When the evening got late, people began drifting away, leaving just Tilly and Jed. They walked together back to her ambulance bedroom and as they said goodnight under the stars of a clear sky, Jed kissed her gently on the lips. So, he found her attractive. She was cautious about how she should respond, however, for she had been warned that relationships formed under war conditions were short-lived. One of you could be wiped out under mortar fire or your ambulance could be blown up by a landmine. She returned his kiss, though, for there was a lot to be said for taking what you could from life when life could be taken from you at any moment.
When she crept into the tent, Fliss turned over on her camp bed. ‘You’re late,’ she said.
‘Mmm,’ Tilly murmured. ‘You missed a good night over at the canteen.’
‘Too exhausted to even drink wine.’ Fliss groaned. ‘What a day we’ve had.’
‘Me too,’ Tilly replied, almost glowing bright enough for Fliss to see. Her voice betrayed her excitement.
‘I want to hear all about it . . . In the morning, though,’ Fliss said, almost falling back to sleep before her head hit the pillow again.
The following morning, Tilly was awake before Fliss even stirred. Tilly was fizzing with what had happened last evening, but sharing the full details would have to wait until later.She went to get breakfast and was about to leave for her first assignment of the day, when she saw Jed heading for the operating theatre. He looked her way and smiled a broad smile. She hoped the experience of the previous night would be repeated.
Chapter 20
May 1940
It was a quiet morning and Tilly wasn’t needed immediately, so she was tasked with Fliss to give the ambulance a thorough disinfection and clean. There had not been much action for the troops recently and, although there was a certain amount of relief, there was also a sense of agitation. It was almost too quiet. Like the lull before the storm.
When the postal delivery arrived, the medical staff, as well as the soldiers, crowded around the delivery van waiting to see if there was anything for them. Tilly was delighted to see that there was a letter for her. Was it from Ronnie?
Tilly sat on the steps of the ambulance and carefully opened the air mail envelope.
This was the first communication Tilly had received from home. It seemed a miracle to her that it had arrived at all. Her hands were shaking as she opened the letter. It was indeed from Ronnie. She was in trepidation about what he would have to say. The RAF wouldn’t have been her choice for him. At least if you’re a foot soldier there were others to watch your back. His vulnerability up there on his own in the sky gave her bad dreams. She had visions of his plane being hit, coming down over enemy territory, lying injured somewhere.
She knew that casualty and death rates amongst young, inexperienced pilots were high. The average life expectancy was four weeks. She read the letter with a beating heart. It was dated 4 February 1940. So, it had taken months to find her. She was pleased to hear from him, as they would soon be moving back with the Royals to the beaches of Dunkirk. The offensive against the Germans was not going well and the British Expeditionary Force were at risk of capture, which would mean the collapseof the Allied cause. The regiment was directed to fall back in order to protect the routes to Dunkirk, in preparation for an evacuation. Tilly and Fliss had not been in France for very long and now they were being forced back to the coast for what, to Tilly, sounded like a risky plan to rescue thousands of troops and medical staff from the beaches of Dunkirk. Tilly read the letter with joy at having heard from Ronnie, but was anxious about when or how they might be reunited.
Dear Tilly,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am pleased to tell you that I have finished my Spitfire training. So, by the time you are reading this, I will be airborne and a fully-fledged member of the Spitfire Club. Sarah and Anthony have settled into Micklewell. They are very happy there. Sarah and Kate have started up their own sewing business and it seems to be going well. I feel so much happier now that I know she is safe. When this war is over, we can make plans to get married.
I went to see the family in Micklewell before I started my training and it was lovely to be back. Unfortunately, I didn’t see Rose and Annie as they are both away working. I can’t believe that they are becoming such independent young women, but then they have a fine example set to them by their mother and aunty. The Truscott women are made of stern stuff. In a quiet village like Micklewell the war seems so distant, but there is not one family there that hasn’t been affected and touched in some way. There are those, of course, whoremember the first war and they know the real truth of it, but they speak little of it. Albert must be relieved that he is over the upper age limit for conscription. He’s done his bit. William has joined up, though. He’s joined the Royal Navy. Dot is beside herself with worry, but keeps busy with her teaching. She and Amelia are talking of taking in evacuee children. You know how soft-hearted they are.
