Dunkirk Quotes

We shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, 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.

America’s approach to its opioid problem is to rely on Battle of Dunkirk strategies—leaving the fight to well-meaning citizens, in their fishing vessels and private boats—when what’s really needed to win the war is a full-on Normandy Invasion.

Former corporal Hitler, decorated for his service on the front lines of the Great War, may have believed he knew more about waging war than the Prussian generals. His successes as an infantryman, terrorist, diplomatic bully, and military victor in early 1940 had made him supremely confident. But, in reality, he was out of his depth. He already had failed to easily capture the British Expeditionary Force at Dunkirk in May, 1940 and failed again a few months later in the Battle of Britain despite superior air power. Understanding the enormous potential of a comprehensive geopolitical strategy, such as the Quadripartite Entente, was beyond his capabilities and destroyed by his hatreds. While Germany was still powerful, the misjudgments in 1940 and the failure to conquer Russia in 1941 were taking a toll. Largely unrecognized at the time, the odds were beginning to shift away from Hitler. 

I’m not studying the heroes who lead navies—and armies—and win wars. I’m studying ordinary people who you wouldn’t expect to be heroic, but who, when there’s a crisis, show extraordinary bravery and self-sacrifice. Like Jenna Geidel, who gave her life vaccinating people during the Pandemic. And the fishermen and retired boat owners and weekend sailors who rescued the British Army from Dunkirk. And Wells Crowther, the twenty-four-year-old equities trader who worked in the World Trade Center. When it was hit by terrorists, he could have gotten out, but instead he went back and saved ten people, and died. I’m going to observe six different sets of heroes in six different situations to try to determine what qualities they have in common.

When the wounded were screaming, you dreamed of sharing a little house somewhere, of an ordinary life, of a family line, connection. All around him, men were walking silently with their thoughts, reforming their lives, making resolutions. If I ever get out of this lot... They could never be counted, the dreamed-up children, mentally conceived on the walk into Dunkirk, and later made flesh.

And I realized that this is what it's like to be an adult, learning to pick from a lot of bad choices and do the best you can with that dreadful compromise. Learning to smile, to put your best foot forward, when the world around you seems to have collapsed in its entirety, become a place of isolation, a sepia photograph of its former illusion.

None of them were equipped, trained, or mentally prepared for combat. For the first time in recent history, American ground units had been committed during the initial days of a war; there had been no allies to hold the line while America prepared. For the first time, many Americans could understand what had happened to Britain at Dunkirk.

It was a heavenly summer, the summer in which France fell and the British Expeditionary Force was evacuated from Dunkirk. Leaves were never such an intense and iridescent green; sunlight glinted on flower-studded meadows as the Germans encircled the Maginot Line and overran not only France but Belgium and Holland. Birdsong filled the air in the lull between bursts of gunfire and accompanied the fleeing refugees who blocked the roads. It was as though the weather was preparing a glorious requiem for the death of Europe.

The calm sea was the miracle of Dunkirk.

Then followed an incredible tactical blunder. With the British expeditionary force helplessly retreating toward the sea, but far behind in the race and about to be cut off by Guderian’s massed tanks, the Führer halted Guderian on the River Aa, nine miles from Dunkirk, and forbade the tank divisions to advance for three days! To this day nobody has factually ascertained why he did this. Theories are almost as abundant as military historians, but they add little to the facts. During these three days the British rescued their armies from the Dunkirk beaches. That is the long and short of the “miracle of Dunkirk.

I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat.” He had an instinctive understanding of the fact that the British as a people dislike boasting, and pride themselves not on victory but on being able to “take it.

I am a war worker and a mother. I have two small children.” She glanced down at Ruby, who was with Violet and trying on her scarf. “I want to tell you about their father, my husband. His name was Corporal Anthony Oliver, and he was killed at Dunkirk.

