Preparing To Flee

The whole nation was constantly tuned into the radio broadcasts, still under control of the Belgian Government. We were kept informed and up to date as far as that was possible. We learned there was fierce fighting to defend the Albert Canal, but it soon became evident which side had the upper hand. The Allied Armies had to retreat. The King of Belgium, Leopold, capitulated. Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, he chose to lay down arms, rather than to extend the misery and bloodshed of his people. Some thought him to be a coward and a traitor. Others admired his kind of courage: to be honest in admitting he had no way of resisting the onslaught of the Nazi might.

The British government ordered a complete retreat and organized the lifting of Dunkirk. The Dutch, Belgian and French governments were hurriedly shipped or flown to London. All men of military age, from eighteen years old upward were urged to head for Dunkirk, where a fleet of every conceivable vessel was ceaselessly sailing back and forth, taking civilians and soldiers alike to safety.

The exodus of refugees started. In our street everybody was outside, talking in little groups, discussing and debating whether to join the endless procession of fleeing citizens. Already some of the frightening tales of the horrors of war, some greatly exaggerated, were being relayed. Some stories were only too true. We could clearly hear the spasmodic rattle of machine guns of the swooping airplanes, strafing the column of refugees moving along the nearby highway.

Some people remained quite calm and philosophical, prepared to face whatever lay in store and chose the safety of their homes, rather than expose themselves to the obvious dangers that lay ahead if they too joined the long trek to the coast. A number of families decided to risk their luck and began packing some basic belongings.

To illustrate what often motivated some people to take such drastic action, to leave house and home and everything they owned behind, to venture into an escapade, not knowing what they might have to endure, needs some explaining.

Many had bitter memories of the First World War and they were scared for their families and themselves. As an example: my father's own experience, which we had often been told. His own father had been a blacksmith, employed by the City Council, when most transport was still horse- drawn and the town had its own smithies to shoe their horses. My father worked with him as an apprentice. He was seventeen. Under the German occupation of 1914-1918 at the time, the City administration was under German control and their foreman was a beastly type of German officer. One day he abused my grandfather so much that it provoked my father into striking the officer. As a result, the next day, two German military police came to the house to arrest him. My father had expected it and was prepared. He decided to make a run for it. He made for the attic and through a skylight, climbed onto the roof and ran precariously, the whole length of the row of houses along the rooftops and so temporarily escaped. He was caught and arrested in the end and sent to a labour camp in Germany for the remainder of the war, two long years. Although there were none of the atrocities that would take place in the coming war, his experiences were grim enough to fill him with dread and hatred for the Germans. By no means were we then fully aware of the extent of the evils of the Nazi regime, but my father, always a well informed and political man, had gleaned enough knowledge about the notorious SS troops and the Gestapo. He knew it would be far worse than it had been before and he wanted to get away. He persuaded a neighbour and friend with a large family of ten children to join forces as two families and take to the road.