Mum was very tearful when I left and I sensed that there was something she wasn’t telling me. She clung onto me as if it was the last time she would see me. She whispered something about Philip and I didn’t know who she was referring to. I didn’t want to ask her as she seemed so upset. Do you have any idea what she was talking about? Who this person is? A relative that I’ve not heard about perhaps?
Look after yourself, Tilly. Remember, no heroics. At least you are back from the front line, but danger is all around you. Next time the Luftwaffe fly over you, look up and think of me shooting them down.
With all my love,
Ronnie
Tilly looked at the letter again. She didn’t know the name Philip at all. As far as she knew, there wasn’t anyone of that name in the Truscott family. It was all a bit of a mystery. She decided to leave her reply to him until she was home. They would be worried about her at home, she knew, but thewithdrawal was going to be a hectic time and she knew that she just wouldn’t have time for letter-writing.
The Royals began preparing to move back towards Dunkirk. The Germans were pushing the English troops back to the coast, to trap them between their forces and the English Channel. They had been given instructions to withdraw. So, the following morning, 18 May, they packed up their tents and all their gear and moved out. Tilly, Fliss and Yvette carried the most severely wounded onto the ambulances. There was a cavalcade of ambulances, followed by trucks full of men in various states of injury, bodies patched up and repaired enough to make them able to travel. They were short on medicines and most of the men who were in dreadful pain had to suffer. The nurses did as much for them as they could, but they knew that a good many of them would not make it.
They made slow progress towards Dunkirk, for not only were there a great many soldiers and equipment on the move, but the state of the roads was dire and a great deal of time was spent pushing lorries out of muddy holes and repairing tyres that had punctured and engines that had broken down. Some simply ran out of fuel and had to be abandoned, leaving the troops to walk. They were under constant bombardment from the Panzer divisions driving them towards the French coastline and the barrier of the sea. On top of that, they were being attacked from the air by waves of strafing from the Luftwaffe. Every time they were forced to take cover off the road, Tilly looked up and thought of Ronnie. Was he up there somewhere helping them towards their escape, guiding them home to England and the safety of English shores?
The officers were under instructions to get as many men to the beaches as they were able to move and to wait for an evacuation procedure to begin. By the time they arrived at the beaches near Dunkirk, they had been on the road for severaldays and everyone was exhausted, covered in filthy dust and lacking food and water. There was not one completely fit and healthy person standing. Tilly, Fliss and the rest of the medical team did their best to get as many soldiers to their destination as possible, but they were forced to leave many bodies at the side of the road. It pained Tilly to leave them there. She could see the faces of the families back home, waiting for them, praying they would return. News of an evacuation would have filled their hearts with hope. For some that would be a false hope.
The road toDunkirkwas littered with cast-off equipment. Army vehicles lay broken in the dirt, their burnt-out carcasses smoking, cascading ashes into the wind, ashes that landed on the faces of the fleeing troops. The air filled with a burning smog that seared the lungs and stung the eyes. They all blundered on through the mayhem towards . . . towards what? The sight of all these valuable but abandoned military pieces of equipment did nothing to improve morale. They told the story of an army routed and defeated.
As the Royals entered Dunkirk, Tilly was horrified to see that the whole town was in flames. Huge craters peppered the road and tramlines protruded like twisted limbs from the scorched earth. The smell of rotting flesh and burning bodies filled Tilly’s nostrils and made her retch like no scene on the operating table had ever done.
When Tilly asked a local woman, ‘Ou sont les batteaux,madame?’ she was met with a look of disgust.
The woman spat on the ground and replied, ‘Feelthy English pigs.’ She clearly felt abandoned by the retreating English army. Tilly tried to understand this reaction but couldn’t see what else they could be expected to do, trapped as they were. Sacrificing themselves on the altar of false heroism was hardly going to help the French, merely provide more dead bodies.
When they finally reached the beaches, Tilly was speechless at the sight before her. Troops had clearly been arriving for days and their battalion was at the rear of the arrivals. Thousands of men and the litter that accompanied them, covered the beaches as far as the eye could see. Many of them were trying to get to the mole, two concrete defence jetties that would be the mooring and evacuation point for the ships taking them home to England. The only problem was that there were no rescue boats anywhere to be seen. How could all these men possibly be transported across the Channel? There just wouldn’t be enough ships. It seemed an impossible task.