Indeed, after the war, German commanders being debriefed confirmed that they had been ordered to stop about eight miles outside Dunkirk. “My tanks were kept halted there for three days,” said Field Marshal Gerd von Rundstedt. “If I had had my way the English would not have got off so lightly. But my hands were tied by direct orders from Hitler himself.” When one of Rundstedt’s subordinate generals told Hitler in a small meeting that he did not understand why such an order was issued, Hitler replied that “his aim was to make peace with Britain on a basis that she would regard as compatible with her honour to accept.” However,

No American will think it wrong of me if I proclaim that to have the United States at our side was to me the greatest joy. I could not foretell the course of events. I do not pretend to have measured accurately the martial might of Japan, but now at this very moment I knew the United States was in the war, up to the neck and in to the death. So we had won after all! Yes, after Dunkirk; after the fall of France; after the horrible episode of Oran; after the threat of invasion, when, apart from the Air and the Navy, we were an almost unarmed people; after the deadly struggle of the U-boat war -- the first Battle of the Atlantic, gained by a hand's breadth; after seventeen months of lonely fighting and nineteen months of my responsibility in dire stress, we had won the war. England would live; Britain would live; the Commonwealth of Nations and the Empire would live. How long the war would last or in what fashion it would end, no man could tell, nor did I at this moment care. Once again in our long Island history we should emerge, however mauled or mutiliated, safe and victorious. We should not be wiped out. Our history would not come to an end. We might not even have to die as individuals. Hitler's fate was sealed. Mussolini's fate was sealed. As for the Japanese, they would be ground to powder.

So far, her novels had presented linear narratives, all told in the past tense from the third person perspective of the singular protagonist. But here, Athena does something similar to what Christopher Nolan does in the movie Dunkirk. Instead of following one particular story, she layers disparate narratives and perspectives together to form a moving mosaic, a crowd crying out in unison.

memory!” Never, ever forgive the parents that. Remembered our last send-off one drizzly autumn afternoon at Audley End, Adrian was in uniform, Pater clasping him. Days of bunting and cheering were long over—later heard Military Police were escorting conscripts to Dunkirk to deter mass desertions. All those Adrians jammed like pilchards in cemeteries throughout eastern France, western Belgium, beyond. We

Though I am sometimes reluctant to admit it, there really is something 'timeless' in the Tyndale/King James synthesis. For generations, it provided a common stock of references and allusions, rivalled only by Shakespeare in this respect. It resounded in the minds and memories of literate people, as well as of those who acquired it only by listening. From the stricken beach of Dunkirk in 1940, faced with a devil’s choice between annihilation and surrender, a British officer sent a cable back home. It contained the three words 'but if not…' All of those who received it were at once aware of what it signified. In the Book of Daniel, the Babylonian tyrant Nebuchadnezzar tells the three Jewish heretics Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego that, if they refuse to bow to his sacred idol, they will be flung into a 'burning fiery furnace.' They made him an answer: 'If it be so, our god whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of thy hand, o King. But if not, be it known unto thee, O king, that we will not serve thy gods, nor worship the golden image which thou hast set up.' A culture that does not possess this common store of image and allegory will be a perilously thin one. To seek restlessly to update it or make it 'relevant' is to miss the point, like yearning for a hip-hop Shakespeare. 'Man is born unto trouble as the sparks fly upward,' says the Book of Job. Want to try to improve that for Twitter?

On May 26, 1940, Churchill sent an order to Brigadier Claude Nicholson, commanding at Calais. Churchill effectively told him to fight his position to the death, even though it was already untenable, because he was holding up the German advance toward Dunkirk and the British forces escaping from there. Later Churchill could hardly eat his dinner and reported that he felt “physically sick.”14 The force of 4,000 under Nicholson’s command was nearly wiped out. Nicholson was captured and died within two years in a German prisoner-of-war camp.

Asked by an audience member at a public meeting whether he agreed with Hitler, Labour MP Rhys John Davies answered that he hated Hitler – as did the German people. He went on to argue that this would be the last war Britain would ever fight as a great power. In future, he claimed, ‘we should be a sort of vassal state of America.

fascist regime is one where government and big business collude on policy for their own benefit. Their creed is immaterial except as a tool to control the masses. The government controls the means of production in partnership with big business through force, blackmail, regulation, court decisions, the police, or by whatever else works to control people’s lives.

Dunkirk was to hold out until the day on which all the Allied troops in the pocket who could embark to Britain had done so. Ramsay and the British Government initially assumed that no more than 45,000 troops could be saved, but over the nine days between dawn on Sunday, 26 May and 03.30 on Tuesday, 4 June, no fewer than 338,226 Allied soldiers were rescued from death or capture, 118,000 of whom were French, Belgian and Dutch. Operation Dynamo – so named because Ramsay’s bunker at Dover had housed electrical equipment during the Great War – was the largest military evacuation in history so far, and a fine logistical achievement, especially as daylight sailings had to be suspended on 1 June due to heavy Luftwaffe attacks.

