Dunkirk: The Men They Left Behind (20 page)

With ammunition running low, the situation began to get increasingly desperate. Major-General Fortune wanted the infantry to attack at dawn, to push the enemy back far enough so that the harbour area could be held for one more day to allow for another attempted evacuation. Yet there was precious little they could do. As Major-General Fortune was requesting the navy to use their guns to suppress the enemy, many of the division’s gunners were destroying their weapons so they couldn’t fall into enemy hands. As Gordon Barber made his way into St Valery from his gun positions he couldn’t help but be astounded by the wreckage that seemed to surround him, either dumped in roadside ditches or smouldering on the verges:It was the biggest cock up I’ve seen in my life. Blokes were getting killed everywhere. They wanted volunteers to go into town to find small arms, so we went. The idea was, we were going to fight our way to the beaches. The outskirts of the town were a mess. We found these four French officers in their car, like they were asleep. But they were stone dead! They had all their medals on. All I remember was going into a broken shop and finding this big box of stockings. I thought ‘When I get home with these I’ll be rich!’ Then I found a bag full of fruitcake and tins of Ovaltine. So I kept them as well.

There was little chance of the division making good its escape. The town, with parts of it flattened and in flames, seemed deserted. There were no boats in the harbour and few civilians in the streets. Instead there was just the detritus of war – corpses, wrecked vehicles, scattered boxes of food and ammunition and, above all else, the lost and bewildered soldiers of all nations. Middlesex Regiment machine-gunner Jim Pearce was surprised to find himself approaching the front lines only to see Frenchmen going in the opposite direction loaded down with tins of British rations. The situation was not helped by the knowledge that their own stores of food and cigarettes were being blown up to prevent their capture by the enemy. Given the circumstances, no one could blame the Frenchmen for taking the food. Such was the chaos that food had to be found wherever it was available. There was no time for scruples. Gordon Barber returned to his gun position, still clutching the stockings, fruitcake and Ovaltine he had ‘acquired’ in the town.

Upon arrival, Barber handed over the weapons he had found, just one box of hand grenades. His officer, Captain Wright, then asked him to try to pick up any information from the wireless set, and that was when Barber, working his way through the dials, heard the self-congratulatory BBC announcement of the successful evacuation of Dunkirk.

It was clear to both Barber and Captain Wright that their war was coming to an end. A gun battery without shells, small arms or ammunition could not fight on. Not only that, but the single box of grenades Barber had found were useless. As an infantry sergeant told him: ‘It would have been a good idea to bring the detonators.’ Barber’s admitted ignorance was a reflection of how poorly prepared the army was: ‘That was another balls up! I wasn’t to know. I’d never used a bleedin’ hand grenade in my life.’

In the circumstances there was but one choice, as the captain soon explained: ‘I can’t give you any more information. We are now going to be taken prisoner of war. You can do as you like.’ This was all the information he needed. It was ‘every man for himself’. Not wanting to be taken prisoner, Barber and his mate Paddy mounted a motorcycle: ‘It was all “pie in the sky”. We hadn’t got a clue where we were or where the Germans were or where we were going to go. It was all a big mess. We were all young kids – eighteen or nineteen. We didn’t know what we were doing.’ Despite their ignorance, they made the conscious decision to escape and roared off into the unknown.

The situation was the same all around the town. Eventually the gunners of the 101st Anti-Aircraft Regiment also realized their guns could defend St Valery no longer. Their orders were to keep firing until they had just two shells remaining. These two were then fired together, the detonation of the second shell destroying the gun. Unfortunately, one of the sergeants forgot to use an extended lanyard and managed to destroy the gun and seriously injure himself. With the Bofors guns out of action, the gunners were ordered to take their rifles and rejoin the battle as infantrymen: ‘We were ordered to take up positions behind a low wall,’ recalled Fred Coster. ‘We were facing a wood waiting for the Germans to come through it. Some of the boys had even fixed bayonets. Suddenly a man beside me slumped down – he’d been shot. The fire was coming from a ruined building behind us. It was a Fifth Columnist – he shot another one. Then my mate Harry Champion turned and fired. Out of the window slumped a man dressed in a French uniform. Harry said, “You won’t shoot any more you bastard!” ’

