A Nightingale Sang

A Nightingale Sang Chapter 7

Chapter 7 A Long Walk To A Crowded Beach

Blitzkrieg they called it. The offensive in the Netherlands and the Low countries was deadly swift and decisive. Poor Holland and Belgium so desperate to be neutral. What had Hitler cared for their neutrality, he had just bulldozed his way through. The British Expeditionary Force and the Allies had never encountered anything like this before.

Lieutenant Henry Lennox lay in a ditch, the pathetically inadequate Lee Enfield Rifle at his side would be no match for a German Panzer division. His battalion was defending a crossing of the River Dyle a few miles east of Brussels. Like much of the country the valley was flat and open affording little cover. The first task on arrival had been to dig the ditches. How these were to stop the advancing Germans he had no idea but in this man's army orders were not questioned.

A small bridge a little way down stream at Wolfshaegan saw a continuous stream of refuges fleeing from the advancing German army. These poor disposed people, with their meagre possessions in carts and prams, despair desolation and fear, etched deep into their exhausted faces. Weak from walking for miles with no food or water. Where were they heading? Henry wondered. What horror had they left behind? Children whimpered and clung to their mothers skirts. Old men from another generation, survivors from the last war to be fought on Belgium soil, trudged onwards their faces carved like masks, no doubt wondering what they had fought for. Sporadic gun fire had the refuges dropping to the floor arms over their heads, a response to the trauma they had already suffered.

Henry was beginning to lose track of the days was it the 13th or 14th of May. He really had no idea, but guessed it must be the fourteenth. They had arrived here two days ago their orders to head for the front line. He had been going to march on eastwards when a young Captain had asked him where he was going.

"We have been detailed to head for the front line Sir."

The captain had shook his head ruefully.

"You are at the bloody front line. Carry on that way and you will be cannon fodder for the 5th Panzer division"

He felt as though he had been in this ditch ever since he arrived and now thanks to persistent rain the river had breached its bank and the trench was filling with water. Wet, cold, tired, hungry and disillusioned, Henry wondered what he was doing fighting in some foreign field. His brother was the military son, a Captain posted some where in France. Henry thought I am a lawyer what do I know of tactics and strategy. The drone of an aeroplane could be heard in the distance, he called for the men to get down the only aeroplanes they had seen were the Luftwaffe, Henry and the other men concluded, only the Lord knew where the RAF were, for they had not seen them. Several bombs exploded all around and added to the periodic shelling that was happening Henry thought that it could only be a matter of time before they would have to retreat.

Once the bombing stopped Henry and his small group of troops were relieved.

"Sir," Henry approached the Captain. "Where can my men get food? We have none of the rations we were given at Louvaine left."

"There is a farmhouse at the entrance to the valley you may find food there. We have no supplies, months of waiting and then this offensive. Belgium would not let us put supplies in place. Even though invasion was always likely. Belgium counted on being neutral, they thought that would save them." He shook his head sadly as the field telephone rang.

They made their way along the road to the old stone farmhouse. As they entered the farm yard the farmers wife called out in French.

"You wish to eat."

Henry looked at the others, who looked blankly at him. Nobody spoke French.

He looked at the women and tried to explain.

"Je ne parle Frances." he stuttered wishing he had paid attention at school.

The woman smiled and mimed eating.

Soon the men were eating Chicken bread and cheese she even found some wine. If he closed his eyes he could almost believe he was back in England and sharing a meal with Margaret, his sister in law's cousin. A commotion outside had the men jumping up. Henry heart pounding in his chest pushed the women into the store cupboard. He dashed to the window and let out a huge sigh of relief, they were British armoured vehicles, not German. They ran into the yard and flagged one down.

"Get the hell out of here the Germans are no more than a few miles behind us." The man shouted.

Gathering their stuff they told the women to leave. How much she understood Henry could only guess. He and the others ran back down the Valley to join the rest of the men defending the river. The company had moved back several hundred yards. For the next few hours they exchanged gun fire with some snipers and were subjected to further bombing. At last the powers that be bowed to the inevitable and order a full retreat. Henry watched as the bridge was blown up in an attempt to slow the Germans down.

Moving out of the Valley was a slow arduous task, the fields were now no better than a bog. After more than an hour and with daylight fading they moved out of the valley. It was another six hours before they made it to some woods. The men all flopped down protected by the cover it gave.

"Ok men we rest up for three hours and then we move on." The young captain was weary. Henry felt sorry for him, so much responsibility so young. His thoughts moved to his brother Max. Was he in the same situation? Henry had to believe Max, who had been in the army before the war would be equal to the job.

They moved of at daybreak. Henry was given the task of bringing up the rear. They stuck to the fields which at least afforded some cover but walking across the uneven terrain of the fields was physically tiring and watching the rear constantly was mentally draining. On they marched with little food or water. Passing through the villages was a trauma all its own, seeing the haunted looks of the locals who gathered to cheer as they entered the villages only to realise this was an army in full retreat. Not one that was going to save them. Henry had never known shame like it. It felt as if the first time they had to stand to fight they had been whipped soundly and now had turned and were leaving with there tail between their legs. Some of the men shouted out that they would be back, Henry wondered when. It did not help that they had no idea why they were running. Had Holland fallen? What of the battle to the South in France? Henry never knew how he looked the Belgium people in the eyes as they were left to their fate.

On they walked for several days, where they could they hung close to woods and fields. Not only were they constantly watching the rear but the skies as well. Henry lost track of how many times they had come under attack. He didn't forget the day they had dug a grave for two fallen colleagues. Another was badly wounded he had told then to leave him but the other men would not hear of it and carried him on. Progress was slow. Where ever they came across abandon military equipment they were ordered to destroy it. Eventually they got word they were to make for Dunkirk.

"The coast! We will be cut of." Henry looked at the Captain in shock.

"There is a plan Lieutenant Lennox to evacuate us back to England. The Navy is on its way there now as we speak."

"What of France and Belgium." Henry asked shocked that they were just going to be left.

"Henry we cannot win the battle of France the only thing we can do is get as many men back to England so we still have an army."

They arrived at Dunkirk, the noise confusion and sheer numbers of people was unbelievable. The Beaches were crowed, long lines of soldiers snaked out to sea.

It wasn't possible Henry could not see how they would ever escape.

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