The established German Army no longer had the physical power to overcome the uniformed private armies of Left and Right. This weakness was not due to a lack of rifles, machine guns, or artillery, or even to a lack of men, but to a shortage of trucks. The vital role of the truck had already been recognized by some military experts. In England Captain B. H. Liddell Hart greeted the six-wheel truck as a landmark in military evolution.

For the first time it was clear to those who listened to Churchill’s speech—and the whole country listened carefully—that all of the easy presumptions that had shored up appeasement, among them belief in the French Army, the legendary strength of the Maginot Line, the fighting qualities of the BEF, above all the hope that a deal of some kind might be made with Hitler at the last moment, were all swept away by his stark realism, and by the fact, now suddenly clear, that across the Channel a huge, historic battle was being fought—and would very likely be lost. It is no accident that J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings took on its length and dense sweep as an epic in that year, with its central vision of the Dark Lord Sauron’s legions attacking an idyllic land not unlike Britain, as the apparently invincible armies of Hitler swept over one European country after another, taking familiar places that the British, the Belgians, and the French had fought and died for in the 1914–1918 war, ports that were well known to anyone who had ever traveled to “the Continent,” and approached the English Channel itself, advancing swiftly toward the port city of Boulogne, where Napoleon himself had once stood, waiting for the moment to launch 200,000 men at England.

From experience in Boulogne and Calais, Tennant had a good idea of the chaos he might encounter of an army – possibly even two armies – in full retreat. He and Ramsay hoped that the distinctive blue of a naval uniform would be able to assert some authority, when army officers and men were all dressed in khaki battledress. On the way across, his sailors were issued with revolvers, much to their surprise, and were told they were to shoot anyone who tried to jump the queues.  Tennant’s officers were sceptical and told him he needed some additional nomenclature. They decided he should have the letters SNO, for ‘Senior Naval Officer’, on his white helmet. There was no paint available, so he cut out the letters from the silver paper from a cigarette packet, and stuck them on with the pea soup he had just been served for lunch.

Towards the end of the evening, British soldiers had dragged a man to see Tennant, explaining that he was a spy who had tried to smuggle himself into Dunkirk, and should be shot. Tennant was soon clear that the man was exactly who he claimed to be, an RAF officer who had been shot down over German-held territory, had found a bike and had cycled to Dunkirk. On way, he said, he had heard a noise and hidden behind a hedge while the tanks went by. It was then that he realised the panzers were going the wrong way – for some reason, they were driving away from Dunkirk. It was the first indication for Tennant that there might still be a lull in the German advance long enough to collect the bulk of the BEF after all. The problem was that the BEF had not yet reached Dunkirk in force, and it was the other flank protecting their retreat, the one looking east, that was now under threat. The Belgian army was now down to its last auxiliary troops, using First World War artillery from the training college. They told Gort at 10pm that they had agreed to an armistice with Germany, starting in just one hour. It left a 25 kilometre gap that would need to be filled to protect them against the other side of the advancing enemy army.

And the fact that heroism occurred alongside negative behaviors, that it flourished in spite of base human nature, makes it all the more affecting and powerful.

It was a tall order. “We have no stationary, books, typists or machines, no chairs, and few tables, maddening communications,” Ramsay wrote home to his wife, Margaret. “I pray that war, if it has to come, will be averted for a few days.” But Ramsay’s prayers were answered. As it turned out, the Munich meeting ended in a controversial agreement which allowed Hitler to take the Sudetenland, the largely German speaking region of Czechoslovakia. There was “peace in our time”, Chamberlain told the crowds as that welcomed him home at Croydon Airport. So Ramsay and his small staff were stood down again.

While the first ships were arriving in Dunkirk, Churchill and the war cabinet were meeting for the third time that day, and his own struggle with his Foreign Secretary was now joined: they disagreed about whether Hitler’s terms, offered through the Italians, would be outrageous or not. Churchill said they would be worthless. He didn’t feel strong enough to oppose him outright, and tried to delay a decision until they knew what was happening in Dunkirk.

In London that evening, Captain O. M. Watts, proprietor of the School of Sailsmanship in Albemarle Street, heard through the grapevine about the desperate need to navigators and others who knew how to handle boats. He sent messages to all his pupils that there would be no classes the following week, and urged them to report instead to the navy’s London headquarters, based at the Port of London Authority next to the Tower of London. As many as 73 of his 75 pupils did so and were allocated to ship’s lifeboats, some of them still in their city suits and bowler hats.

