The last of the four destroyers in line when they left Dover, HMS Brilliant was the first to break away; when abreast of Flushing she turned to starboard and entered the River Scheldt, pushing on upstream with the intention of getting as close to Antwerp as possible. The demolition party consisted of Second Lieutenant ‘Shorty’ Wells, one of the newly joined young officers from OCTU, in command of about sixteen men. The passage was strange as they passed craft of every description, all moving seawards in the hope of escaping damage or capture by the threatening hordes outside the city. Liners, tugs, large freighters, launches, tankers and the ubiquitous tramp steamers, their decks often tightly packed with refugees, were all making their way down to the sea, and freedom.
The destroyer, with the naval and sapper demolition parties on board, threaded her way through this avalanche of miscellaneous craft, round the bends of the Scheldt and right up to Antwerp, the one large and flourishing port of Belgium. The town itself, lying on the east side of the river, which flows north – south at that point, spreads out to form an imposing skyline with the cathedral towers prominent among the many fine buildings and wide expanse of humbler dwellings. For some miles the waterfront is flanked with docks, shipyards, offices, factories and all the evidence of a highly industrious people and thriving commercial enterprise. Ships from the Seven Seas were lying in the approaches to this busy port.
The destroyer anchored in the river, just off the pilots’ headquarters at the seaward end of the docks. The senior officers went ashore to visit the British Consul, whose offices were literally besieged with all classes of people desperate to secure passage to England. Belgian wives of Englishmen gesticulated at the harassed clerks, while their daughters wept as if to add poignancy to their mothers’ appeal. Businessmen pressed their claim with a vigour and persuasiveness acquired in the hard school of commerce. At one side stood a tall and dignified white-haired old lady waiting for an interview with one of those overworked young officials. She was clearly English and amidst the entire hubbub had an air of quiet composure.
The naval and sapper demolition parties remained on board Brilliant in Antwerp for forty-eight hours, while the Naval Commander in charge, tried to negotiate for the two parties to be allowed to at least make a reconnaissance of their objectives. They were disembarked onto two tugs, one carrying naval personnel and the other the sappers. Brilliant then took on about eighty consular staff and others and sailed for home.
On all these operations it was laid down by the naval authorities that the ‘Safety of HM ships was of paramount importance’. Thus not only was the expedition expected to cope with the situation ashore and carry out their task, but also had to make their own way home without naval assistance. All were trained to act on their own initiative if separated or marooned and during the course of these operations they developed quite a remarkable homing instinct, so much so, that they invariably returned safely. One never quite knew when or how they would get back, but after some days they would report back to the unit’s depot with as little concern as if returning from leave. This homing instinct, once developed, is largely a matter of common sense plus determination, and the British soldier has frequently demonstrated his ability to get back, in the face of heavy odds and in spite of the efforts of the Germans to prevent it.
Air raids became fairly frequent. One unlucky ship packed with refugees received a direct hit and had to be beached to allow some of the unfortunates to get ashore. As the tugs steamed across the river, they passed the city on the port side, and the Tête de Flandre on the other side on which stands one of those old forts, part of a ring of defences round the city. Standing like a ghost of some former military genius, it seemed to bear testimony to man’s determination to safeguard his possessions against spoliation. With their bastion defences, ravelins, counter guards and retrenchments, these old forts remain an historical monument to those days in the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, when the great French engineer Vauban revolutionized defensive fortifications.
That Antwerp was so fortified is not surprising, for it was here in Flanders and Northern France where Vauban developed his system. These forts, well suited to the weapons of their day with their exact geometrical outline, offered little resistance against modern methods of assault despite efforts to modernize them and equip them with increased fire power and high angle guns.
The Naval Commander and the two demolition parties arrived safely on the north bank of the river and here they remained for five days. The Naval Commander was quite unable to negotiate permission for even a reconnaissance to be carried out. During this time the city and port were subject to endless air raids causing confusion and rumour about the extent of the German advance. Although both parties were virtually confined to their tugs, some were, for lack of space, allowed to sleep ashore in a bombed out building near to where the tugs were berthed.
The few Belgium civilians with whom our chaps had dealings were invariably friendly, but they had a much more realistic view of the impending disaster of invasion than the Dutch had shown. This is not surprising when one recalls that, in 1914, the Dutch had preserved their neutrality while Belgium had suffered invasion with all its attendant horrors and cruelties. She had seen her cities laid waste, churches desecrated, countryside pillaged and the population tortured during the long weary years of the First World War, and now, weakened with internal dissension, Belgium was facing the same grim ordeal again. Her leaders had broken away from what they thought to be entanglements with former Allies, and had emphasized their neutrality, in the vain hope of avoiding exactly what was now taking place again. The defensive role played by her army, while brave enough, was insufficiently prepared. Such help as her former Allies could give in those critical days was too late and almost entirely ineffective. One after another of her cities fell to the mechanized might of a highly organized and premeditated attack.
The German blitzkrieg tactics of puncturing the enemy with a deep and concentrated thrust or spearhead (scherpunkt) and then the widening of the gap (aufrollen) into a dangerous bulge and finally a corridor, made invasion an easy task against the unprepared Belgians. They fought stubbornly in places and held ground long enough to delay the advance here and there, but the reports which came through all told the same ominous story – Belgium was being overrun.
