Pouring My Art Out

The British Navy was stretched thin, fighting against both the Germans and the Japanese all over the globe. Big ships could not approach the French beaches without running aground. Soldiers were forced to try to swim out to the nearest ships, or wait, chest deep in the rough surf, for small dinghies from the ships to be rowed in to fetch them, battling the rough waters, a handful at a time.

Nazi planes dropped bombs and strafed with machine guns, not only the men on the beaches and in the water, but the bigger ships and small boats as well. German artillery began to fall on the beaches from the advancing German army.

The British Admiralty couldn’t risk too many of their own ships. Many had already been lost or damaged trying to evacuate the troops, and done a remarkable job, but time was running out. There were a few piers in the town of Dunkirk itself, and men crowded those, but they were also the target of enemy planes and artillery. The evacuations were going too slowly, and this army, that had gone to fight the enemy and try to save France, Belgium and the Netherlands, were the vast majority of the forces that England had available. All they had to oppose the Nazis if they invaded Britain at the close of this campaign.

Huge numbers of French troops were also trapped with the British on the coast. They had to save as many of them as they could also, but this added to the confusion, and the size of the task. The clock was ticking, the enemy was closing in. The British did what the British do. They carried on.

A call went out to the coasts of England. Every vessel of any size seaworthy enough to cross the channel was requested to aid in the rescue. They couldn’t command the boats and their crews to go. They were civilians. The Navy tried to organize enough sailors from the fleet to man some of the boats, or to beef up their crews, but there were not nearly enough men. Volunteers were needed.

Once again, that lovely, oh-so-polite society of tea-sipping maniacs reminded the world that they had once ruled the largest empire on earth, and were not to be trifled with. Or, as my aunt Norah, who was in London during the endless German bombings of the Blitz once told me, “They weren’t going to let that Hitler chap keep them from doing what they need to get done”.

Pretty much every seaman, from captains to cooks, mechanics and crewmen, fishermen and cabin boys and all, demanded to be allowed to go. Young boys who were learning the ropes and old sailors long since retired, all clamored to be allowed to participate.

But that isn’t all. The miracle of Dunkirk was in the making. Boats of all sizes, with their crews, began to swarm within the harbors, ports, rivers and seaside towns of Britain. From tiny sailboats like the one in my photo, to car ferries, fishing boats of all sizes and types, commercial craft, sightseeing boats, barges, and tug boats, the boats began to head to the coast of France.

There weren’t enough Navy ships to provide support against the German planes. The RAF, the Royal Air Force, was already in a fight for its life against the bombings in England, and over the coast of France, but had little to spare. The Navy did try to arm some of the vessels, but mostly with outdated machine guns. They threw in a few Navy personnel to man the weapons, but there was little else they could do.

For days and nights, the little ships chugged or sailed back and forth across the Channel. Small craft were used to go into the beaches to help bring soldiers to the bigger boats further out. Larger vessels loaded these troops on board until sometimes the boats were at risk of swamping, then headed for home.

Remember, as this all went on, that German planes were attacking the beaches and the ships at sea. And artillery shells were falling all around, and into the sea as well. These untrained, mostly unarmed heroes went about their tasks, keeping calm and carrying on. Imagine being in that little sail boat there, loaded to the scuppers with wet, starving, shivering soldiers, on a cold, rough sea, while enemy aircraft shot machine gun bullets at you, and dropped bombs all about.

It really was a miracle, and a tribute to a brave people. You should freekin’ Google it. It is your history too. Or at least watch the movie about it that came out a few years ago. I also threw in a photo of a World War Two cruiser, named, I believe, ‘The Belfast’. It is docked as a museum right near the Tower Bridge. And also a photo of the flags being flown in the town in front of Windsor castle to commemorate Victory In Europe day.