As well as the fears about fifth columnists and German refugees that obsessed the nation – largely without foundation, as it turned out – there was some accurate and unnerving reporting from France. “The threat to this island grows nearer and nearer,” said the Daily Express. “While the people of Britain wait anxiously for news of their soldiers over the Channel, they must prepare for the onslaught which may come upon their own soil.

After the debacle of the combined allied counterattack on 21/22 May, Gort had concluded that his French allies were unravelling and he therefore had no choice but to disobey direct orders from his French commanders, and the implicit orders from London. He ordered the BEF to make all speed for Dunkirk, and he asked the commander of III Corps, Lieutenant-General Sir Ronald Adam, to make arrangements for a defensive line around the beaches. It was a critical and historic decision. On the face of it, Gort was right. His decision to withdraw made the Dunkirk evacuation possible and meant that Britain could fight on, and that the war would eventually be won. But it relied on an extreme series of strokes of luck and good weather, and there is another view – because Gort’s decision also destroyed Weygand’s plan for an Anglo-French offensive.

Sunday 26 May King George VI and Queen Wilhelmina of the Netherlands, carrying their gas masks, went to a special service in Westminster Abbey. Churchill also arrived, explaining that he could only stay for ten minutes. The government had, in their very English way, managed to avoid an official day of prayer, in case it smacked of desperation, but still knew that the churches around the nation could be relied on to pray pretty fervently. “The English are loath to expose their feelings,” wrote Churchill later, “but in my stall in the choir I could feel the pent up, passionate emotion, and also the fear of the congregation, not of death or wounds or material loss, but of defeat and the final ruin of Britain.

Ramsay had dubbed it Operation Dynamo, partly after the machine which hummed away in his cave providing him with electricity. But it was a well-chosen name, because somehow the nation would have to generate unprecedented energy if they were going to escape. He could look down from the Igloo that morning at Dover Harbour, packed with former cross-Channel ferries, begged, borrowed and stolen from other departments and commands, and mainly manned by civilian crews. There were navy destroyers, cargo ships, minesweepers and MTBs, plus a shabbier collection of Dutch and Belgian coasters and British fishing boats, plus ammunition and stores ships tied up ready for unloading, and four powerful tugs, Simla, Gondia, Roman and Lady Brassey fussing around the harbour mouth, ready to guide the big ships on their way.  Operation Dynamo was given the go-ahead a few minutes before 7pm, though Ramsay had been anticipating the order for some hours.

Because of that, just days after taking office as prime minister, Churchill was preparing for the ultimate emergency – the potential loss of most of the British army. The War Minister Anthony Eden had already announced the formation of the Home Guard, and asked able-bodied men to come forward. A huge number did so. Later that same evening (14 May), the BBC had broadcast this announcement: “The Admiralty have made an order directing the owners of self-propelled pleasure craft between thirty and one hundred feet in length to send all particulars to the Admiralty within fourteen days from today, if they have not already been offered or requisitioned. By this day, five days later, retired Rear Admiral Alfred Taylor had been given powers to collect and pay crews of small craft which might be used by navy, and was gathering them at Sheerness in the Thames estuary. The man in charge of finding the ships, H. C. Riggs, was now sleeping at the offices of the Ministry of Shipping in Berkeley Square, one of the administrative heroes of Dunkirk, and was collecting information on small ships that might be available and holding them in port. The clerks at the Admiralty were printing copies of form T124, which signed people up for 90 days short service in the navy.

What had happened was that the German army had deep misgivings about the western offensive, afraid that success would go to Hitler’s head, as indeed it did, and the failed British offensive had made them nervous. Hitler in particular was worried about whether his tanks would manage to get through the marshy ground to the west of Dunkirk. He was also nervous at the prospect of Gamelin’s inevitable counterattack from the south east. But his senior military advisers were divided about what to do. There were angry meetings at Hitler’s military OKH headquarters, the operational command of the army.  There is some evidence to suggest that Hitler was reluctant to destroy the British, believing that the British empire – like the Roman Catholic church – was one of the pillars which held up the world (his favourite film was Lives of a Bengal Lancer). The controversial stop order was to have enormous implications, preventing Guderian from winning the war that week – it could be said to have been Hitler’s fatal strategic error.

