Dave Dawson at Dunkirk

by Robert Sidney Bowen

"Lean to the right, we're turning that way!" came the soldier's yell.

They leaned together and the motorcycle and sidecar went careening around the corner of a street. It seemed to hesitate halfway around and start to slide. But the driver skillfully checked the slide with a vicious motion on the wheel, and they went roaring up a smoke filled street. A moment or two later the driver yelled for them to lean again. They did. In fact they did it no less than a dozen times during the next few minutes. And all the while the heat of the flames beat in at them from all sides, and the crash of falling walls, or of delayed action bombs going off, was constant heart freezing thunder in their ears.

Then suddenly they shot right through the middle of one final wall of fire and burst out onto a stretch of hard packed sand. It was several seconds before the heat left them and they felt rain soaked salt air strike against their faces. They gulped it into their lungs, and then both cried out in alarm as a squad of British soldiers seemed to rise right out of the sand in front of them. Their driver instantly stood up on his foot plates and roared above the sound of his engine.

"Out of the way!" he bellowed. "A couple of young heroes to get boat tickets from his nibs, the Commandant!"

Perhaps the group of soldiers heard him, or perhaps they just naturally didn't want to run the risk of being bowled over by the on-rushing motorcycle. Anyway they leaped to the side and the driver and the two boys went banging on by without a single check in the speed. After another moment or so the soldier cut his engine, slammed on his brake and slid around to a full stop as his tires sent a shower of wet sand into the air.

"There you are, nippers!" he cried and vaulted from the seat. "How was that for a bit of a joy-ride, eh? She's a good little motor bike, she is. A bit slow, but she'll do. Now, wait half a minute while I go see if the Commandant's about. Sit tight. I'll be right back."

He flung the last back over his shoulder as he went racing off to the left. Neither Dave nor Freddy said anything. They were too busy fighting to get their breath back, and to unwedge themselves from the sidecar. Eventually they were out on the sand and feeling themselves all over just to make sure no arms or legs or anything had been left behind.

"Jeepers, jeepers!" Dave finally broke the silence. "You and that Belgian sergeant are just beginners compared to that guy. My gosh! I know darn well he must have gone right through some of those buildings, instead of around them. Gee, Freddy! Look at those flames! No wonder you could see them for miles. The whole town's going up in smoke."

"Yes, but look there, Dave!" Freddy cried and grabbed his arm as he pointed with his other hand. "There on the beach. It's the British army. Look! They're even wading out in the water to the boats! It must be too shallow for them to get in any closer. Gee, Dave, gee!"

Dave couldn't speak as he stared at the sight. The words were all too choked up inside of him to come out. The whole beach was practically covered with row after row of British and French soldiers. They stood in long columns of ten and twelve men across, and those columns stretched from high up on the beach far out into the shallow water. In some places cars, and tanks, and trucks, anything on wheels had been driven out into the water and parked side by side, parked hub to hub and planks laid across the tops of them to form a makeshift pier that could reach out into deeper water. But there were only a few of such piers. Most of the columns of men were wading out into the water until it came up to their chests, and even up to their necks.