The French were under the impression that it would take the Germans ten days for an armoured element to navigate the forest in Ardennes. Especially because they would have to cross a major river where all the bridges were destroyed. They felt the combination of the time and effort involved in moving armour made it an unlikely route of armoured attacks. They had placed scouts in villages in the area, which would give them a sense they would see the attack coming.
The camp in which Catalina tended to the wounded at had already started packing up things to move on, many of the soldiers were also being deployed to other locations. Some had already left and were now on boats. Each day a few of the medical staff at the bay would leave France by boat and travel with the wounded soldiers, they were being transported back to British soil.
Catalina's day had been extremely hectic with assisting on packing up things from the medical bay and of course, tending to the patients that remained inbetween. She found her mind often drifting to thoughts of Tom throughout the day, hoping that he would be alright. Hoping that he returned back to her in one piece. She now knew how the families and loved ones of those in the military felt and thought knowing they were off to battle on the frontline.
Being in the cubicles felt a little different, she had been used to having Tom there lately and now the room looked like it had the very first day she took up residence at the stable⏤empty. However, his scent still lingered in the air which was somewhat comforting to the brunette.
Later that evening the brunette had found herself down at the beach, unable to sleep. The same beach had visited the past few nights. She watched the waves of the river roll in towards the shore whilst the moonlight danced over them as she walked along it, holding her jacket closed to keep out the chill that was sweeping in. She had even skimmed a few pebbles across the surface of the water now that she was capable of it.
The stars had always fascinated Catalina ever since she was a child, she often found herself sat at her window looking up into the sky hoping to see a shooting one but never did. Tonight was no different although, she did wish upon the brightest one for Tom to return safe and sound.
The pressure was on for the last of the soldiers to be relocated and new camps to be set up in assistance. With a short halt ordered by the Germans, this gave the French and British a chance to get up to Belgium. The French seemed to think this would be the best approach to take in order to attack.
On board HMS Grafton, Tom had thought deeply about Catalina. Hoping he would see her again. Her underwear had remained in his pocket, and every so often a smile would appear upon his face when he remembered they were there.
The day had been pretty chaotic for Tom though. Plans of actions were put in place, and maps were scanned over and over by navigation crews and reviewed by Tom as well as over members whom were higher up in the ranks.
With no breaks, no time for a piss, no time for a cuppa or even a bite to eat, Tom had also been prepping guns and checking ammunition. He was already exhausted. One thing he had been good at doing, was remembering to put his ear drops in. The valium remained in his pocket, he would be taking it when he finally was able to settle down for a sleep.
As night fell, Soldiers settled down for their naps, and Tom was finally able to sit with a cup of coffee made by a member of staff from the kitchen. He was extremely grateful for the warm liquid, though it wasn't as nice as the tea Catalina had made for him.
With a small amount of tea left, he used it to wash down the valium tablet. Tom had a wash, then put the drops into his ears before laying down slowly on the small camp bed, he laid awake until the valium kicked in. His eyes slowly closed and his body was able to relax for a few hours.
The next two days had been just as hectic for the medical staff as the first day they started packing up, however very little remained at the bay. It was only the mere essentials needed for the patients still residing there that would leave with Catalina and three of the nurses on the last boat tomorrow morning.
German armoured units had made a surprise push through the Ardennes, and were now pushing their way along the Somme valley, cutting off and surrounding the Allied units that had advanced into Belgium to meet the expected German invasion. The Maginot line had been thought to be impassable but unfortunately, the French's thinking was wrong. The scouts they had in the villages had even struggled to find the words to explain it when calling it in.
Some of the French soldiers had been captured and taken as prisoners of war by the Germans. Others had been killed as they fought for their own lives and country. Civilians had also been killed or injured in the villages.
Tom had never strayed from Catalina's mind, she continuously thought of him, especially at night when she was alone and struggled to sleep. She hoped he was taking his medication and that the awful blast injury he had been suffering from had faded. Hoped that he thought of her when he laid his head down to rest like she did with him.
