"Around us the big bullets were flying and ricocheting making a hellish noise ...I was just helping a neighbour's wife with her pram and baby in it to get them quickly downstairs. We just reached the little cellar in time. That was our first baptism of fire.
The quickness of events suddenly gave me the wish to be in Canada with my youngest Uncle Gerrard...How nice for them they would miss the fireworks, maybe some day I would tell them about it. Similar stories, maybe like my Father and Uncle Louis, both veterans of the last war who both won their laurels and Yzer-Cross decorations. What the hell, all over again! In retrospect it was like a picture in slow motion of the same power continuing the last war.
Our studies in High school had abruptly ended, welcomed by most students like a vacation and some even sung patriotic songs to the announcement of the ultimatum, so moving it always is that it brought tears to our eyes. I also felt sorry for all people especially the mothers, when I jumped on my bike that memorable day and sped homeward.
I was disappointed by the sight of some of our weapons passing by and moving towards the front. It looked more like old museum pieces than anything else, actually it was! That with our bi-planes dropping out of the sky just before, or flying into the target practice bags because of lack of manouverability was just enough to give us the worst hopes of what was in store to tackle the fast and agile Messerschmit.
My mother was of the same thought and had a foreboding of pending disaster So, when the witan or gathering of elders came together she had a plan in mind. At the gathering, my mother convinced them all that it was better to take the way along to Dunkirk, if possible, to the Panne and then to London, the safer road by a long shot.
One of the reasons for her suggestion was the recent broadcast on the Belgian Radio, announced by this hour of emergency, that all young men of army age should keep themselves ready and proceed to the nearest point at Dunkirk to be able to make a last ditch stand. So they would stay with me as my mother meant.
When we were ready, the picture we made was a bit theatrical, our best clothes and those bright woollen blankets around our shoulders, big cases with our belongings, I started to hate carrying baggage ever since for holidays: saying goodbye to the old friendly house and giving the key to our neighbours who were better know for actual piracy than anything else. I saw them just smiling behind that mask of delightful sincerity but on the other hand knowing, very well, the fierce temper of my grandmother if and when she would come back...and sooner or later they would have that to contend with, so that made for a reasonable balance in this barter, ...
Arriving early morning at the quay to take the coastal train we were amazed at the devastation caused by mines and explosions from the evening before. The train was like a long electrical tram with carriages taking us as far as De Panne, La Panne as the French call it, near the border. The Ostend fleet had mostly left loaded to the brim with their own crews and families.
Melancholy descended over us as we said goodbye to most people we knew.
Covered by those big yellow blankets, the planes were busy following us - coming from miles beyond the eastern horizon.
To be continued ...
The quickness of events suddenly gave me the wish to be in Canada with my youngest Uncle Gerrard...How nice for them they would miss the fireworks, maybe some day I would tell them about it. Similar stories, maybe like my Father and Uncle Louis, both veterans of the last war who both won their laurels and Yzer-Cross decorations. What the hell, all over again! In retrospect it was like a picture in slow motion of the same power continuing the last war.
Our studies in High school had abruptly ended, welcomed by most students like a vacation and some even sung patriotic songs to the announcement of the ultimatum, so moving it always is that it brought tears to our eyes. I also felt sorry for all people especially the mothers, when I jumped on my bike that memorable day and sped homeward.
I was disappointed by the sight of some of our weapons passing by and moving towards the front. It looked more like old museum pieces than anything else, actually it was! That with our bi-planes dropping out of the sky just before, or flying into the target practice bags because of lack of manouverability was just enough to give us the worst hopes of what was in store to tackle the fast and agile Messerschmit.
My mother was of the same thought and had a foreboding of pending disaster So, when the witan or gathering of elders came together she had a plan in mind. At the gathering, my mother convinced them all that it was better to take the way along to Dunkirk, if possible, to the Panne and then to London, the safer road by a long shot.
One of the reasons for her suggestion was the recent broadcast on the Belgian Radio, announced by this hour of emergency, that all young men of army age should keep themselves ready and proceed to the nearest point at Dunkirk to be able to make a last ditch stand. So they would stay with me as my mother meant.
When we were ready, the picture we made was a bit theatrical, our best clothes and those bright woollen blankets around our shoulders, big cases with our belongings, I started to hate carrying baggage ever since for holidays: saying goodbye to the old friendly house and giving the key to our neighbours who were better know for actual piracy than anything else. I saw them just smiling behind that mask of delightful sincerity but on the other hand knowing, very well, the fierce temper of my grandmother if and when she would come back...and sooner or later they would have that to contend with, so that made for a reasonable balance in this barter, ...
Arriving early morning at the quay to take the coastal train we were amazed at the devastation caused by mines and explosions from the evening before. The train was like a long electrical tram with carriages taking us as far as De Panne, La Panne as the French call it, near the border. The Ostend fleet had mostly left loaded to the brim with their own crews and families.
Melancholy descended over us as we said goodbye to most people we knew.
Covered by those big yellow blankets, the planes were busy following us - coming from miles beyond the eastern horizon.
To be continued ...
