Eleven Kilometers With A Boot That Squelched Blood With Every Step.(3)

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This is another excerpt from my father's memoirs. It was 1940 and the Germans were closing in, and the British Army had been told to make their way to the coast of France, so that hopefully they could get a boat back to England. His own words: "After the farce of the weapon training where one of our friends got killed, we evacuated our camp. Bundled into the back of transport, the convoy set off and headed for the coast. We had been instructed not to dismount from our vehicles unless so ordered, even with enemy Stuka planes circling getting ready to strafe us. To hell with that - I learnt to dive into a ditch first and wait for the order later! We soon lost all our vehicles to the bombers, and it was to take us 10 days of hard marching before we got to our destination. One of the places we stopped at was called Pont Eveque, and we camped as usual with the stars as our roof. On the perimeters of the camp were various blousy mademoiselles saying things like "Peut-etre - some fun?" We had a little pep talk from our officer who told us not to be tempted, and to remember we were on active service - any breach of discipline and we could be shot. At another camp en route a friend and I were sent to the local village to try and buy some food - my French was equal to the task. We got some eggs and a couple of fowl, but it was so hot that before returning to camp we decided to have a swim in the village pond. Here I collected my 'war wound'. The French evidently dumped their bottles in the pond, and I got a horrible gash on my big toe. The next day's march was 11 kilometers with a boot that squelched blood with every step. Soon after this we were issued with post cards of a field service type. You could not write on them, but could cross out lines like 'I have been wounded', or 'I have been taken prisoner' etc. Ethel told me afterwards that she did not worry too much until she got this postcard that was meant to reassure her!" __________________________ Photo is of my father. If you'd like to read the previous excerpts that I've posted, please click on the tag 'My Father's Memoirs' above my title here. If this gets enough interest I will post one more excerpt - his eventual evacuation from Dunkirk.