Authors: D.E. Kirk
“Well Sir I was thinking, you can’t give it to Lord Gort because he’s returned to England, so I thought perhaps if it was sensitive we should perhaps destroy it?”
“Good God man! Don’t you see, this is most important, destroy it, no indeed no… My orders are to deliver it to Lord Gort personally.” he drawled, failing to see the hopelessness of his task.
“I think what the Bombardier means Sir,” said Ronny again trying to prevent things getting out of hand, “is that if the material is sensitive we might be safer destroying it”?
The Captain looked at us as if we’d all gone mad. “No, you just don’t seem to understand, any of you. My orders do not include destroying the documents, no one said I had to destroy them, don’t you see that?”
“Yes Sir, I understand, but what if we don’t make it to Dunkirk, what if we are captured by the enemy and the dispatches fall into enemy hands Sir? What then?” said Ronny trying so hard to get through?
“Don’t you think I have enough problems Private? Without you adding to them.” snapped the Captain.
“Perhaps you’d permit me to make a suggestion then Sir?” continued Ronny, still maintaining a tone of calm subservience, although actually treating the Captain very much like a child.
“We could hide the case in here? In the tomb and then when it was safe for you to do so you could come back to get it”.
“That’s a brilliant suggestion Private. Yes that’s what we’ll do, can’t understand why you’re not in charge here instead of that Bombardier who hasn’t had an original idea since I got here.
Not wanting to give him time to change his mind Ronny took the dispatch case and shoved it down behind the coffin on one of the middle shelves.
Dusk was coming rapidly to the churchyard now, we would not have long to wait for our departure.
The speed with which the darkness fell could be easily gauged by Fishy’s uneasiness.
He was the one in our crew who was usually the least bothered by any turn of events but true to his earlier predictions he really was having difficulty remaining calm as the tomb became ever darker.
I was wondering if we were going to have to actually physically restrain him, when Harry announced that the priest was on his way towards us.
He again tapped on the door and came straight in
“My friends are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes father we are ready to go, how do you propose to get us there? I think it might be too risky for us all to go together.”
“I have the same thoughts.” he replied “So what I propose is this, the barge is about fifteen minutes away when you are walking, you already know where the canal is, I propose to take the first two of you. One of which should be my nervous friend here.” He said with a smile, squeezing Fishy’s shoulder. “Then you others leave also in twos, after intervals of five minutes. I can return some of the way to take each group, the last part of the way, to the barge, are we agreed?”
“That sounds Ok to me father.” I said, and told Harry that he would be going first with Fishy. They left the tomb and quickly disappeared into the gloom; I left the door open, wider than usual listening for anything unusual but heard nothing. I looked at my watch and then said to the Captain, “Might I suggest that you go next Sir, with Gunner Regis?”
“That suits me Bombardier are you ready Regis?” he said moving to the door.
“Erm I think we have to hang on for a few moments yet Sir.” Ronny drawled
“What? Oh yes, cloak and dagger stuff, what!” said the Captain, chuckling loudly and putting the fear of God into those of us left in the tomb.
A couple of minutes later I gave Ronny the word, wished him good luck and they set off through the door and off down the path. I couldn’t help but feel guilty saddling Ronny with the Captain but it was our best hope of keeping him under some sort of control.
Five minutes later Jack and I set off. The night was still and there was a new moon shining, it was reasonably dark, particularly when clouds passed in front of it. Jack and I kept up a brisk pace but remained cautious. On occasions, dependant on the fall of the land, we could see the moon reflected in the canal at the bottom of the hill, there appeared to be nothing in our way.
We were getting close to the old stable now and I thought that I’d caught a glance of the priest on his way back to meet us. We were just beginning to relax a little when we heard the sound of a powerful motorcycle. Moments later we saw the slot of yellow light from the headlight of a BMW motorbike and sidecar. It came to a stop at the end of the track leading to the canal. On the bike was a helmeted rider and in the sidecar a passenger, in the usual German helmet, sitting holding a machine pistol. Jack and I took cover behind a wall and watched just out of earshot, as a moment later the priest was stopped by the two Germans. A muffled conversation took place and we could see the priest start to relax and heard laughter from the little group. Out came the pipe and even from this distance, about thirty yards away, we caught the odd whiff of his awful tobacco.