She had tried to get an early night on the eve before she was due to leave France but knowing the country you were in was under attack by the Germans made it more difficult. She lay there at night wondering if a German bomber was going to fly over and drop a bomb, her thoughts also drifted to the voyage in the morning wondering if she and the others would arrive in Portland safely.
The journey towards Belgium took longer than anticipated. Soldiers on HMS Grafton had discovered boats that had been severely damaged by the enemy. Some of the boats had sunk within minutes, leaving men in the water fighting for their lives and trying to swim to safety. The recovery process had taken up Tom's time, he barely had chance to take a breath between pulling men up. He had deployed down on the small lifeboat several times a day to move further towards the shore, pushing bodies out of the way to grab hold of the survivors that clung onto them, to try and stay afloat.
The sights he was starting to see were ones he most definitely wasn't expecting. It shocked him to the core, but he remained professional and stubborn about the situation. Signs of fear were well hidden and didn't show towards those he was rescuing. The men they had rescued, some told stories of what was happening in land.
The boat continued to head towards Belgium, on her original path, despite the ongoing situation further inland. There was no official order made to abort the task and therefore they continued.
The Hurricane and Spitfire planes flew overhead as they followed Messerschmitt and Heinkel planes, shooting at them to bring them down. This war zone was a dramatic change from being on land.
With barely any sleep, Tom sat down exhaustedly, beside a male he had rescued. The male was presenting signs of shell shock and Tom was comforting him as he sat on the floor next to his bed. He was barely even an adult, and his life now likely ruined by trauma. Tom did his best to reassure the young man enough so he would get some sleep.
Confident he was resting, he pulled his pocket watch out and checked the time before placing it back. He pulled the valium pills out and flipped the packet over and over between his fingers as he stared at the three pills that remained, thinking of Catalina. The pain from the blast injury had thankfully subsided but he hadn't had chance to keep up with the drops.
He sighed heavily and placed them back letting his eyes close for what only felt like a few seconds, it was much longer however as he drifted off to sleep.
The morning of the departure, Catalina had been up, dressed and at the medical bay much earlier than when her shift had started, she had arrived just after sunrise along with the nurses. She was a little exhausted to say the least. She had also taken the small collection of belongings she had in France with her to the medical bay. The staff had finished packing up the rest of the medical equipment and had set it to the side ready to be uplifted. Everything and everyone was all set to leave.
Several British soldiers had turned up at the bay to assist on shifting the wounded from the camp to the two medical boats that were waiting at the docks. The unit of soldiers were then being deployed to Belgium. The medical boats were painted white and had a large red cross on each side of the funnel, evidently allowing anyone who saw it know it was of no threat. It was there to transport injured soldiers and the staff from one location to another only.
It had taken the soldiers almost an hour to get everything and everyone on board the vessel and, it had set sail almost instantly the second that they had. Catalina and the staff had made the patients as comfortable as they could, they had been given food and plenty of water and tea to quench their thirst. They even had a small radio playing music in the background that one of the nurses had discovered upon her arrival.
It had came over the radio that Germans had captured 98 French soldiers when they had reached Somme valley and had lined them up along a wall and shot them all to death. The news was absolutely sickening, Catalina couldn't help but think of their families, wives, children even parents. They would never see their loved one again. It made her think of Tom, what if she never saw him again?
You could hear the dive bombers flying by from inside of the boat, the sound of explosions resonating from the distance. The medical boat had passed several large military ships, one of them had been hit and was now in the process of sinking. There was also no sign of the Royal Air Force who were supposed to cease this from happening, it's what they were trained for.
Catalina's boat had managed to escape the current war zone into a little more safety but the other medical boat hadn't been as fortunate, it had been hit by the German dive bombers despite the visible cross on the boat. It was evident that they were trying to take out everything in sight. So many good people were being killed at the hands of the Germans, when were they going to be stopped?
Some of the patients were clearly distressed at the situation, especially the male who had been shot in the head but had miraculously survived. He was freaking out so much that he had to be sedated for a few hours because he was upsetting the other patients. However, at the same time the patients reaction to what was occurring was understandable. She was mentally freaking out that their boat would get hit next.