The evacuation of Boulogne as the panzers rolled in threw the weight of attention onto the fate of Calais, the next port in the way of the advancing tanks, moving along the coast from west to east. If Dunkirk was going to be held to take off even part of the BEF, then Calais would have to be held for most of that time. Orders were given to the troops fighting there that it must be held to the last round of ammunition. It was a brutal decision.  In fact, Guderian had already swept past Calais on his way to Dunkirk, leaving the defenders surrounded. Then the unexpected happened. General Ewald von Kleist ordered him to stop at the line of the canal outside Dunkirk.

Then, in April 1940, Hitler invaded Norway and everything changed. Most of Ramsay’s ships were withdrawn from his command, leaving only five working corvettes and seven motor torpedo boats (MTBs). The allied failures in Norway also led to a political crisis which toppled Chamberlain from power on the day that Hitler launched his offensive in the West. When Winston Churchill became prime minister, at this crucial moment in the nation’s history, he feared the worst. “I hope it’s not too late,” he said to his bodyguard after seeing the King. “I very much fear that it is.” Ramsay had been at the heart of operational planning since that day, 10 May, because he was responsible for keeping Lord Gort, the BEF’s commander-in-chief, and his men supplied in Belgium

Someone at the Admiralty mentioned that the Dutch barges known as schuyts, which had flat bottoms and crews of three, might be very suitable for taking people off beaches. As many as forty of them had arrived in the previous weeks from the Netherlands and were in the Thames estuary. Ramsay gave orders to have them requisitioned and manned by crews from the naval reserve.  He also took what turned out to be a critical decision. He ordered 80,000 cans of drinking water and sent them to Dunkirk to special dumps, and set guards on them. It turned out to have a vital significance in keeping the army alive.

To make matters worse, the British sighted French tanks, thought they were German and attacked them. The German commander charged with the task of resisting was a man who would soon be the most famous German general of them all, then known as Major-General Erwin Rommel. By 6pm, Rommel had prevailed, the attack was over and the remaining British tanks – and most of the commanders had been killed – were in retreat

Although they did not know it at the time, the Royal Navy was so complacent about its ability to crack codes that it was unaware that its own naval codes were being read every day by the German navy, and had been since 1936.  What brought Ramsay back from retirement in the Scottish borders was the war scare in September 1938, when the nation came so close to going to war over Czechoslovakia. In the week of what became the Munich Crisis, the navy awoke to the fact that war was imminent and they had not really prepared for it. They searched their lists, including the Retired List, for any officers with the right expertise. Ramsay was known as an effective leader and had made his name as part of the Dover Patrol in the First World War, and the Admiralty needed a flag officer to take charge of the front line port of Dover who was capable of blocking the English Channel to enemy shipping and submarines

When the Third Reich swallowed one Central European country after another, this was attributed to bluff and bluster.

It was the worst picture she had seen in her life. It was worse than the crying baby in Shanghai. ‘Sometimes we need to see why we fight,’ said the burglar vicar gently. ’We need to see what God sees. Then we can understand just a little better His wrath, and His justice, and His love.’ He slipped the photograph from her hand, put it in the folder, slipped the folder from her. She pulled the pillow over her face and wept. She’d not forget that image, not for the rest of her life. She cried herself deaf for the child and for Arthur Vance; for Murray whose Rocket Kid could not save this child, and for William, because she finally understood what it felt like to be eviscerated. She wept that she could not go and die for this boy. ‘I’m utterly useless!’ she screamed into the pillow, and finally came to her defeated senses. A good cry, and she did not feel better. ‘You are hardly useless,’ said the Burglar Vicar. ‘Oh really? I can’t even sit up.’ ‘You can pray.’ ‘How do you know it does any good?’ ‘It’s better than moping, which does no good at all.” She supposed it would be better to pray than to mope. The Shrew said prayer held them to their tasks. She said she saw before her eyes that it worked. ‘Yes, yes — I can pray!

If a repetition of the debacle into which the Lausanne exchange had descended, in which the Anatolian Greeks “mostly carried out a ‘Dunkirk evacuation’ at Smyrna,” was to be avoided, both the areas to be cleared and those into which the expellees were to be sent would need to be under the direct control of an international agency.

