The Fall of the Low Countries.

On the 10th of May, after the Norway failure, Chamberlain resigned. Clearly, discussion has been intense behind the scenes and Winston Churchill was rapidly installed. Some had thought Halifax - seen as a peacemaker - would have ended the war. Churchill was a signal to the nation, and the world, that this is just the start. That same day, we invaded Iceland, a peaceful occupation to prevent the Germans from taking it and interfering with our supply lines.

Through the days of the Norway debate, it was clear that tension was rising on the German frontier with France and the Low Countries. The Royal Family of Luxembourg evacuated to France and Belgium put her forces on alert, even as the fighting was still continuing around Narvik in Norway. Every radio broadcast I listened to, every newspaper I grabbed, I was trying to scrabble together more detail. My wife asked me again and again if I thought that her parents in Belgium would be alright. I feel ashamed to admit it now but I was excited, thrilled at the fact that a war that had been without real incident for us until the debacle in Norway, seemed finally to be moving into it's 'main act'. The British army had had time to prepare, the French army was huge and had the prepared defences of the Maginot Line.

The Maginot Line

On the very day that Churchill became Prime Minister, 10th May, the Germans struck, and were seemingly everywhere. At dawn, they rolled into France, Belgium and the Netherlands, attacking in Zeeland and around Rotterdam, Fort Eben Emael in Belgium, The Hague and Maastrict. Luxembourg had fallen by the end of the day.

There were confused reports throughout the 11th, if they were to be believed, the Germans were winning everywhere and advancing at speed. Myself and the girls plotted everything we heard on maps I had ordered through the post during the quite of January and February. Only the Dutch seemed to offer any good news, beating back the Germans around The Hague. The German army was tearing through the 'neutrals' who's neutrality had not done them any good when their turn had come. Then, on the 12th, the Germans attacked at Sedan in France, clearly trying to gain a crossing of the Meuse.

By the 13th the Dutch were folding, their queen evacuating to London, scuttling their Navy on the 14th. They surrendered at a quarter past ten in the morning on the 15th. Through that day we heard that Rotterdam had been heavily bombed, and that Sedan had fallen.

The next few days were a blur of place names on maps, a strange mix of dread and excitement. We had no world from my wife's family, expected none. She had a relative in the Belgian army and I could only wonder at what he was going through. Her home, near Ypres, was close to the French border, but the speed of the German advance seemed to make that almost irrelevant. Brussels fell on the 17th, and Antwerp the day after. It was obvious that the Germans were swinging towards the coast.

I had a huge row with a neighbour who said it looked like it was all finished, and the French would be next. Churchill had broadcast, saying that the French army had not yet really been engaged. My neighbour had fought, like me, in the last war. I had been in Greece, mostly, fighting the Austrians, my Neighbour had been on the Somme. When I repeated what Churchill had said he laughed and said the French were useless bastards, and I'd see if he wasn't right - after all, he'd served next to them.

Broadcast: Churchill's first speech as Prime Minister.

French tank surrenders to the Germans

There was more confusion over the next few days - were we retreating to the coast or not?  We were attacking at Arras, but then we pulled back. By the 22nd the Germans were around Calais and Bologne, cutting off our army in Belgium and Northern France. All the while, fighting in Belgium continued, Ghent and Tournai falling on the 24th. Incredibly, almost forgotten, there were troops still fighting on in Norway.

Bologne went on the 25th, the B.E.F. now pinned in and around Dunkirk - we had been there once, on one of our trips to see my wife's family, and to visit the War Graves. It was a strange evening, and I think my wife had realised for the first time that what was happening was a true disaster, and admitted she had stopped listening to the radio news some days before. We dragged out some of the postcards I had collected, villages, cemeteries, one, Lijssenthoek, where her father had planted the trees.  She cried, and I put the postcards away.

News Reel: Troops and refugees in Louvain, Belgium, 1940

Newspaper Map, 20th May 1940

On the 28th King Leopold of Belgium announced his country's unconditional surrender. On the 29th of May Ostend, Lille, and most painfully of all Ypres, were all taken by the Germans. We had to explain to the girls that we had no idea what had happened to their grandparents, or their aunts and uncles. It was another day of tears, made worse by being surrounded by people for whom the war still felt distant, almost impersonal.

With my wife's home and quite possibly her family, now under German control, it feels very close to us indeed.

   

The Collapse of Scandinavia - April 1940

So the quietness ended. After so long waiting, wondering, us and the Germans tilting at each other across the channel, the world exploded and the war is on our door step. In the early hours of the 9th of April the Germans gave the Dutch and Norwegians an ultimatum - accept German 'protection' or be invaded. The Dutch - what choice did they have? - surrendered to save lives, and their country was in German hands within six hours.