On the morning of the 12th, there were few among the Highlanders who believed the fight could go on much longer. Dick Taylor had manned many defensive positions in the last few days but by that morning it was clear the fight was over. The previous day they had come under attack by enemy tanks and attempted to resist the attack with machine-gun fire. It was hopeless – one moment they heard the order ‘Open fire’ then the next order they heard was ‘Every man for himself!’ With no hope of escape, Taylor and his mates made their way to the high ground above the town but soon came under fire. Taking shelter behind a monument, they stayed low and hoped no one could see them. When one French soldier raised himself above the ground he was immediately shot in the chest. After nightfall, they returned to the town in the hope that the Royal Navy might be able to get boats into the harbour under the cover of darkness. Wounded men were laid out on stretchers awaiting evacuation, but there were no ships. That night Taylor slept in a local cinema before rising in the morning and making his way back up to the high ground and rejoining a detachment from his own regiment. There he and his comrades simply spent the last few hours waiting for the enemy to arrive to take them prisoner. His comrade Jim Charters recalled that, on the morning of the surrender, he soon realized any further resistance was futile since he had just half a belt of ammunition left for his ‘drill purposes only’ Vickers machine-gun.

The situation was much the same for the men Major-General Fortune had chosen to reclaim the ground around the town. Orders were given that the 23rd Field Regiment Royal Artillery should provide supporting fire. However, it was soon discovered many of the gunners had already stripped the breach blocks from the guns to prevent them falling into enemy hands. Despite the difficulties, some of the remaining gunners set to work to restore the guns to working order. Deprived of artillery cover, the infantry continued with the planned attack. As they advanced they found surrendering French troops crossing their path, preventing them from engaging the enemy. Under cover of the chaotic conditions, enemy tanks and infantry were soon able to outflank the Highlanders, surrounding the advancing infantry and forcing their surrender.

As dawn broke that next morning, the Germans watched as some troops attempted to continue the evacuation from the steep cliffs to the west of St Valery. Many became committed to one last desperate effort to reach safety. Surrounded by an ever-encroaching enemy they clung to the hope of rescue by Royal Navy vessels in the Channel. In desperation, some of the forlorn soldiers fell to their deaths while attempting to descend the cliff faces. Both British and French soldiers began to crowd around on the cliff tops, anxious to reach the beach below to board a boat back to England. In their haste to escape the enemy some tried to descend the cliffs on ropes that were too short for the job. They were left dangling in the air, lacking the strength to climb back up and unable to lower themselves any further. There they hung until their strength had gone, they lost their grip, and crashed on to the rocks below.

Not all of the men fell to their deaths accidentally. In some locations, as the troops attempted to lower themselves to safety, German soldiers arrived on the cliff tops. Although the men descending the cliffs were in a hopeless situation, some of the Germans showed them no mercy. David Mowatt remembered: ‘They had tied their rifle slings together to make ropes and the Jerries came along and were cutting them. These were ordinary soldiers! SS, you could imagine doing that, but not ordinary soldiers. It was murderous.’