Eventually the rider kicked his machine back into life and we watched as the Germans continued on their way, with much waving and shouted goodbyes from both the soldiers and the priest. He walked on towards us but when he got level with us gestured with his hand for us to stay hidden and whispered to us to stay quiet. He continued walking up the hill towards the church, how he knew what was going to happen I couldn’t have guessed but a couple of minutes later back down the path came the motorcycle. This time it turned towards us, as it followed the road up towards the church. They drew slowly level with the priest and then accelerated past him, waving and shouting to him as they did so and eventually disappeared from view.
We watched him wait for a few minutes and then turn and trot back to where we were still hidden.
“Come quickly we don’t have much time.” he said, heading off towards the canal path.
“Father,” I said, trotting along-side of him “how did you know they would come back?”
“Perhaps it was guidance from our heavenly father” he said, then turning to me with a smile he said, “Or maybe it was just because I knew the road they first took was not for vehicles, what you English call a dead end eh?”
We arrived at the barge, it was bigger than I had expected, about sixty foot long and at least ten feet wide with a wheelhouse at the rear. We were met there by a shabbily dressed man, who the priest introduced as Herve the barge -master. We were quickly taken on board, still accompanied by the priest, we were led below. The priest told us that Herve spoke no English but would communicate to us using Ronny as an interpreter.
The barge appeared to be fully loaded with coal; however they had cleverly cleared a space and built a sort of shelter, covered by the coal and a large tarpaulin, making it look as though it was all part of the cargo.
In there, Jack and I found the rest of our crew and the Captain. The barge-master spoke to the priest, who came in to say his goodbyes to us, shaking hands with us all and wishing us luck. The boats, diesels, were already idling; and almost as soon as the priest had left us we felt movement as the barge got under way. It was fairly dark in our hideaway but we felt ourselves into comfortable positions.
“Is this better than the tomb then Fish?” I asked, beginning to relax a little.
“Blinking anythink is better than that tomb, Bomb! I hated it, but this is like home to me, back on a boat at last, even if it is only a flipping barge!”
We heard the Captain fiddling about and I wondered what he was doing I didn’t have to wonder for long, the flame of his lighter illuminated our surroundings, as he lit a cigarette.
“I don’t believe this!” I said as I used both hands to snatch the cigarette and the lighter from him. “Bombardier how dare you?” he shouted.
“Sir,” I replied “are you trying to blow us all up? Don’t you know how inflammable coal dust is?”
“Inflammable … consider yourself under open arrest. I’m putting you on a charge of insubordination; now give me that lighter this instant!”
I did nothing, waiting to see what he would do next.
“Don’t make me draw my pistol Bombardier.” said the Captain, we could hear him fiddling about in the dark.
“Permission to speak Sir?” said Ronny.
After the Captain had given him permission Ronny in his best conciliatory tones, suggested that using the pistol might draw attention to us and that as an alternative he and the rest of the crew could put me under close arrest once we had left the barge. The Captain agreed to this but told Ronny to get the lighter back for him. Ronny asked me to pass it to him, however as I put my hand towards him he told the Captain that he’d dropped it in the dark, he wasn’t to know that I hadn’t even attempted to hand it over to Ronny.
Everything settled down again eventually, a silence descended over us. I don’t think any of us wanted to speak, for fear of starting the Captain off again. After some time the tarpaulin was pulled back and the barge-master came into our hideaway. He had a big jug of hot coffee and some cups that he handed over to Harry and Jack. He spoke to Ronny, who in turn told us that we were making good speed.
We drank the coffee and settled down again, now we could hear the sound of bombing with shellfire in the distance. À quick peek out from under the tarpaulin showed a distant horizon being lit up by flashes from intermittent explosions.