Disaster in Norway

The Norwegians, perhaps with the example of the Finns fresh in their minds, decided to fight on. All through that first day there was broken news of Allied and German landings, German ships and allied ships lost, one a German heavy cruiser, taken out by Norwegian shore guns.

News Reel: Invasion of Scandinavia

10th and 11th April bought more of the same. Telegraphic bulletins, the German cruiser Konigsberg knocked out by British dive bombers, two British submarines sunk by the Germans, King Haakon in hiding in the mountains. The Danish territory of Iceland declared independence, and the Danish Faroe islands were occupied by us.

On April 19th after landings, bombardments, skirmishes, our troops and German troops engaged for the first time in the war at Verdal. By the 22nd our troops were retreating back to Trondheim and then Namsos By the 26th our position in Norway was clearly disastrous, the Luftwaffe striking at will, with total command of their air. By the 29th our troops were being evacuated and it was clear that Norway is being taken by the Germans with ease.

By the 3rd May our evacuation was complete, and all that remained was to hear the broken snatches of a nation in it's final agonies of defeat, men fighting on with no hope of victory or help. We mounted a botched attempt to recapture Narvik, and the fall of Andalsnes, Trondheim, the Hegra Fortress were each a little triumph of pointless resistance and a crushing of that spirit place by place, mile by mile.

The Norway Debate

Then there was Westminster - another world. The 'Norway Debate' rumbled on, the MP Leo Amery reported as saying to the PM 'You have sat here too long for any good you have been doing. Depart, I say, and let us have done with you. In the name of God, go!'

The Prime Minister survived a vote of no confidence but so narrowly that by the evening of the 10th of May he had resigned.

One of my daughters asked if the Germans could come here. They were looking at a map, crossing off the countries that the Germans have conquered and looking at how much of our coast now faces German held territory. I said no - and confidently. We are a different nation, the sea is wide, the Navy is strong. When they had gone to bed my wife looked at me and told me I was lying. Of course I am lying, to the girls, to my wife, to myself. The Germans have stormed Poland and Scandinavia, sunk more of our ships than I care to think, and our Generals are an embarrassment. Belgium and France are waiting for the war to turn to them, and my wife's family live in Ypres - her Father works on the War Graves. What else is there to do but lie? 

Looking to Spring - 1940

February and March were almost as quite as January - unless you we Finnish. The Soviets finally breached the Mannerheim Line during the Battle of Summa and then attacked the city of Viipuri. By the 10th of March Viipuri was lost, and by the 12th the Finns had conceded 16,000 square miles in exchange of peace. Britain and France would have intervened, but were blocked by Norway and Sweden from doing so.

The Royal Navy intercepted a German ship, the Altmark in Norwegian waters, releasing hundreds of British prisoners - the Norwegians protested, as they are Neutral, and the Germans described the action as piracy. The navy also stopped an Italian convoy laden with coal bought from Germany.

The odd U boat sunk, a liner sent to the bottom of the English Channel. They mounted an air-raid on our Home Fleet base at Scapa Flow, we raided their seaplane bases at Sylt and Hornum.The first German aircraft of the war was shot down over Whitby - a Heinkel-111. This was particularly bitter - we travel to Whitby every year for a family holiday, and have done since the girls were small. Perhaps the first real impact on us as a family was the realisation that a holiday booked with the land lady when we left last year is just not on under the current circumstances.

Whitby holiday snap - just last year, but it seems a world away.

Just posturing, until Churchill's speech on Neutral States. He said that they could not be blamed, but by balking at war and by bowing the German demands for material, they would extend the war and that it not in the interests of Britain or the 'common good' for their strength to be added to that of the enemy. I met a friend of mine for lunch in Norwich, a man I used to work with, and we talked about almost nothing but that speech. It can mean almost nothing but that we are prepared to act against neutral countries.

As we left, I saw the woman who ran the tea shop staring at us, and looking meaningfully at a poster she had just pinned to the wall. 'Careless talk costs lives' it said. As we walked away, I was in two minds. Did she have a point, or was she just an interfering busy body enjoying a moment of supposed moral superiority? Probably the later, but I couldn't shake myself of the uneasy feeling that she might have been right. Strange how these situations bring out other the best and worst in people, and how hard it can be to tell them apart.