It was not long before the tide reached Antwerp. Constant air attack, with all its confusion and suffering, wrought havoc upon the morale of the fleeing civilians, hordes of refugees and withdrawing Belgium troops. The invasion had acquired a momentum and weight, which only equal weight and an organized defence could halt.
The Belgians were conscious of the fact that they were even less well situated than they had been in 1914 and that their national policy towards Germany had let them down; but now it was too late. After a couple of days of air raids, with all manner of alarms and rumours, it became fairly obvious that the end was not far off. Large numbers of civilians had left the city, all ordinary life had come to a standstill and the heavy gunfire from the advancing Germans was already raining down on the suburbs. Shopkeepers had either sold out of food or their stocks had been looted. During this time the more adventurous helped themselves to any cars that were left in the town and set out towards France.
After several false starts through orders being countermanded by the Belgians, the sappers were at last reluctantly given permission for the demolition to be carried out. Some thousands of tons of fuel and lubricating oil were run out on the flat ground around the plants and subsequently into the river. While this operation was at its height, oil was flowing several feet deep and swept all before it on its way to the river. Some thousands of steel drums were also emptied before the task was completed. By this time the Germans were already occupying part of the town. However, the sappers then joined up with the Navy in their secondary role of destroying the port facilities. This they did to the best of their ability given the time available and the resources at their disposal.
Four French army lorries had been held, also under guard, on the west bank at a little place called Burght. Just as the Royal Engineer party were making their final withdrawal to that side, the naval contingent from Antwerp turned up. In spite of the Huns and the general racket from an air raid in progress at the time, this meeting raised a cheer that must have been heard in Brussels.
In a short space of time, the whole lot packed themselves into those four lorries, all too tired to stand or even sit. They just slumped onto the floor, squeezed together like sardines and set off towards the coast. They planned to go through Ghent and Bruges to Ostend where they might find a vessel. Failing that, they thought they could work their way down the coast towards one of the French channel ports. As it was getting dark when they left and the French drivers were not sure of the way, it was doubtful if they would succeed. To get an idea of the journey, one must picture all roads, large and small, packed with escaping civilians trudging along on foot, or cycling, with others riding in vehicles of every description. These poor, desperate and hungry folk were moving towards France, or the coast, to escape the vengeance of the enemy. Many had been on the move for several days, and as food could not be bought from the empty or looted shops, their plight was pitiful. Periodically, planes would dive low over the columns and machine-gun them at crossroads, jamming the route with dead and dying. After 9 p.m. the refugees were forbidden to remain on the roads and were compelled to take to the neighbouring fields until daylight. During the night the roads were equally packed, but with troop movements; infantry, horse-drawn wagons and guns, mechanized units and ambulance convoys, all jostled in that hectic withdrawal. The refugees at the side of the roads would cry out to the passing troops to throw them food. At intervals, a plane would fly over and drop a flare to be followed a few seconds later by bombers seeking out troop concentrations. They did not have to look far, more or less any stretch of road gave them a tempting target.
Their four trucks rumbled on through the night making slow progress. They were stopped frequently for identity checks. This gave rise to painful negotiations at times, as the French drivers wisely refused to be implicated in the madness of the passengers and disclaimed all knowledge of the party or their destination. The suspicions of the police were, under the circumstances, justifiable, since to be quite fair, it must be admitted that the sleeping men inside the wagons did not respond to enquiries when roughly roused to semi-consciousness. When asked ‘Where are you going?’ they usually shouted something like ‘Blighty’. This happened repeatedly as they struggled on through the night. At times the leading driver would stop and ask the way; then suspicions would be aroused and the same wretched business would start all over again. At other times a German air-attack would bring the column to an abrupt halt.
It remained at a standstill until the maimed men or stricken vehicles were dragged off the road and then they would go on again until the next stop. Inside the lorry the exhausted men slept as if drugged, packed on the floor, man to man; as one of the men said, ‘Like ruddy carcasses from Smithfield’. Just before daybreak they arrived at Ostend only to find the port abandoned and not a ship in sight. They had no alternative but to carry on down the coast to Dunkirk before they could hope to get a passage to England. The expedition eventually managed to board a train ferry at Dunkirk just before the vessel put to sea. On board they were given food, and after a wash, began to find their feet again. Their tongues began to wag, the sailors and sappers swapping the experiences of the last few days on their respective jobs. All recalled how, in the first few days a sapper had kept them supplied with pigeons, when food was difficult to obtain. He climbed on to a roof overlooking a tower where the birds roosted and with the skilful use of his catapult and much patience kept the pot full. By common consent, this was an outstanding performance and would have been even better but for the air raids which scared off the pigeons.
They arrived in Dover the same afternoon and made their way back to the unit at Gravesend. The moment they had ‘fallen out’ on the parade ground, they asked ‘are the Dutch crowd back? We saw their destroyers bombed just before we split up!’
But they had all come back, so it was a happy day in barracks.