It had taken several hours to reach Portland but finally they had and they were all safe. Soldiers carried the patients from the boat and into the small facility that was being used as a hospital not far from the docks. Catalina was glad to be off the boat and on land and she was certain that many of the others were too.
With only getting a few hours sleep, Tom woke up more tired than he was before he dosed off. The soldier who was sleeping in his bed had got up and headed off to look for food and something to drink, he seemed to have calmed down a little now thankfully. By this point, Tom didn't even remember what day it was until he asked. He did however, continue to remember and think about Catalina. He hoped that she had gone onto a better place than he was and most of all, he hoped that she was safe.
The boat had anchored down just off the Northern French coast overnight under safety measures. They were to be setting off again towards Belgium at first light. The mayday calls started coming through from the odd boats surrounding them and the lifeboats were launched to try and rescue soldiers once again. Tom argued with the odd Soldier who refused to let go of their friends who hadn't been fortunate enough to survive. He sounded harsh and it was a kick in the stomach for him to shout at the grieving men, but there was simply no room for anyone except survivors, and even then it was difficult.
Once a boat was full, surviving men remaining had to stay in the water to wait for the next boat to come along. Too much weigh in one boat would have a drastic impact on it's performance and likely sink.
When the sun began to rise, Tom came in on the last lifeboat full of soldiers, before they were to set off again. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard as the sight of bodies floating towards the shore was now more visible.
As soon as he was safely back on the boat, he took a moment and was violently sick in a nearby sink. He sat on the floor and hugged his knees breathing deeply, wishing to be somewhere else. Somewhere happy and with Catalina.
There was no way he could just leave and continue with their original task now. This had had a huge impact on everyone on board and the need to abort was imminent however, as instructed, the boat began its sail again towards Belgium.
Catalina had once again had very little sleep, her mind was doing overtime with her thoughts. She felt as if her mind was like a hamster running in its wheel. She couldn't stop thinking about the French soldiers that had been shot or the boats that had sank. So much death and destruction, it was unbelievable.
She had spent the day getting the patients she had arrived with set up into their cubicles, making it feel a little brighter for them now that it wasn't a tent that hey were contained within. It was an actual stone building, with the essentials such heat and electricity. In this new bay, the patients were allowed to have their families visit now that they were back on British soil which made some of them a little more chirpier.
The medical staff had their own rooms in a building right beside the hospital which gave them quick access should they be required for any emergencies. Catalina's room was a little more spacious than what she had been living in, in France. She had her own essential appliances and even a wardrobe where she could hang her clothing in. However, on her bedside table she had a small radio, lamp and laying beneath it was the notepad which contained Tom's address. She would often find herself reading it at night and trailing her finger over the heart shape that had been drawn and, the writing. She had almost memorised his address.
She had unpacked after her shift and set the room up the way she wanted before getting into bed. She couldn't wait to get a nice house with Tom somewhere after the war was over, waking up every morning and falling asleep each night with him would be absolutely perfect. However, one thing was missing from the room.. Tom's scent. She hated that she couldn't smell it in the air or, on any of her belongings.
With German planes circling around, it made most of the soldiers on board feel uneasy, waiting for the moment where the boat would explode. Thankfully though it didn't and sighs of relief came from everyone when they had passed.
Tom made his way up onto the main deck where he spoke with the Captain as well as other men of higher rank. He learnt that the Germans had pushed French and British soldiers back at Dunkirk after their arrival, now determined to leave no survivors in their path. His stomach was churning more and more. How his heart was even coping was now beyond him.
Three miles off of the Nieuwpoort coast and the original task was now aborted. It was too unsafe for them to go inland and therefore had to wait further instruction from the Chief Commander. The boat's anchor was dropped once again and Soldiers took turns on duty on the turrets, keeping watchful eyes on the sky as well as the water.
After the change of plan debrief, Tom went on watch duty. He used the binoculars making sure he scanned every part of sea and air. His mind was focused but the thought of Catalina was still present. He had still kept her underwear and placed them into his pocket every time he had changed his clothes. He hoped she was happy and safe, but most of all, he hoped she hadn't forgot about him or lost his address.
As night drew, explosions could be seen down the coast. Tom finished his watch duty and passed the binoculars on. He headed back inside as he was cold, and was given some tea to warm him up.