Then, on the 4th of April, came a fantastic speech by the Prime Minister that lifted my spirits. Hitler has 'missed the bus'. We brought enough time to catch up in terms of war material and the Empire is mobilising fast. But given Churchill's speech, this can only mean the the behind the scenes the neutrals are not so neutral and that Europe will stand together. Feels like spring, and I've promised the family that we'll make Whitby next year.

Coverage of the speech.

Newspaper reaction to 'Hitler has missed the bus'.

The strange dead January of 1940

The start of the year has been a strange. The Soviets have pushed at the Finns again, and again been defeated, loosing multiple divisions. On the 28th, numbers of Soviet troops were forced to surrender around Lake Ladoga. A German plane containing plans for the invasion of the low countries crashed in Belgium, which has roused those smaller, vulnerable nations, to our benefit I suspect. There have been ships lost, but U-boats sunk in return. The war has stalled.

Convalescence

By far the worst has been the weather. On the 17th of January the temperature fell and the Thames has actually frozen - for the first time since 1888, according to the paper. Lucky we have a full coal bunker, through we've been sparring with it, only heating the living room. A tree has come down in the garden, which I will split up and season, so at least we should be alright next year.

Then there is the vexed subject of teeth. I went to the dentist just before Christmas with a wobbly tooth, and have ended up with two extractions, and some more painful procedures all of which have left me weak, more than a little dizzy, and almost disinterested in the news. We took advantage of a chance to get up to the beach hut, but it was so cold we could only manage a couple of hours. There is barbed wire along parts of the beech now at Hunstanton, which wasn't there before, though I find it hard to image why the Germans would attack 'Time and Tide'.

December 1939

Finland has achieved something little short of a miracle. Details are sketchy, but the Soviets seem to have underestimated the harsh winter conditions, and despite all odds the Finns have held them. By the 5th December the Soviets had reached the Mannerheim Line - prepared defences using all of natures advantages, After a few weeks hard fighting, the Soviets halted, their offensive finally halted at Kelja and Taipale on the 27th. The map of Finland that I ordered from Stamfords arrived for me to point out to the family where the fighting had just ended.

I don't usually sleep well, and in the early hours of the 18th a distant drone woke me. I wasn't sure what it was, but it came from the west. It was only in the newspapers over the next few days that I realised must have been RAF bombers taking off from the airbase at Mildenhall, down across the Suffolk border. They raided a German port that night, but the press weren't really clear with what result.

Graf Spee showing battle damage whilst in Montevideo - public domain

The biggest event of the month, though, has to be the Graf Spee. Cornered on the 13th of December by the cruisers Ajax, Exeter and Achillies a great naval engagement off the South American coast. The Exeter, it seems, was very badly damaged, but the Graf Spee retreated into Montevideo. Uruguay is neutral of course, and the German battleship was forced to leave on the 17th, and the German captain, Langsdorff, scuttled his ship in the River Plate.

After a steady stream of ships lost, this felt like a message to the world, and faith in the navy has certainly been restored amongst my drinking friends in the White Hart.

News Reel: Graf Spee scuttled!

All through the month help has started to arrive. An Australian fighter squadron and the first Canadian troops have arrived. In contrast, the Americans have underlined their neutrality, and even complained about us seizing German goods on neutral shipping.

News Reel: President Roosevelt stresses American Neutrality

On the whole, though, we enter 1940 in good spirits, except that rationing, neusacnce value until now, will bit a little more in the new year and is extended to butter, bacon, ham and sugar. Never really that fond of bacon anyway.

Naval Losses - October to December 1939

The U-boats are out and prowling, though two were taken out in the middle of October. One was got on the 8th off Dover, and two on the 13th, one taken out by destroyers south west of Ireland, the other by a mine in the English Channel. German pocket battleships are also at sea, raiders hunting for merchant ships. The Admiral Graff Spee has sank a merchant man off Brazil, and an Anglo-French task force was sent to hunt her down.

Radio Broadcast: Churchill Speaks from the Admiralty, 1st October

HMS Royal Oak

The 14th October saw the loss of the Royal Oak. It seems a U-Boat slipped into the moorings at Scappa Flow, and took out the battleship with ease. After the loss of the Courageous last month, this is a real blow. The mood in the pub has sunk - we all know the Navy is our strongest service, and it doesn't seem to be delivering what we expected from it. To add to things the roll call of merchants sunk by the Graff Spee in particular just keeps growing. The atmosphere in the White Hart was so gloomy I drank up and left.

News Reel: Royal Oak Sunk

Hitler talked peace on the 6th, and we and the French rejected that the same day, but the fighting still seems half-hearted, despite our loss of ships - it feels like things have stalled. A german bomber was shot down by the RAF on the 16th, and all men between 20 and 23 were registered for national service.

