Remembrance days are with us which brings back many a gruesome occasion and event to me which may also interest you. I refer to the early stages and build up to the war.

I have been in one of the entrances to the Maginot line, built by a Frenchman of that name which looked formidable, impregnable fortifications but did not serve the purpose because it only extended from the Swiss borders to Luxembourg and left a large unprotected area right up to the Baltic and North Seas.

The Germans were quick to take full advantage of this and with little resistance swept through Holland to the North Sea and were in an ideal position to encircle all our armies, scattered beyond Brussels, had they done so then.

Well, that would have meant 'Amen' to the war and the Nazi regime for all of us. This was 'our darkest hour' and not Dunkirk.

We were within sight of Liege almost on the German borders with the Germans miles behind.

Col Grover was our battalion commander and I was his personal despatch rider Constantly being with him made me fully aware of the positions of everyone. Lord Gort was supreme commander and was quick to learn of the precarious situation we were all in and ordered a withdrawal at once.

The only means of communication was despatch riders. There were only a few of us capable of reading ordnance maps. It was useless to look at road signs as they were pointing to any direction bar the right one.

Col Grover had already pinpointed every battalion's position to me, so, between us few despatch riders, everyone was notified of Lord Gort's orders, and an orderly, successful retreat was complete.

We despatch riders also had the very difficult task to clear the blocked roads of the thousands of elderly men, women and children, prams, wheelbarrows and God knows what else, anything to carry their few treasured possessions.

Dunkirk yes, of course, a miracle aided very much by another miracle that was the act and grace of our good Lord to provide a millpond calm sea allowing our gallant little ships to convey our men to safety.

I had copped a packet myself before arrival at Dunkirk, the papers had published I had been killed and things now are somewhat hazy, confused and I cannot truthfully say anything, but I was in Cherbourg Hospital.

Some 15 or 20 years later the powers-that-be realised I did exist and I received the Dunkirk medal. It's a long story so I'd better wrap up.

D JOHNSON,

No. 4032178 Ex Sgt., King's Acre Road, Hereford.