“Never have I seen a more comforting sight, than that of the White Cliffs of Dover in the late afternoon sun. What a relief to be back home.”
The words of Wally Jenner, who served throughout the Second World War with the 4th Battalion Queens Own Royal West Kent Regiment. Wally grew up in Edenbridge but was living in Folkestone when I met him.
He was following a family tradition when he enlisted with the RWKs in 1938. His father, Edgar, had been wounded by sniper fire while serving with the regiment during the First World War and three of his uncles had also signed up with them.
Having learned shorthand and typing, Wally was set to be a company clerk but spent more time with a rifle than a typewriter. He was 19 when he boarded an Isle of Mann ferry bound for Cherbourg on April 5, 1940.
From there, the Battalion marched up towards the Belgian border, covering 75 miles in three days. “The only respite was at Lille, where we were entertained by the comedian Will Hay,” he said.
Eventually they reached the Flemish town of Oudenaarde, on the River Schelde. “I was helping to man defensive positions around our HQ in a chateau,” he said. “A few shells were being hurled at us, and enemy patrols could be seen on the far side of the river.
“Eventually they succeeded in getting across. It was somewhat scary for a young man experiencing an angry war for the first time. We all stood our ground until late in the evening when orders were given for the Battalion to move back 20 miles.
“Everyone was exhausted and got what rest they could, before being ordered to move back again towards Lille. We spent that night in an old brickfield. Everyone was hungry but someone found a pig which was turned into a stew.
“A pal of mine, Eddie Mitchell, was in a very bad way and I gave him my gas cape and some food. He was later taken prisoner and said the cape was the only thing he had to keep him warm during the long march into Poland.
“We were ordered to fall back again, and to hold a defensive position along the canal in the Forest of Nieppe. There was no news, but there were rumours that Calaise had fallen and the Belgian army on our flank had capitulated. We were in dire trouble.
“On May 28th we had orders to disengage and head westwards. There was no organisation. The roads were cluttered with everything from horses and carts to abandoned military vehicles. I still hadn’t realised the whole BEF was pulling out. I thought it was just us, and that we were being moved up the coast to carry on fighting.
“At one point I came across a couple of soldiers working on an ambulance, which they got going. They gave me a lift. It was against the rules for uninjured servicemen to travel in ambulances, but I reckoned that as the driver was a sergeant and the other man was a corporal, and I was just a private, it would be okay. But I was later turfed out by an officer of the medical corps.”
Wally continued the trudge towards the coast, just following the man in front of him. He recalled passing through the town of Bailleul, which was still burning from a recent bombing raid. He skirted the town of Poperinge, which was also burning. Still, he had no idea of how serious matters were. Dawn arrived and so did the Stuka dive bombers, causing devastation to soldiers and refugees alike. “Jumping for cover in and out of ditches became very repetitive,” he said.
Something he never forgot was the sight of two French soldiers who had been decapitated – blown up spiking their own gun.
At last dense plumes of black smoke, from blazing oil tanks, announced he was on the outskirts of Dunkirk. He was amazed to discover, sitting beside the road, two officers from his former rifle company, both of whom were very much worse for wear from drink.
“Eventually I reached the sand dunes overlooking the beaches,” he said. “Spread before me were countless soldiers, but no sign of any rescue craft. I lay down and spent the night in the protection of the dunes. Sleep came easily and I did not rouse until daybreak.”
Wally decided to join one of the columns of men waiting for the rescue boats, eventually wading up to his waist in water. But still no boats came. He decided he was never going to get off the beach that way.
In the distance he could see the old wooden jetty or mole. “Sure enough, I eventually saw a destroyer, HMS Wolsey, slowly nosing its way in and I headed in that direction,” he said. “A young naval officer came off the jetty. Here was someone with the intent of creating order.
“He organised the men into groups of 50 or 60 in columns four abreast. Each group was well spaced out, to make them less vulnerable to attacking aircraft. My column edged forward. Stretcher cases were being given priority, and I volunteered to become a stretcher bearer.
“The man I was helping to carry, who had been severely injured in the face around the eyes, was manhandled on board the Wolsey, and I soon crossed the wide gap between the jetty and the ship. I could not believe it when a sailor told me we could be back in England in an hour. I still thought we were being taken down the coast to carry on fighting.
“My first scare came when the Wolsey’s guns took issue with an enemy aircraft. I was squatting under a gun platform and the noise was shattering. The heavily laden destroyer nudged out into the sea, and our crossing proved uneventful.”
Back in Dover, Wally was helped ashore, still clutching his rifle, and directed towards a troop train. The train stopped briefly at Paddock Wood, where ladies proffered tea in tins from a local canning factory. They also handed out doorstep sized sandwiches which the starving soldiers grabbed hungrily.
Wally then fell asleep even as the train passed through his hometown of Edenbridge. He woke at Tidworth barracks where the Guards had prepared comfortable beds, showers and other amenities. He was allowed to sleep right through the next day undisturbed.
“I was back from Dunkirk, but I had seen nothing of the armada of little ships you hear so much about,” he said. “The Royal Navy had rescued me, and I shall never forget the officer who brought order to chaos on the approaches to the jetty where I had boarded HMS Wolsey.”