Then there was another U-boat attack - another battleship, HMS Nelson, hit by three torpedoes. None exploded, but there is no disguising that it was only luck. Late in November the German raiders made themselves felt again, the armed merchant HMS Rawalpindi caught by the German battle ships Sharnhorst and Gneisenau was sunk with ease.

Then on the 4th of December, in a bitter twist, HMS Nelson struck a mine. She survived, but is badly damaged and laid up for repairs. Just today, the 7th December, we have heard that the Graff Spee sank the merchant man Streonshalh. There was hardly anyone in the pub, and I didn't even bother stopping for a drink.

All the while the BEF is being built up, complete with royal visit. I only hope they do better than the Navy when the Germans really start. The Finns are not so lucky, though. The Russians invaded on the 30th November without even the pretence of a declaration of war. Feels like another Poland. Poor bloody sods.

News Reel: King with the BEF
News Reel: Finnish Minister on the invasion

A month of war - September 1939

Polish Soldier 1939 - Public Domain via Wikipedia Commons

It has been a strange, uneasy time - at war, but what war? A pause for us all to think, sort ourselves out, with vicious fighting, but distant. Like a song heard from a long way away when you recognise the tune, but cannot make out the words. So far away that you can forget. I sat in the cinema last week, watched news reels, then a film - Rathbone, Hound of the Baskervilles. I'm ashamed to say it was good - so much so that the war slipped from my mind for over an hour. Then the news reel started again. The upbeat announcers, film of young, harried looking soldiers landing in France. Most of the news is grim, if not for us than for those in the firing line.

News Reel: BEF lands in France

Poland. Poor, poor Poland. Smashed by the Germans and the Russians. Conquered and portioned out in just weeks. That was how September was - a roll call of Polish defeats. Pszczyna, Tuchola, Krakow fallen by the 6th. The German Army was at the edge of Warsaw two days later. A siege, like something from the last war, but with aircraft this time too, bombing of a city like the Germans did in Spain. Whole parts of the Polish capital destroyed. Swift, terrifyingly decisive, but the Poles clung on, fighting like rats in the rubble. It was only on the 28th that Warsaw surrendered. With a Polish government in exile in Paris by the 30th, and the last resistance crumbling by the 5th of October, the Soviets rolling up town after town in their turn, you might well ask what we, the British and French, did?

News Reel: German Invasion of Poland

Hitler reviewing troops crossing into Poland.
Bundesarchiv, Bild 183-S55480 / CC-BY-SA 3.0 [CC BY-SA 3.0 de (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/de/deed.en)]

We sat in fairyland while the country we had pledged to defend has simply been wiped off the map. the first week of our war was spent on paper work - the Dominions deciding, one by one to declare war in turn. Australia, on the same day as we ourselves declared war, then Newzealand, then Canada. In South Africa the government even proposed neutrality - though they were defeated and fell as a result. The new government are in for the fight now. Welcome, of course, but the cities of Poland were burning all the time. The RAF bombed a few German ports ineffectually, and showered the Ruhr with leaflets. The French at least prepared an attack into Germany's Saarland, but halted when Polish resistance seemed to be collapsing.

The SS Athenia was the first victim of the U-boats, back on the 3rd September. It was big news, but seems small, and a long time ago. On the 14th September there was much newspaper talk, speculation, confident assertion in the White Hart in Hingham - the Royal Navy is more than the equal of the Kriegsmarine - Ark Royal was attacked, again by a submarine, off Rockall. Their U-boats are clearly at sea, everywhere they can reach, but the torpedoes missed. All that casual optimism was blown away, just days later. The carrier Courageous went down on the 17th - off Ireland. A carrier sunk in practically home waters. A U-boat who's torpedoes found their mark this time. That relegated new fighting in China to a few column inches at the bottom of the newspaper front page. On the 20th the Navy got a U-boat - revenge of sorts I suppose. The talk is all of the navy getting into its stride, clearing the sea.

News Reel: Sinking of HMS Courageous

Ridiculous. We made commitments to Poland, we failed. The Far East is at war. At home our newspapers are counting the fighting in a plane or two here, a ship, or a submarine. All the while the British Army has been crossing to France to form another 'western front' like the last time.

It is over for Poland. The agony in China is years old. For us it hasn't even begun. We are at war, and we have to put our heart and soul into it, get it done. Yet everything we have done so far feels so naive and feeble - except to send the B.E.F. to die in France again.