Catalina had tried to grab an earlier night than what she had been turning into bed at the past few nights, not only was her body exhausted but her mind was aswell. She needed a good night's sleep so she could focus better tomorrow, she didn't want any judgement she made to be affected.
She lifted the notepad from the bedside cabinet, opening it up onto the page in which Tom had written his address. The pad of her forefinger traced around the line of the heart then each letter of the words that made up his address. A small smile was etched onto her features as she had read it over again.
She set the notepad down again then reached up to switch the lamp off, shutting the place down into darkness. Something she was used to from living at the stables. Everything was pitch black here at night.
She snuggled down under the thin sheet, pulling it up over her shoulder to keep warm. Her eyelids fluttered closed then reopened as she lay in silence staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows that were casted upon it from the tree outside.
The boat never slept. Men remained on guard through the night and others were awaiting instruction from the Chief Commander.
Bread and butter went round as did small cups of tea, through the night. Tom took a slice and a cup of tea before he took himself off to a part of the boat that was quieter. There was nothing more he could do until instruction was given and therefore sleep seemed a likely option for him. He found a spot in the corner and just slouched down against the wall. He had given up his room and it had now been taken over by soldiers with physical and mental injuries who needed the bed. He would much rather someone who really needed it, to have it.
Bread and butter never tasted so good. But he was starving and ate it too quick which then gave him indigestion. He frowned and rubbed the centre of his chest hoping that it would pass and it was nothing more. He washed the bread down with his tea and just sighed.
Eventually he gave in and popped a valium pill out. He placed it into his mouth and finished his tea off, swallowing it. After setting the tin cup down he leaned to the side against the wall and waited for it to kick in.
When it eventually kicked in, Toms eyes fluttered closed and his head flopped forwards as he dosed off to sleep.
The following morning it had came over the radio that thousands of soldiers, British, Belgian and French were all awaiting to be evacuated from Dunkirk. The Germans had pushed them back to that location and were intent on a massacre.
Some French soldiers had remained behind trying to hold them off so that the soldiers on the beach could get to safety but it was becoming more difficult for them to do so. The Germans were air raiding those on the beach and the boats that had docked to assist in the evacuation. The RAF had also now turned up and were trying to shoot them down, it was like cut one head off a snake and another two appear.
Catalina was now starting to fear that something had happened to Tom, was he one of the soldiers on the beach that were stranded at Dunkirk despite his departure from the country? Her heart ached to even think that he was. The Germans were closing in and they were like sitting ducks waiting to be massacred.
The brunette had to continue on with her work despite what her mind was thinking, she had no choice. Some of the patients in the hospital were dependant on the medical staff, all she could do was hang onto hope and keep faith.
Her day was so slow she was starting to doubt if the hands on her watch were even working, it felt like each time she looked at the time it hadn't moved much. She was desperate to hear more news on the soldiers stranded at Dunkirk, hoping and praying that the French soldiers could hold off the Germans long enough for the allies to get to safety.
As morning came, the Chief Commander gave word on what their intentions should be. This was to head towards Dunkirk and assist with the evacuation off shore.
Tom woke up with a stiff neck after being asleep for some time in the same position. He carefully got to his feet and took the cup back to get a refill, that's if it hadn't run out of course.
He was grateful to get a small amount of tea, just enough to wet his throat a bit, before he headed up to the main deck for the mornings debrief. This was where he learned of the Chief Commanders instructions. Agreeing a plan of action, the anchor was soon raised and the boat began to move again.
It hadn't been moving long when the destroyer discovered a boat, HMS Wakeful, which had been severely damaged by two torpedoes.
As before, lifeboats were launched down to help rescue the men. Tom knew this was now the task until he got back on British soil. Rescuing men and to stay alive.
The French proceeded to fight on land in an attempt at keeping the German divisions from assaulting Dunkirk, it was posing to be difficult but, they held their ground best they could to give those on the beach more time to be evacuated.
The Luftwaffe's relentless bombing attacks on the harbour was slowing down the evacuation process, even as Royal Air Force planes tried to delay or stop the German planes, losing many aircraft in the process.