Seeing the dilemma, others raided the lorries that had brought them to the cliff tops for anything that could help them descend to the beach below. One group, waiting at a fissure in the rocks, took the ropes that held the canvas covers on their trucks and joined them together. Eventually the rope was long enough to lower men the whole distance; this was then secured at the cliff top. Private Watt, serving with the Royal Engineers, remembered the scenes: ‘The method used was to pass a loop over a man’s head, he then walked backwards down a very steep incline and lowered himself over the edge, the men at the top lowering him hand over hand.’
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The journey down the rock face was a perilous one for the already exhausted soldiers. The rocks were muddy, making it easy for them to lose their footing. Private Watt soon discovered how difficult the descent would be: ‘Eventually my turn came to go down . . . I was fully dressed, overcoat, full equipment – less my pack – my clothes being sodden with rain, my rifle slung. I had grave doubts about the strength of the rope as I must have weighed a considerable amount, but there was no time to hesitate.’ Slinging the rope over his shoulder, he walked back and gave the signal for the others to begin lowering: ‘I risked one look then closed my eyes quickly. It was a very unnerving descent as I kept twisting one way, stop, then twirl the other way.’
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The survivors who gathered on the beaches prayed for salvation but none came. Around them they could see the bodies of those who had fallen to their deaths from ropes that had not been long enough for them to reach safety. With nowhere to take cover, they faced assault by German dive bombers and came under increasingly heavy fire from snipers who had taken up positions further along the cliff tops. As time passed, machine-gunners joined in, raining fire down on to those who dared expose themselves on parts of the beach. Finding themselves trapped by the advancing enemy, one group even took shelter in a cave, intending to fight it out from behind a barricade of rocks. When the Germans eventually reached the cave the men within realized their situation was hopeless. A few hand grenades thrown into the cave would cause chaos. They made the only sensible decision and surrendered.

Despite the dangers, other waiting troops began to wade out to sea, attempting to get on to the rowing boots that were ferrying men out to a destroyer waiting offshore. This ship was their only hope of escape. It was also firing its heavy guns towards German batteries on the cliffs and drawing some fire away from the desperate soldiers. Yet it was not enough. With shells continuing to land among the men on the beach, Private Watt and his mates decided to join the swimmers attempting to reach a French trawler waiting offshore. Discarding their equipment and rifles, stripping off all their uniform except their trousers, Watt and his mates swam out towards the boat.

Despite the strong currents they reached the trawler and climbed up a rope ladder on to the decks. In an attempt to stop the boat being swamped by desperate soldiers, sailors on board the trawler cut the rope ladder, sending men tumbling down on to the swimmers below. What happened next revealed that those on board were no safer than those struggling through the surf:A shell landed right amidships, apparently in the engine room. There was a terrible noise of escaping steam. Two quick-firing guns on deck were still firing madly away . . . We could feel the shock as several shells hit the ship, mostly about the water line . . . Then they opened up with anti-tank guns . . . holes started to appear in the sides above our heads. Men all around were hit, very few escaping injury. Some were killed at once and many dying after only a few minutes.
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The men on board faced a terrible dilemma. Surely if they remained on board they would be killed. Yet looking into the water around them, they could see swimming men being hit by rifle fire from the cliffs. With the boat ablaze and slowly sinking the survivors began to help the wounded men on to the decks. All they could do was to pray that salvation might come, but neither Allied nor German vessels appeared to save them. Some men even tried to build a raft to help ferry the wounded ashore, but it sank as soon as it was launched.

Realizing the wounded would not survive in the water if the boat went down, the troops raised a Red Cross flag to signal to the enemy that the men on board would resist no longer. Eventually, a German officer appeared on the beach and called out to the survivors. All the able-bodied men were to swim ashore and leave the wounded on board. If they did not comply immediately they would be fired upon. Their situation was hopeless. There was nothing they could do but to swim into captivity.

As the bedraggled men dragged themselves from the water, a German officer stood on the beach offering them a swig from a bottle of spirits. One of those who pulled himself up from the water was Frank Norman, of the Royal Corps of Signallers, who was only seventeen years old. He had volunteered in June 1939 at just sixteen, falsifying his age to show he was eighteen. Like the rest of his comrades, he was to endure five long hard years of captivity – in Frank Norman’s case working in the mines of Silesia.

As the walking wounded were taken away from the beach for treatment, the other survivors were given blankets and overcoats and put into a straw-filled bivouac for the night. Exhausted, they slept through an artillery barrage that landed around them. Such were the extremes of hunger experienced by these men, they were forced to scavenge for grain amid the straw of their bedding.

As this drama was being played out another ship was also sacrificed in the desperate efforts to rescue the division. The Dutch motor barge
Hebe II
was sunk off the French coast with eighty soldiers on board. There were no records of any surviors.