Thanks Pat.
There's another piece of truth which is difficult to touch on sometimes, because people do believe that their boat actually went to Dunkirk, and can get very defensive about this. There is an Admirality List of the boats that took part that is very accurate. Harry always bemoaned the number of Mears boats that carried the "DUNKIRK 1940" brass plaque, and on investigation, it turns out he was correct.
On May 26th 1940, Mears' The King, Abercorn, Hurlingham, Marchioness and the Kingwood were all moored up at Westminster Pier Buoys. The Viscount managed to get as far as Ramsgate harbour. His Majesty, Royal Thames, Viscountess, Connaught, Kingwood, The King, Abercorn, Hurlingham and Marchioness all got as far as HMS Wildfire. The problem was their freshwater steam boilers (Tigris I ran petrol-paraffin on a Thornycroft RD6 engine). When Viscount became such a problem in her group advancing out of the estuary towards marshalling at Ramsgate, it was debated whether to machine-gun and sink her off Herne Bay, or take her in tow. Luckily, she managed to get towed to Ramsgate, and stayed there until mid June when she was towed back upriver. This was a decisive moment for the rest of the Mears fleet heading downriver to Sheerness, and at 11:50am on Thursday 30th May 1940 the Admiralty (Dynamo Command, Dover), issued the following radio communiqué; ADMIRAL TAYLOR, SHEERNESS "Thames river steamers have no condensers and cannot run on seawater. Request no more be sent." (*TO DSVP (R) DoLST). Somewhere, my father or Uncle Roland has a photograph of The Marchioness taken in the third week of June 1940, I believe at Westminster Pier, with a party of revelling soldiers on a 'day-off' aboard... and not a single scratch from any battle.
However, let's be fair here. Any boat that was volunteered and moved downriver, took part in Operation Dynamo in some way. Speed was essential to rescue the third of a million men, representing nearly all the experience of The British Army, so things became very confused, and mistakes were made. Crews who knew their own boats were sent back home from the first arrivals, and The Navy started to run low on RNVR personnel to crew the vessels. Others were taken off dredgers and cutters, given a pleasure boat they had never seen in their lives before and told to get on with it. In amongst them were teenagers, used to working for a few shillings on a weekend, like young grocer's boy, Jack Sturgeon, who thought he'd be having a nice run down river for a few pence, only to end up stranded on the beach at La Panne when a two and a half inch grass-line wrapped around and ripped out Court Belle II's propellor on the very first run. Jack was rescued by a Navy MTB, delivered back to Ramsgate, and found himself helping marshal vessels at HMS Wildfire, Sheerness... including Joe Mears' boats. After the war, the Admirality allowed Dunkirk plates to be put on any vessel that had been called up.
Although it is very difficult, I'm trying to portray the scale of the events. The best way I can put it is like this: How many photographs exist of the battle? Very, very few on the Allied side. One very brave American photographer, keen to capture the action, managed to get aboard a boat bound for Dunkirk. He took three photographs of the first run into the beach before dropping his camera and helping with the rescue. Imagine poor Bill, Harry and Warren, having their first incoming salvos of German artillery fire at around 07:00 on Thursday May 30th until escaping aboard Queens Channel in the early hours of Saturday June 1st, having been Stuka dive bombed, high-altitude bombed with high-explosives (into sand and water) and incendiaries, shelled and machine-gunned. Having smelt the cordite, the burnt flesh and the fear. Having seen men, some only half alive, wretched and starving, but still with the cheek and banter that we English are famous the world over for. Imagine the bloated bodies floating in amongst the flotsam, the abandoned horses galloping wildly up and down the beaches, the hungry town dogs eating the flesh of the fallen. Imagine the animosity towards the French troops, or the confusion with Dutch, Belgian, Norwegian and Polish men. Imagine the civilian locals. All this happened, and there's no way to tell the story without it.