The destroyers had now began pumping shells into the air whilst the Stukas were diving, zooming, screeching and wheeling over the soldiers on the beach heads like a flock of huge infernal seagulls. The soldiers were completely exposed on the beach. Nowhere to take shelter or run to.
The destroyer HMS Jaguar had been damaged. She had taken on board about one thousand soldiers, and had been steaming away from the harbour when a bomb landed in the sea just a couple of yards away, and exploded. Steam had been let off from the ship's fractured steam pipes. The ship's engines had stopped and then there was "a deathly hush" that was only broken by the cries of the wounded on board.
Some of the soldiers on board the HMS Jaguar had been badly burned and had limbs blown off which those very few that weren't injured tried to stem the bleeding with tourniquets. One soldier even had half his head blown off, his brains literally hanging out of its partial confinement.
HMS Wakeful was sinking quickly. She had a lot of board before she was hit. The original crew and then those who they had rescued, all now trying to jump into the sea and trying to get to to the lifeboats.
Once again, not everyone at once could get onto the boats. Tom had become hard faced and quite strict. He hadn't got a choice. If he was soft, he would have either broken down or let everyone on board the lifeboat, only for it to then sink.
They tried to get as many survivors on board as they could. Overcrowding was a major issue now back on board HMS Grafton, but the boat continued. Her intentions now were to safely get the soldiers back to Dover, and then return to assist with rescuing more survivors.
As night fell, the lower decks were crammed and the extra weight was having an impact on the Grafton's speed. Tom was once again in a quiet place. The past few days had been somewhat traumatic for him and how he had held it together, he wouldn't ever know. By having a moment to himself, he found himself thinking about Catalina. He hoped she was safe and back on British soil.
As Tom was dosing off to sleep, him and everyone else were unaware that the destroyer was being watched by a Commander of an enemy U-Boat.
Those on the upper decks and outside trying to keep guard then noticed a fast approach from an object in the water. "Torpedo! Torpedo!" Men shouted but due to the high volume of noise from men lower deck, no one could hear the calls. The destroyer was hit in the stern with such force that it caused another explosion on the bridge. This killed many, including the captain.
With the boat damaged, and the back broken, the fight for survival on board was on.
Tom had been in the middle, but close to the back of the boat, the impact wasn't powerful enough to kill him thankfully. With floors collapsing, he was knocked out and became trapped by supports from the boats frame. To the survivors on the same deck, they presumed he was dead.
The HMS Grenade, which had been tied up at the mole alongside HMS Jaguar had now been hit by a bomb dropped by a plane flying amongst a wave of bombers. The bomb had went down the ship's forward funnel and exploded.
Men were jumping into the water over the side of the ship, and climbing up on to the mole. Some had staggered on to Crested Eagle, a paddle steamer moored to the other side of the mole. They had taken on board wounded men only to be hit by four of the bombs dropped by yet another wave of bombers.
The RAF had frequently been outnumbered by the Luftwaffe who were still continuing to make several successful attacks on the town and port, and severely disrupting the evacuation process.
The RAF had been absent a lot from Dunkirk due to the deeper patrol lines, many soldiers were starting to think that they abandoned them but the deeper patrol lines were not visible to those trapped in the town or on the beaches or they would have known the situation. At times it would take up to an hour for their presence to be even seen over the beach.
Catalina had tried to keep up with the broadcasts as much as possible regarding what was happening at Dunkirk and Winston Churchill's words on the situation. To be honest, it wasn't looking good for those trapped there. Many were going to be killed or taken as prisoners of war and placed into concentration camps.
Not a minute ever passed by that Tom wasn't on the brunette's mind, she constantly worried that something had happened to him despite the hope she was clinging to.
She hated the feeling of not knowing if he was alright and had somehow reached safety, it played with her mind. Fretfulness had affected her sleep, she was lucky if she got four hours rest before she was back up and at it again at the hospital.
Silence fell across the damaged destroyer. Men had either been killed or were in the water swimming towards HMS Ivanhoe who's men were assisting in the rescue operation.
