Library Reference Number: 238
Evacuation - B.E.F. 1940
The following eye-witness account of the horrendous loss of lives during the disastrous evacuation of the British Expeditionary Force in 1940, is told in a letter to an RAF comrade at the time when Britain stood alone.
Recipient of the letter was one of our late members, Andrew Jackson, who trained alongside Alan Beattie in pre-war RAFVR service in Glasgow and described Alan as a thoroughly reliable and trusted friend, but a ‘larger than life’ character. Despite Alan’s ‘devil may care’ attitude, Andrew Jackson held Alan in very high regard for his attention to detail which no doubt produced the following highly perceptive account of a tragic evacuation.
Sgt. Alan Glen Beattie was a member of No.98 Squadron which had been newly equipped with Fairey Battle aircraft in June 1938, and in April 1939 the Squadron was affiliated to the city of Derby while No.98 was based at RAF Hucknall. War with Germany was declared on 3rd September 1939, and on 16th April 1940 members of the Squadron arrived in Nantes, France. For two months the Squadron participated in training aircrew newly arrived from UK, but early in June 1940 the Squadron was ordered to return to UK.
On Monday 17th June fourteen officers and two hundred and thirty other ranks from 98 Squadron left St Nazaire harbour on the ‘SS Lancastria’. Only four weeks later, Sgt. Alan Beattie described what happened in a letter to Andrew Jackson dated 15th July 1940 while recent horrific events were still clearly in his mind.
Dear Andy, - Have received your letter dated 6/6/40 which was sent to this place via Benson, BEF France, Lossiemouth and finally here (98 Squadron RAF, Gatwick Airport, England).
I myself have had a bit of a ‘do’ since leaving Benson . . .I left Benson on June 9th and flew over to France to join the above Squadron (98) flying the same bombing machines as we did at Porthcawl. The air action I did over there was very little as we got orders to proceed home. On Saturday 15th ‘A’ Flight flew the kites back to Ramsey Mac’s place and ‘B’ Flight and all the ground crews proceeded from Nantes to St.Nazaire on lorries. For three days the Nazis gave us a warm reception and we had to make a bolt for it leaving our kit behind.
Of course I still held on to my 1500 cigarettes (6d for 20 Players), two bottles whisky and one bottle rum (5/- for each bottle). I also had ladies silk stockings, cigarette case and £5, fountain pens, cigarette lighters and watch but I lost all that when the ship was sunk and I’ll tell you about that later. . .
However, on Monday morning 17th June we boarded the ‘Lancastria’ in St.Nazaire Bay and we had 1st Class cabins for the Sergeants and a colossal breakfast and dinner. Life then seemed ideal and we were all looking forward to a nice long, quiet cruise. However, Mr Heinkel and Dornier thought otherwise.
At 1.45 pm they started their attack. A salvo of four bombs struck the ‘Oronsay’ destroying the bridge, superstructure and putting out of action the electrical plant and steering gear, and although the ship developed a leak but the pumps overcame that.
Attack after attack was made on the ‘Lancastria’ and as I was on duty on the gun deck I let fly at the kites but as he was attacking from the sun I was blinded and couldn’t see the b….rd. At 3.30 I went down to my cabin to get my sun glasses. I next proceeded to the toilet and was in the midst of doing my business when the alarm went off again. I just got on to the deck below the boat deck when a bomb struck the Sergeants and Officers’ Mess and it certainly made a mess of these places. Panic reigned supreme and Mr Dornier made another attack and this time two bombs fell through No.3 Hold and one came through No.1 Hatch holing the ship. She started to go down immediately; incidentally my watch which will never go again registered 16.08. The ship received the final blow at 16.01 hours and sank at 16.17 hours.
People were yelling like mad and I had just picked up a little girl (there were 20 women & children refugees aboard) when the ship listed to port. I tried to make my way up the ladder to the boat deck when the crowd rushed over to starboard to level the boat. This stampede knocked me for ‘6’ & I fell on to the deck and never saw the kiddie again. Another bomb hit the deck while I was lying and I was literally lifted at least 6” off the deck by the blast. The noise was terrific and I was blinded for a few minutes by the flash.
