Bravery on the beaches
HAVING taken part in the 1958 British film Dunkirk, I was looking forward to the latest film, but am surprised that in the publicity photographs the British soldiers are wearing pale-blue helmets.
And in one film clip soldiers under attack are shown holding down their helmets with a hand on top — not something you would do with shrapnel flying around.
I was a squaddie in the Gordon Highlanders serving in the Dover Castle Garrison when we were told we would have a few days out at Camber Sands in East Sussex to create a backdrop for the making of the film about Operation Dynamo, the evacuation of surrounded British and French troops from the beaches of Dunkirk in May and June 1940.
There must have been 3,000 men in the dunes and standing for hours in the water, retreating as the tide came in. We were told to imagine an incident and respond accordingly when instructed.
On a signal we were to imagine a Spitfire coming over and everyone was to cheer. On the next signal, the Spitfire was shot down and all the cheering had to stop.
The star of the film, John Mills, was friendly and joined us in a game of pontoon we were playing during a lull in activity. Filming ROY BOLTON, Oxford. was slow and the director Leslie Norman later wrote it was a logistical nightmare. Nevertheless, he made the film for £400,000, which was under budget, and on time.
BOB LOMAS, Horsham, W. Sussex.
Bicycle made for two
HOW did my Uncle Harry get off Dunkirk beach?
He had become separated from what was left of his division of the Gloucester Regiment and, under heavy enemy fire, he took cover in a ditch with half a dozen other soldiers. A German machine gun in a nearby farmhouse had them pinned down, and the British soldiers decided to attack it.
Harry and another soldier ended up in an outbuilding, where they found an old tandem bicycle. They jumped on it and pedalled like hell to Dunkirk beach, where thousands were under air attack.
After two or three days, they were ordered to bury their equipment (including the bike) and made their way to the pier, where ships were waiting.
Harry arrived in Southampton with only what he was standing in. He was put on a train with orders not to get off until instructed to do so. A fellow soldier woke him up just as they were pulling out of Bristol Temple Meads station and asked if he came from the area. Harry confirmed he did.
When the train stopped at Horfield/ Filton station a few minutes later to allow a tender to be uncoupled, the other soldier opened the carriage door and pushed Harry onto the platform.
He fell into the arms of a policeman. ‘Where have you come from and where do you think you are going?’ asked the policeman.
‘Dunkirk and home,’ replied Harry, and the policeman escorted him there. CHRIS GADD, Bath.
On the last boat
MY UNCLE George Williams from Bebington in the Wirral was in the 22nd Cheshire Regiment (TA).
He was in France as a dispatch rider and ended up in Dunkirk, where he was so tired he fell asleep in the back of an Army truck close to the beach.
He was woken by a soldier who said: ‘Come on, mate, you don’t want to stay here!’ When he arrived at the beach, there were only three people left and he got into the last boat to leave.
George was posted to Lichfield to re-join his regiment. Leaving camp one day to deliver a message, he was knocked off his motorbike by an Army ambulance and died of his injuries.
STUART CONVERY, Christleton, Cheshire.
Spaniard hitched a ride
MY FATHER was a Spaniard on the losing side in the Civil War who had walked over the Pyrenees into France, where he was put in a refugee camp.
When the Germans invaded France in 1940, the French opened the gates to the camp and told the inmates to save themselves — the Germans would have shot them for being anti-Franco.
My father found himself among the retreating British soldiers making their way to the beaches. He was picked up and put in a boat, all the time not knowing what was going on.
After landing in England, he was interrogated and put in a displaced persons’ camp in Croydon, South London, where he spent the rest of the war helping to clear bombs.
He was given permission to stay in Britain and find work, and eventually was allowed to bring my mother, my brother and me, aged 12, to England.
My family has always been grateful to this wonderful country. FRANCISCO MORA,
Chieveley, Berks.
Brothers in arms
TWO of my mother’s six brothers, John, 22 and single, and Fred, 28, who had been married for less than two years and had a young daughter, were caught up in the fighting as the Germans chased the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) to the sea.
John was involved in the battle around the village of Saint-Venant in the Pas- de-Calais, defending the crossing of the river and the Canal de la Lys.
On May 24, 1940, the 3rd Panzer Division, supported by the SS Germania Regiment, occupied the village, but the following day the Germans were temporarily pushed out. John died in the course of this action and is buried in the cemetery at Saint-Venant.
Fred was engaged in the opposition to the other wing of the Nazi pincer move to cut off the BEF. He was in Belgium, holding the line of the Ypres- Comines canal. He was killed on May 28 and is buried in the Oosttaverne