Tom was unconscious for some time. When he finally did come round his body was shaking in shock and the almighty headache. Blood ran down his face and he kept trying to wipe it with his sleeve. He tried to move but was trapped by the steel frames that had collapsed. His chest rose and fell quickly and he tried to call out for help but no one responded.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, turning a little bloody from his wounds and blood trails they dripped off his face, and panic struck him. This was it. He was going to die. Alone. No one would ever know.
Catalina.
What about Catalina?
He had promised to be careful. Of course it wasn't his fault but he had tried not to get hurt, and now he was stuck and likely to die on the sinking boat.
Several explosions came from around the boat as HMS Ivanhoe fired at her, in order to sink her. She was too badly damaged to even be towed. Tom could feel the deck filling quickly with water. He was now wanting his death to be quick and not painful. He grabbed his 303 which he had carried with him everywhere, and placed it to his chin. His eyes closed tightly. Just before he pulled the trigger the boats chassis broke up, causing the steel frames to move enough to set him free.
He was dragged underwater with the movements but managed to swim out of broken parts and surfaced above water, gasping and breathing heavily. Tom looked around quickly as he saw Ivanhoe sailing off, leaving him behind. His second chance of survival had been crushed.
Looking about, whimpers left his lips as he was surrounded by bodies, some without limbs, some without heads and even heads with no bodies circled him. "F–Fuck.." he shivered and tried to push them away. He was growing weak because of the cold waters but thankfully the wreckage behind him from Grafton appeared to have hit the seabed, leaving a section just above water. He used all his strength to pull himself up onto it and hugged his knees shaking in fear, pain and the cold.
His only hope was that a vessel spotted him in daylight.
Several of the wounded from the beach were being carried onto the medical ship to be taken to Dover. Soldiers were placing them on stretchers, running across the beach and up onto the decking that led to the vessel. Some parts of the decking had been destroyed, only one thick wooden slat of wood assisting them to reach the other side which wasn't exactly secure.
Some of the soldiers had even taken up burying their dead comrades in the golden age of sand as they waited to be evacuated.
The lifeless bodies of those who had drifted towards the shore line were also being pushed back out to sea by a few of the lined up soldiers.
The medical ship was ready to depart from Dunkirk, they had just had two soldiers jump on board carrying a wounded soldier who then had been told leave the vessel. The vessel was overcrowded as it was and since they weren't medical staff or wounded they had to wait for another ship to be evacuated.
A German bomber had appeared once again heading towards the beach of Dunkirk, it released a bomb as it flew over the medical boat and hit it causing the ship to start sinking. Soldiers were scrambling over board into the water to safety as parts of the vessel caught fire, some climbing onto parts of the mole to safety.
The Navy Captain had ordered immediately for the ship to be released from the mole, if the mole was destroyed then it was going to be much more difficult for the soldiers to be evacuated as the water near Dunkirk was extremely shallow. This was the only high point in the location for bigger ships to dock.
The bomber plane had returned and was headed back again, it dropped bomb after bomb across the beach causing the lined up soldiers to drop to the ground and attempt to shield themselves as the blasts occurred. The Germans had taken out several more of the British, French and Belgian soldiers with the attack.
Two RAF fighter jets had appeared in the sky in duel formation, chasing down the German bomber at immense speed. They had struck the plane causing a thick cloud of greyish smoke to billow out of it as it dived involuntarily towards the sea. Some of the soldiers cheered and applauded at the scene they had just witnessed, it may have only been one plane that was taken out but it was one less for the Germans.
As daylight came, Tom remained on the wreckage. His clothes were damp and he was shivering. The waters around him had turned red from the blood that left the bodies of his fellow soldiers on board the now sunken destroyer. He was surrounded by body parts. The expressions on some of the faces were likely to haunt him forever. Everywhere he turned it was all he could see.
He held out a small amount of hope that a vessel would spot him, but as the day went on, planes flew over above his head but not one vessel went by close enough to catch their attention so he could be rescued. The hope was now disappearing and his eyes were fighting to stay open, just in case he did see something. Not only that, every time he shut his eyes he saw the faces of the bodies.