The new ‘Dunkirk spirit’ is a kind of hysteria in which the ordinary vicissitudes of life (especially those involving Brits abroad among foreigners) are raised to the level of epic suffering.

home. The entire Luftwaffe seemed to be waiting for him. Bombing and strafing, the enemy planes made pass after pass. Fortunately Sundowner could turn on a sixpence, and Lightoller had learned a few tricks from an expert. His youngest son, killed in the first days of the war, had been a bomber pilot and often talked about evasion tactics. The father now put his lost son’s theories to work. The secret was to wait until the last instant, when the enemy plane was already committed, then hard rudder before the pilot could readjust. Squirming and dodging his way across the Channel, Lightoller managed to get Sundowner back to England without a scratch. Gliding into Ramsgate

For Lord Halifax, Britain was a geographical entity, a place of hills, dales, moors and tors, an H. E. Bates world durable enough to resist whatever brutal regime was in effective charge. For Churchill, Britain was more than this. It was the original model of liberty, a land whose existence depended on freedom and the rule of law. If these were extinguished, her survival meant nothing. And while both views were rosy and sentimental in their different ways, the latter was closer to the truth – and a great deal more humane.

And though it would never be publicly admitted, they must also be brainwashed to adopt his ideology. Pure by blood, stripped of free will, they were going to make Germany great again.

Here are just a few tastes of Dunkirk's messy paradox. Life is always complex, nuanced, and contradictory. We instinctively know this. But too many modern politicians and media sources would have us believe that it is straightforward and monochrome. If one thing alone is remembered about Dunkirk, then let it be this: There was no single story. And this is a theme reinforced by Chris Nolan's film, which takes place in three realms: land, sea, and air. In each of these realms, people were having very different experiences. And they are all equally valid.

Isle of Guernsey, meanwhile, was responsible for picking Flying Officer Ken Newton out of the sea. Newton was an RAF pilot who had bailed out after a dogfight. Like the character Collins in the film, he was helped out of the water by sailors. The sailors were killed, however, by German aircraft raking them with machine-gun fire as they

Gentry crept out. There, stuck in the slime a few feet away, was a huge unexploded bomb. It was about the size of a household refrigerator, shaped like a cigar, with its tail fins sticking up. A large pig slowly waddled across the barnyard and began licking it. On

As if this wasn’t enough, word spread of a new peril. Enemy troops masquerading as refugees were said to be infiltrating the lines. From now on, the orders ran, all women were to be challenged by rifle. What next? wondered Lance Bombardier Gentry; Germans in drag! Fear of Fifth Columnists spread like an epidemic. Everyone had his favorite story of German paratroopers dressed as priests and nuns. The men of one Royal Signals maintenance unit told how two “monks” visited their quarters just before a heavy bombing attack. Others warned of enemy agents, disguised as Military Police, deliberately misdirecting convoys. There were countless tales of talented “farmers” who cut signs in corn and wheat fields pointing to choice targets. Usually the device was an arrow; sometimes a heart; and in one instance the III Corps fig leaf emblem. The

where a party of untrained English Territorials tried to hold them with a barricade of cardboard boxes.

You okay?” she asks. “I think so. You?” “Yeah.” The courthouse looks like it’s burning under the morning sun. The flame-orange shimmer of hot brick forces me to look away. “Why are you still going through with this?” She’s silent, and I contemplate punching myself in the face. If she backs out now I’m going to…I don’t even know what. Slash Chase Dunkirk’s tires. Set fire to the school. Kick a hole in every wall in my house on my way out. “Don’t be an idiot,” she says, opens her door, and climbs out. “Seriously. Why?” “Because I can’t let bad things happen to you, Mo. Now quit being such a pantywaist and marry me.” She opens my door, and I look down in time to see her rolling her eyes. I’m so relieved. She isn’t cowering. She won’t break. “Pantywaist?” I ask. “What are you, seventy?” “Stop stalling.” “I feel like I might throw up,” I say as I get out. “Would this be a good time to tell you I’m not a virgin?” “Would this be a good time to tell you I’m in love with Maya?” “Finally!” she says, and grabs my arm, pulling me toward the building. “Only took you four years to admit it. So prewedding confessions are out of the way. Let’s do this.” “I really think I might be getting the stomach flu.” She ignores me. “This is weird, but right at this second, I feel . . .” She pauses, squinting at me through the blinding sun. “I feel like this is right. You know?” “No. Not at all. I’m about to piss my pants. I believe you remember the last time that happened, and they may or may not have black sweatpants in my size at the lost and found here

codswallop

We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be. 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. AFTER THE EVACUATION FROM DUNKIRK, 1940

