Australian doctor used a penknife heated over a cigarette lighter to remove a bullet from his leg. Eventually Goddard was transferred to a POW camp in Italy from where he was eventually repatriated to England in 1943, since his leg wounds meant he was no longer fit for service. Goddard then faced long battles with the British authorities to receive the correct disablement pension. Post-war he trained as a plumber and set up his own business, which his son still runs as a family firm.

  Bill Holmes

  Bill Holmes returned home from Germany to the same East Sussex village that he had lived in as a child. He also returned to his job on his father’s small farm until, realizing that there were greater opportunities elsewhere, he took up employment raising plants for a local firm. Following the loss of both parents and his brother in the years immediately following the war, he moved into the family cottage. He and his wife remain there to this day.

  David Mowatt

  David Mowatt, born and raised in the Highlands of Scotland, never returned to live in his native land. Uncomfortable in company and finding it difficult to adjust to life after five years of captivity, Mowatt ‘signed on’ as a regular soldier and remained in the army for a number of years. Eventually he found himself in Hertfordshire, working in a camp for officers who were being discharged from the army. There he met a local girl and he settled down, remaining in the area after leaving the army. Despite never returning to live in Scotland, he retains close links with his regiment, the Seaforth Highlanders, returning each year to attend reunions.

  Jim Pearce

  Jim Pearce was among the many POWs who returned home from war only to find it difficult to settle down. It was only after his leave was complete and he returned to army discipline that he began to come to terms with no longer being in captivity
. Pre-war, Pearce had been a porter in a block of flats in London’s Maida Vale, however post-war he moved into the catering industry, eventually working as a catering manager for a large oil company in Essex. His experience during the war years had heightened his faith in God, a faith he still retains.

  Eric Reeves

  Eric Reeves, the pre-war Territorial who never reached the minimum height for an infantryman, returned home to Reigate. In later years he joined the Dunkirk Veterans Association and acted as a ‘company commander’, leading parades during the Association’s annual pilgrimages to the town. He is also the Vice-Chairman of the National Ex-Prisoner of War Association, working closely with Les Allan to promote a greater understanding of life in a POW camp.

  Peter Wagstaff

  Despite his bad experience of war and captivity, Second-Lieutenant Peter Wagstaff returned home from Germany and decided to remain in the army. He took a commission in the Royal Scots Regiment and served throughout the world, seeing action in many regions including Malaya and Korea. He retired with the rank of major and later joked that he and his family had moved from one country to another as the British Empire contracted around them. Ever thankful to have survived the war, and grateful to have been spared the psychological damage that affected so many of his fellow POWs, he continues to enjoy life in a quiet Oxfordshire village.