In order to stay awake he started to speak to himself. Saying things like his address over and over. His mind drifted as he thought of his first and only love.
Catalina.
"I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces all day through
In that small cafe, the park across the way
The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well
I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning' sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you."
He sung quietly as the sun was setting and darkness hit once again. He looked out for the moon and then watched for shooting stars. There were none. None that he could wish upon.
The night was long and he repeated the words to the song, I'll be seeing you, a few times, then followed by We'll meet again. His mind focused on Catalina as he did.
"We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Till the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them I won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singing this song
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day
Keep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Til the blue skies
Drive the dark clouds far away
So will you please say hello
To the folks that I know
Tell them it won't be long
They'll be happy to know
That as you saw me go
I was singin' this song
We'll meet again
Don't know where
Don't know when
But I know we'll meet again some sunny day."
Once the sun rose, the SOS call was put out to all vessels. This encouraged civilian boats back in Britian to sail towards Dunkirk to help with the evacuation of soldiers.
One particular boat named the Moonstone, set off from Weymouth with three persons on board, before the Navy had even checked them over. The boat was loaded with life jackets ready to help the soldiers.
Tom was now weak. No words could even leave his lips no matter how much he tried.
"We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills – we shall never surrender."
The words of Winston Churchill's previous words at the House Of Commons kept playing over and over on the radio.
The defiance of the brave soldiers on the beaches of Dunkirk did not go unnoticed by the world nor would they ever. The Germans had trapped them and still, many of them held onto hope that they would one way or another get home to their families.
Catalina had heard over the radio that civilian ships had been asked to sail to Dunkirk to help with the evacuation of the soldiers and bring them home. Those who had set sail were putting their own lives at risk by doing so, the spirit and bravery that each participant showed to save them was astounding.
Some of the medical staff at Portland had been asked to travel to Weymouth upon the return of the little ships which would be within the next few days to help with any of the wounded that came back on them and transport them to the hospital. Some would go to Portland and others, would go to the hospital in Weymouth. Larger ships would carry most of the injured back to Britain and transport them to the designated locations. Portland couldn't take them all unfortunately without the building being overcrowded.
Catalina prayed that Tom was alive and well, and that he would be on one of those boats when they returned. He had promised that he would come back to her and she, had promised that she would find him when he did.
The French soldiers who had been holding off the German infantry on land where now slowly being pushed back to Dunkirk themselves. Many parts of France had been destroyed and was on fire as the panzers rolled through the streets firing in retaliation to the French army that was defending their land.
The medical staff at Portland were setting up beds in various locations around the hospital, preparing for the arrivals of the wounded from Dunkirk whilst tending to the patients that were already in their care. They were expecting hundreds to arrive at their new building once the large ships docked. It was once again going to be another few hectic days but at least they were coming home and would be greeted by the welcoming arms of their loved ones.
The Moonstone continued to sail through the waters of the English Channel. Neither boys on board knew what they were heading into although Mr Dawson did for sure. Peter, Mr Dawson's son, was using the binoculars as they edging closer towards France. Looking through the eye pieces, Peter spotted what looked to be wreckage. He wasn't familiar as such with things but certainly knew that an object sticking up in the middle of the English Channel wasn't normal.
After bringing the unknown object to his fathers attention, Mr. Dawson went off course and approached the object with caution. He shouted to Peter to grab the ropes after discovering a male soldier sat on top. He had no idea of his Nationality but knew he had to help the poor soul.
As they edged closer in the small vessel, they had to be careful as it wasn't visible under the sea, where the rest of the wreckage was. Hitting that would have been dangerous. Now as close as they could get, Peter was at the front of the Moonstone trying to lure Tom into jumping into the water so they could throw the rope down and pull him to safety.
Tom's body was slowly shutting down. He could barely function and was told again to jump. Out of nowhere he found the energy to push up to his feet and dived into the icy waters. His arms weren't working properly and he was taken under the water quickly, before he resurfaced. "Grab the rope!" Peter called out as he threw the rope out to him. Tom, with all his might, managed to grab the rope and held it as he was dragged closer to the boat and eventually pulled up on deck.
He was safe. Alive, and safe.