I got to my feet and the boat listed to starboard. The soldiers and airmen rushed to the port side and of course the weight of numbers caused the boat to list to port. As soon as the list started I slithered across the deck and came to rest against the gunwale. There 75 feet below, the sea was literally crammed with struggling bodies, rafts and flying debris. Soldiers in a never-ending column were jumping into the water and I’m sure hundreds must have been killed with people landing of top of each other in the water and also by others throwing rafts and planks from the deck into the water.
Knowing it was no use staying aboard (and incidentally I felt a little panic) I stripped off my shoes, socks and trousers, clad only in my shirt collar and tie, life jacket, identity discs and my watch (which is now a stop watch) I perched on that gunwale and surveyed that terrifying drop into the water. Ultimately I summoned enough courage and closing my eyes, holding my nose with one hand and my life jacket with the other to prevent it hitting my chin on impact with the water – I jumped! Down and under I went – sounds like hours and when I did break surface I was about twenty feet away from the side of the ship.
I swam like mad away from the doomed vessel and when I was utterly exhausted I floated and on looking back I saw the ‘Lancastria’ keel over on her side and men running down her side into the water. Others were still clinging to the masts when she went under. So much for the sea.
Meanwhile the Hurricanes had arrived and were knocking shit out of the Nazi swine and I believe they shot down two and the Flak from the destroyers ended the career of another.
But our Nazi friends weren’t finished with us buggers. Once the ship went down the oil came to the surface and on seeing this the swine dropped incendiary bombs hoping to set the oil on fire but fortunately this did not happen. Next they dived low and commenced to machine gun the lifeboats but I don’t think they killed many.
While this is going on ‘Big Time’ is gaily swimming along and taking his strokes easy. One hour passes and he is still swimming finding it impossible to ‘thumb his way.’ Ultimately, after being in the water for 11/2 hours we were picked up by a destroyer. When the destroyer was crammed with survivors it made off and transferred its human cargo to the ‘Oronsay.’ Well, we were all aboard that ship 995 souls out of a total of 6,000 – 7,000 men; later I learnt that there were about 2,000 survivors.
I can assure you Andy that not one survivor slept aboard the ‘Oronsay.’ Huddled together wrapped in blankets (we had one allotted). We stayed on the boat deck with our ears and eyes alert as the ship raced zigzag across the Bay of Biscay out into the Atlantic and finally crept up the English coast to Plymouth. I landed there with a pair of soldier’s trousers on, one pair of socks and a blanket over my shoulder.
We landed at Plymouth and the town was out to cheer us. Girls came up and kissed us – pushed chocolate and cigarettes into our hands and ladies from the YMCA gave us writing paper and envelopes to write home.
I was damned sorry to leave Plymouth that night as I’m sure I could have had a fair time with the women. However, we left at 9.0pm to go to Yatesbury and instead of getting there at 10.30pm the engine driver got lost and only found out his mistake at Worcester. We did get to Yatesbury but that was 5.30 on Wednesday morning.
On the following day I left for home with 3 weeks leave but after being 10 days at home I was recalled to my Squadron. Well Andy, you asked for a ‘Big Time’ yarn but this time the above is right in every detail. I was recalled on the 30th June and went up to Lossiemouth only to discover that my Squadron had moved south (to Gatwick Airport). . Thanks a lot Andy for the snaps as all the snaps I once possessed are lost.
I’ll close now and wish all you lads the very best of luck and here’s hoping we may all meet again soon . . .
Your Sincere Friend & ‘China’ - Glen alias “Big Time.”
Footnote: Andrew Jackson had explained earlier that Alan/Glen Beattie had earned the nickname “Big Time” because of his outgoing personality and outlook. Andrew felt this helped him through the ‘Lancastria’ ordeal.
According to www.raf.mod/uk/history/98squadron.cfm seventy-five airmen of No.98 Squadron were officially reported lost and fifteen others are believed to have perished. Survivors reached England in various vessels, in some cases several weeks after the disaster.
After re-forming at Gatwick in July 1940, from where the above letter had been mailed, No.98 Squadron, still equipped with Fairey Battles, spent a year's service in Iceland with Coastal Command.
We are indebted to the late Andrew Jackson who had earlier granted permission to publish the above personal letter. Andrew himself had also contributed website library accounts Nos. 2, 5, 6, 40, 68, 83, & 91.