Philippa Carr: We'll meet again

“You two will have such a lot to say to each other. And, Violetta, you must be hungry. There’s nothing much in trains these days. Now I am going to have something sent to you. Come into the little sitting room. Then you can talk … I think you two would like to be alone.”

There were tears in her eyes and I saw that she was desperately trying to control her feelings and be practical.

“Thank you, Grandmother,” said Jowan. “That would be good.”

He was holding my hand tightly, as though he would never let it go.

I was happy. I had never been so happy in my life. If only I could rid myself of the terrible fear that I was dreaming and this might not be true.

There was so much to tell. Jowan insisted that I start first, so I related what had happened since that tragic day when I had been forced to admit to myself that he was not one of the survivors from Dunkirk. I explained how I had worked for a while in the Priory, which had been turned into a convalescent home for soldiers, and afterwards in London in the Ministry. I told him about the air raids in which I had been involved—not an uncommon occurrence for people who lived in London—and how I had been recuperating at Caddington when his grandmother had telephoned to tell me he was back. He listened intently.

“We heard little scraps of information—which were often exaggerated to make it really bad. We were told that London was in ruins, together with the airfields and the docks. We didn’t believe it, of course.”

“I want to hear about you, Jowan. I want to know everything.”

“I want to tell you everything, Violetta … every little detail.”

“We have a long, long time to talk.”

“First I will give you the bare bones,” he said. He told me how he and his company had been trying to get to the coast. They knew the Germans were in control and there was nothing they could do but get back home and build up new strength in order to be ready for the enemy when they came to attack Britain.

“There was not much chance of getting to Dunkirk,” he said. “The enemy were too numerous. Our company was surrounded. We were somewhere near Amiens when we were all taken prisoner. We knew what that meant. My corporal, Buster Brown, was with me. He is sharp-witted, a wiry little Cockney. He is a good cook and could work all sorts of miracles with our meager rations. He had a way of disappearing and returning with a couple of chickens. He’d concoct some dish with them, which was a luxury after tinned fish and meat of slightly mysterious origins. He admitted he raided farms for the chickens, and he used to say: ‘Well, what’s a bit of nicking? Ain’t we saving them from the Hun? Small price to pay for that and you’ve got to feed the boys that lay the golden eggs.’

“He was a great character and I never saw him disconcerted in any situation. He had always been my special servant and I often thought how different life would have been without Buster Brown.

“Well, we were surrounded and put in lorries. There was a great deal of confusion in the dash to the coast, and the gathering up of small groups of prisoners was left to young and inexperienced men newly arrived on the battle scene. We were close to a small deserted château which was probably intended to serve as a temporary prison, but perhaps because we were not a large company and there were more pressing matters to occupy the German headquarters, we remained there. In most cases there would have been some notification that we were prisoners of war but there are occasions in such times as we were living through when those matters are overlooked.

“Life was not too bad in the beginning. We had periods of exercise, strict rules of course, and not very adequate food, but most of our company were housed in the château and we were among our own people. We planned our escape continually. We knew there would be no early release. We were aware that the French were beaten and that we had lost much of our equipment and would concentrate on getting our men out. We did not know how fortunate we had been in that evacuation.

“Well, we started building our tunnel. It lent a spice of adventure to the days. We each had a turn at it. It was an arduous business—most would have said it was a hopeless task—but we lived on hope in those days. We had our little concert parties, and the Germans looked on at us in bewilderment. There was complete misunderstanding between us. They were amazed by our hilarious laughter at the jokes—usually jibes against them—and the amateur efforts of our ‘artistes.’ What amused us so much was that it was during these concert parties that the larger part of our tunnel digging was in progress.

“This went on slowly. Imagine our dismay when we thought we were near completion—that must have been over two years’ work—to find that we had come out on the wrong side of the wall and were still inside the castle! But we were resilient. We kept going. We made plans for our final success. We arranged how people should escape—not all at once, but two by two. We would have a rota. That was how it went.

“We kept a certain discipline amongst ourselves. We had to stay cheerful and hopeful. Someone had a pack of cards and we played some evenings; but the cards became dogeared and having only one pack was constricting.

“It was the tunnel which was the great excitement. And then there came the Normandy landings. We were not sure what was happening, but everything had changed. The attitude of our guards was different. They were jumpy, nervous. There was less food. There would be occasions when the guards were almost lax and others the opposite.

“We knew something was going on. Some of our men had a smattering of German and they picked up one or two things through eavesdropping. So we learned that the Allies were now in France. You might have thought that, after waiting four years, we could wait a little longer to be released. But it wasn’t like that. The fervor to be free had increased. We had more opportunities to get on digging the tunnel and we seized them.

“Then … it was completed and this time it came out outside the château. Several of the men escaped and we believed they had got safely away. We only went two at a time, but it was not long before absentees were noted, in spite of the slackness of control. A guard was set at the top of the tower to keep watch throughout the night. At any movement they would shoot immediately. Sometimes during the night we would hear shots and wonder if those who were attempting to escape had got away. We were never told, of course.

“And then it was my turn. I was to go with Buster Brown. He looked upon me as his protégé. He reminded me of a nanny I once had. He thought I needed looking after and there was no question of one of us going without the other.

“Violetta, I shall never forget that night. The watch was in position and there was a crescent moon which shed enough light to reveal our escape at any movement, I feared. We preferred the moonless nights, of course, and clouds were welcome; but on this night the sky was cloudless.

“We could take little with us and we had no money; but we did have a little food which we had been storing over the days and which was given to those who were attempting to escape.

“We got through the tunnel—not the easiest of feats, for it was very low and in some places too narrow for comfort—but we were agile and determined. Then there was that glorious moment when we emerged into the open—no longer prisoners, but, for the first time in more than four years, free men.

“The searchlight moved quickly over the expanse of grass outside the château. We crouched on the ground when the light came our way.

“It was not easy. I heard the shots ring out and I was aware of a sudden burning pain in my arm. I thought, I’ve had it. This is the end. Then I heard Buster whisper, ‘Keep still. Flat on the ground. Don’t move a muscle.’ I obeyed and the searchlight passed over us and went on.