That didn't stop him from being traumatised though. He huddled up in the corner at the rear of the small vessel and hugged his knees, shivering from shock, the cold, the pain and the trauma.
A blanket was placed around him quickly causing him to flinch a little, and George went to go and make him some tea. "You wanna go below deck? It's much warmer down there." George spoke politely thinking he was helping. As the tin cup was handed to him, Tom involuntary hit it away and set the cup flying across the deck, spilling its contents.
"He probably feels safer on deck, George. You would too if you'd been bombed." Mr. Dawson reassured George that it was nothing against him. "U-Boat..." Tom finally spoke. It was a U-Boat." He repeated, drawing Mr. Dawson's attention. Peter told George to go and make him another cup of tea.
This cup of tea, he carefully drunk although it didn't warm him up much or settle him. He carefully stood up and looked about before asking where they were going.
"Dunkirk.." Mr. Dawson responded, to which triggered further trauma for Tom. "No, No, we're going to England." Tom spoke in a panic. "We have to go to Dunkirk, first." Mr. Dawson stood his ground. "I'm not going back, I'm not going back. Look at it. If we, if we go there, we'll die." Tom insisted. He was frightened. "I see your point, Son. Well let's plot the course. You can take your tea below and warm up. Pete, have we got space for a man to lie down?" Mr. Dawson asked. Peter gave a nod and lead Tom downstairs quietly locking him in. Tom was now under the impression they were going to England. Of course they weren't but he wasn't to know. Yet.
George was somewhat fascinated by Tom, but he didn't understand his doings. "Is he a coward, Mr. Dawson?" - "He's shell-shocked, George. He's not himself. He may never be himself again." Mr. Dawson responded to him sadly.
After a short while Tom tried to open the door but with it being locked he couldn't. Panic set in and he couldn't open it. He tried to call and bang against the door, finally grabbing attention. The door was opened only to find Tom had climbed out of the skylight and was now on deck, alongside Mr. Dawson.
"You haven't turned around." Tom frowned angrily. "No, we have a job to do." Mr. Dawson replied. "Job?! This is a, this is a pleasure yacht. You're, you're weekend sailors, not the bloody Navy. A man your age.." Tom Scoffed.
"Men my age dictate this war. Why should we be allowed to send our children to fight it?" Mr. Dawson responded back calmly to Tom. He knew Tom's words were ones of fear. "You should be at home." Tom whimpered, he thought of Catalina as he spoke the words of home. He hoped she was home, or somewhere safe.
"Well, there won't be any home if we allow slaughter across the Channel. There's no hiding from this, son." ── "What is it you think you can do on this thing?" ── "It's not just us. The call went out. We aren't the only ones to answer, you know?" ── "You don't even have guns. ── "Do you have a gun?" ── "Yes, of course. A rifle, a 303." ── "Did it help you against the dive bombers and the U-boat?" Mr. Dawsons last few words almost broke Tom inside. He was now feeling as if it was his fault for not protecting the men on board HMS Grafton. "You're an old fool." He hissed. "I'm not going back. I'm not going back. Turn it around." ── "I'm not turning around." Mr. Dawson protested. "Turn it around!" Tom raised his voice and tried to shove Mr. Dawson to the other side of the steering wheel. George stepped in and tried to intervene with the pair, but Tom ended up pushing him away. George fell down the stairs below resulting in a head injury.
"What have you done?!" Peter called out as he ran down to tend to his friend.
Tom stumbled back and huddled into the corner again, speechless. Nothing would come out. His body became numb.
Overnight, the vessel sailed closer to Dunkirk and had picked up an RAF pilot and had started taking on men from a Destroyer that was sinking. All this time, Tom hadn't spoke nor moved. He physically couldn't. Peter had discovered that George had sadly died due to the nature of his fall, but told Tom, he would be fine.
As morning came, hundreds of vessels were arriving across the English Channel to help with the Evacuation. The moonstone was full to the brink of men they had rescued, some covered in oil. Tom still hadn't spoke or moved despite Peter attempting to get him to do so.
The boat was now successfully returning to England, all men on board cheering as they were happy to have survived, and happy to be going home to their loved ones.