69. When You’re Going Through Hell, Keep Going Whether I have been in the middle of a dusty, barren desert, stuck in a mosquito-infested swamp, or freezing cold and wet in the middle of the ocean, there is always one thing I tell myself above everything else (and it is an easy one to remember, even when you are dog tired and not feeling particularly brave or strong). It’s this… …just keep going. JKG. Winston Churchill said it in one of the darkest moments of World War Two, when the outlook was as bleak as it had ever been. On 10 May 1940, the British looked to be finished. They stood alone against the vicious and victorious Nazis. Two weeks after Churchill came to power, France was knocked out of the war, and 340,000 British troops had to scramble to escape over the beaches at Dunkirk. The Germans had absolute control of all of Europe. It seemed impossible that Britain could survive. What was Churchill’s response? ‘When you’re going through hell, keep going.’ It is reassuring to know that the real heart of survival is as simple as this. All you have to do is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Even if you don’t make much progress, you just have to keep going. It is not only the heart of survival, it is also the key to success. It’s really not that different when we face traumas elsewhere in our lives. Bereavement, illness and heartbreak are part of every human life. Sometimes the emotional impact of these events can bring us to our knees. But the way through is always the same: keep going. When we give up, we know our destiny. When we keep going, we earn the right to choose our fate. Ingrain it in your DNA: JKG.

He stood, rubbing his temples while he searched for words. “You’re in the unfortunate position of not only decrypting messages from blocks of meaningless letters into German words but also understanding their content. That’s giving you a very narrow view of events,

May 19th 2031_ Eleven months before_ I opened my eyes to see darkness and the sound of my alarm beeping. 0400 hours. I turned it off and got up. I looked for my glasses on my bedside cabinet and put them on. "Alexa, Good morning roll," I said loudly in the dark room. The lights came on and the curtains opened, the speaker turned on and started playing my Spotify playlist. I slowly got dressed and made myself breakfast. After breakfast, I downed a 500ml bottle of zero coke. I leaned to one side and burped. I looked around my kitchen. The dark marble counter and white cupboards, walls and ceiling matched with each other. I looked outside the kitchen window at the traffic down below. I was about 6 floors high, if you were to jump off from that high, there is a very high chance you might die. And if you were lucky to survive, you would be immobilised from your broken legs and hip and ribs. I turned around and sat on the black leathery sofa and switched on the TV. I looked on Netflix at old World War Two films that I could watch before bed. I scrolled through the list. From 'Dunkirk' to 'Unbroken' to a lot more films. I chose a couple and switched the TV onto the news. The reporter said that there was a knife crime in Redding earlier. I sighed but was relieved that it wasn't me. It is a low chance that I would get murdered by someone or people with knives in England but it's still a possibility. I turned the TV off and looked at my phone. There was nothing new on Discord and nothing new on WhatsApp. I checked my Snapchat and opened a few Snaps from my friends at work. I took a selfie of myself in my apartment not working. I sent it off and was happy that I don't work on

Fourcade shook her head. “It’s not the war that’s evil. It’s the people who conspire to rule the rest of us. All we want is to live our lives without interference. Evil people do anything to gain power, including letting loose the worst of what war brings. We’re left with no alternative but to fight back.

last.

He which hath no stomach in this fight, let him depart… But we in it shall be remembered. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers… For he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brethren…

eyes.

of

Fair-haired with a stocky frame, his normal expression was one of subdued stubbornness. The commandos did not care for him initially. Some had known him at Dartmouth and were put off by comments he made about “pongos”—a derisive term originating from medieval times for soldiers providing security aboard ships. But when his new comrades found him as irreverent regarding admirals, he was forgiven and welcomed into the fold.

We’re making headway on assisting POWs in general. We’ve developed escape maps that are printed on silk paper. They’re thin, strong, and they don’t make crinkling noises. We’re in talks now with the makers of the Monopoly boardgame to put them inside the gameboards and ship them into POW camps via Red Cross parcels and family packages.

know the extent of your

in war, as in prostitution, the amateur is often better than the professional.