Much later we felt, rather than saw, the barge slowing down and eventually stop with a few slight bumps, which I assumed were when it pulled into the wharf.
After a few minutes we heard footsteps and the barge-master pulled back the tarpaulin and with a small hand-torch, he gestured for us to follow him.
“vous et ici, vite, vite!” we all knew enough French to know what he meant. We grabbed our few belongings and followed him through the coal and out of the hold.
He turned off the torch, put his head up, out of the hatch, looked around and then went up on deck again, indicating that we should follow him. He led us to a plank, spanning the gap between the barge and the land, wished us ‘bonne chance’, and as each of us jumped ashore he gave us all an encouraging pat on the back…
We slipped into the shadows and watched as he went into his wheelhouse, no doubt relieved to have completed his task.
Quickly we walked away putting a safe distance between us and the barge. Eventually we entered a short tunnel and as we got towards the end we took the opportunity for a rest, we all crouched down looking out towards Dunkirk. In the distance, the night sky was still being lit by the occasional flash. As we neared the darkest hour we could tell that the bombing had reduced considerably from that which we had briefly witnessed earlier.
“Ok lads,” I said, “We can risk a fag and then I think, we’ll get going while it’s still dark.” They didn’t need telling twice, the tins of cigarettes were soon out and Harry, shielding the flame of his lighter, gave us all a light.
“You really should not be telling us what to do Bombardier,” said the Captain, “have you forgotten you are under arrest for insubordination?”
I didn’t answer him, it seemed pointless, we now had only six miles left to do before we would join up with other British troops, although I realised with this man with us, we were not going to make it, he was a liability, capture was inevitable.
I tried to think what to do, this crew was my responsibility, yet the Captain, despite his obvious lack of any common sense was still an officer. I knew that if we didn’t obey him, in the British Army there could be no justification for our insubordination. Although I didn’t care for myself, I was not going to risk capture or worse for my crew, just for the sake of this man’s ego.
With the Captain in our midst I had no opportunity to discuss the problem with the others, however I should have known better and had more faith in them and in their ingenuity.
We set off again, walking along the canal towpath which was on an embankment raised from the flat land below. The Captain was leading, with me behind him, the rest of the lads in close order behind, he was strolling along with no effort at concealment, seemingly unaware of any danger.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and looked behind to see that the others were missing and there was only Fishy who had a finger to his lips and was pointing down off the embankment, I followed him quietly dropping down away from the path, leaving the Captain striding away into the darkness. I couldn’t help but grin as the rest of the lads gathered around me “Does this mean I’m not under arrest any more, I whispered?” “Bloody hell Bomb, we thought you was bad enough but he was even worse!” whispered Fishy in reply, we all chuckled.
We carefully made our way down to the bottom of the embankment and got into the hedgerow, while Ronny checked the map. He worked out a route heading more north-west than we had been doing. He told us this would both increase the distance between us and the Captain and take us more directly to the beaches, perhaps knocking half a mile off the way that we had been going.
Ronny had chosen well, the road we were going down was little more than a single track lane, bordered on each side by tall hawthorn hedges.
We had been walking along in silence for about twenty minutes, Ronny leading and Fishy, who was regularly glancing behind him to ensure the Captain didn’t find us again, bringing up the rear. Ronny put his hand up to stop us and we moved over to the side of the road.
“What is it?” I whispered. “I’m not sure, but something’s isn’t right.” he whispered back, putting a finger to his lips before the others started to talk. Fishy leaned over from the back of the group “I know,” he whispered, “I feel it too.”
We stayed crouched down at the roadside imagining all sorts of things, when after a couple of minutes Fishy pointed to the hedgerow on the other side of the road and about twenty yards in front of us.
We watched as a match flared and was replaced by the red tip of a cigarette then we heard German being spoken softly.
It looked as if they had set up posts, probably with machine guns, in the hope of catching stragglers on their way into Dunkirk.