There's another piece of truth which is difficult to touch on sometimes, because people do believe that their boat actually went to Dunkirk, and can get very defensive about this. There is an Admirality List of the boats that took part that is very accurate. Harry always bemoaned the number of Mears boats that carried the "DUNKIRK 1940" brass plaque, and on investigation, it turns out he was correct.
On May 26th 1940, Mears' The King, Abercorn, Hurlingham, Marchioness and the Kingwood were all moored up at Westminster Pier Buoys. The Viscount managed to get as far as Ramsgate harbour. His Majesty, Royal Thames, Viscountess, Connaught, Kingwood, The King, Abercorn, Hurlingham and Marchioness all got as far as HMS Wildfire. The problem was their freshwater steam boilers (Tigris I ran petrol-paraffin on a Thornycroft RD6 engine). When Viscount became such a problem in her group advancing out of the estuary towards marshalling at Ramsgate, it was debated whether to machine-gun and sink her off Herne Bay, or take her in tow. Luckily, she managed to get towed to Ramsgate, and stayed there until mid June when she was towed back upriver. This was a decisive moment for the rest of the Mears fleet heading downriver to Sheerness, and at 11:50am on Thursday 30th May 1940 the Admiralty (Dynamo Command, Dover), issued the following radio communiqué; ADMIRAL TAYLOR, SHEERNESS "Thames river steamers have no condensers and cannot run on seawater. Request no more be sent." (*TO DSVP (R) DoLST). Somewhere, my father or Uncle Roland has a photograph of The Marchioness taken in the third week of June 1940, I believe at Westminster Pier, with a party of revelling soldiers on a 'day-off' aboard... and not a single scratch from any battle.
However, let's be fair here. Any boat that was volunteered and moved downriver, took part in Operation Dynamo in some way. Speed was essential to rescue the third of a million men, representing nearly all the experience of The British Army, so things became very confused, and mistakes were made. Crews who knew their own boats were sent back home from the first arrivals, and The Navy started to run low on RNVR personnel to crew the vessels. Others were taken off dredgers and cutters, given a pleasure boat they had never seen in their lives before and told to get on with it. In amongst them were teenagers, used to working for a few shillings on a weekend, like young grocer's boy, Jack Sturgeon, who thought he'd be having a nice run down river for a few pence, only to end up stranded on the beach at La Panne when a two and a half inch grass-line wrapped around and ripped out Court Belle II's propellor on the very first run. Jack was rescued by a Navy MTB, delivered back to Ramsgate, and found himself helping marshal vessels at HMS Wildfire, Sheerness... including Joe Mears' boats. After the war, the Admirality allowed Dunkirk plates to be put on any vessel that had been called up.
Although it is very difficult, I'm trying to portray the scale of the events. The best way I can put it is like this: How many photographs exist of the battle? Very, very few on the Allied side. One very brave American photographer, keen to capture the action, managed to get aboard a boat bound for Dunkirk. He took three photographs of the first run into the beach before dropping his camera and helping with the rescue. Imagine poor Bill, Harry and Warren, having their first incoming salvos of German artillery fire at around 07:00 on Thursday May 30th until escaping aboard Queens Channel in the early hours of Saturday June 1st, having been Stuka dive bombed, high-altitude bombed with high-explosives (into sand and water) and incendiaries, shelled and machine-gunned. Having smelt the cordite, the burnt flesh and the fear. Having seen men, some only half alive, wretched and starving, but still with the cheek and banter that we English are famous the world over for. Imagine the bloated bodies floating in amongst the flotsam, the abandoned horses galloping wildly up and down the beaches, the hungry town dogs eating the flesh of the fallen. Imagine the animosity towards the French troops, or the confusion with Dutch, Belgian, Norwegian and Polish men. Imagine the civilian locals. All this happened, and there's no way to tell the story without it.
England on Bona's moorings, Caversham, 1915.
Note the eel traps to the right of the moorings.