Bradley admitted. “The swiftness and magnitude of the victory were mind-boggling. We had been on the point of despair, bracing for a ‘Dunkirk’ at Pusan and/or a disaster at Inchon. A mere two weeks later the North Korean Army had been routed and all South Korea had been regained. MacArthur was deservedly canonized as a ‘military genius.’ Inchon was his boldest and most dazzling victory. In hindsight, the JCS seemed like a bunch of Nervous Nellies to have doubted.

Apology not accepted. None is owed.

The war will end someday. We’ll win it, and then we’ll pick up our lives again.

copasetic,

over twenty years old. Seemingly, whoever occupied the bedsit during the war years enjoyed the Daily Express and the Sunday Pictorial. William flattened out each page, noted the dates, then assembled them in order. ‘We never surrender’, announced the Daily Express as it reported on the evacuation of Dunkirk in the early days of June 1940. Then, later that year, ‘RAF triumphs in biggest air battles of war’.

We never surrender’, announced the Daily Express as it reported on the evacuation of Dunkirk in the early days of June 1940. Then, later that year, ‘RAF triumphs in biggest air battles of war’. Even now, twenty-two years on, William felt a sense of pride as he read the articles. So many emotions were stirred in him as he was drawn to the next article and the one after that. On and on, until it was past midnight and he was certain sleep would never come.

attrit

before. He says the insurgency is about to get out of hand. He believes the Germans have set charges all over the city and are about to blow them. And that’s irrespective of a running street battle between the Resistance and the Wehrmacht.” He handed de Gaulle’s letter over to Bradley, who scanned it and passed it on to Sibert. “He’s sized it up succinctly,” Bradley said, “and I think he’s right.” He gestured to Sibert. “Tell him about your Major Gallois.” Sibert related his conversation with the major. “I was impressed with him and his sincerity,” Sibert began. “You could see that he wasn’t making up anything. He was exhausted, he had his facts straight, and he spoke from the heart.” He took

One man who could understand it very well was the architect of these stop-gap measures: General the Viscount Gort, Commander-in-Chief of the British Expeditionary Force. A big burly man of 53, Lord Gort was no strategist—he was happy to follow the French lead on such matters—but he had certain soldierly virtues that came in handy at a time like this. He was a great fighter—had won the Victoria Cross storming the Hindenburg Line in 1918—and he was completely unflappable.

After Dunkirk, the Luftwaffe had turned its sights onto England. We’d seen the destructive force of German military might playing to universal horror across cinema screens up and down the country, and with our army gone, Hitler and Göring’s eyes turned west to the white cliffs of Dover. Warsaw, Rotterdam… was London next? Leeds, Manchester, Liverpool, Edinburgh? They bombed us relentlessly for a fortnight, even before France signed her official surrender. Night-time bombing raids on London, now called “The Blitz”. Fires in the night sky, women and children screaming, the shriek of the bombers, the deathly silence that briefly, fatefully follows. And then dust, blood, sirens. Noise and smells and screeching yells, panic and terror. The rising panic of a people under fire, who knew they had no army left to defend them when the enemy came.

To the British, Dunkirk symbolizes a generosity of spirit, a willingness to sacrifice for the common good. To Americans, it has come to mean Mrs. Miniver, little ships, The Snow Goose, escape by sea. To the French, it suggests bitter defeat; to the Germans, opportunity forever lost.

Scheid, of Dunkirk, fired three times at his wife. Since he missed every shot, he decided to aim at his mother-in-law, and connected.

eight hundred small boats had loaded 338,000 men into larger ships during the legendary evacuation of Allied troops from Dunkirk, including 500 French officers and 18,000 French sailors, to prevent them from being captured or killed by the Germans.

Gort

Cornelia Corwin, 1907–1944,’ ” she read aloud. “ ‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant.’ You’d think she was some wealthy family’s chambermaid, wouldn’t you—or perhaps a nanny? But she wasn’t. She was one of us. Without Cornelia Corwin there would have been no successful evacuation of Dunkirk. Three hundred thousand men would have perished in vain.” She bent over and gently brushed

Jim Is there no other way? Claire We could just say no to him. Jim Can’t risk that. Collapse of conference, collapse of backbench support, collapse of Cabinet. Collapse of my career. The biggest disaster since Dunkirk. Humphrey I think not, Prime Minister. Jim Name a bigger one. Humphrey The Freedom of Information Act.

She didn't say anything, just a long, quiet "shhhh," as if she had learned that the troubles of the world could be absorbed and deafened by slow, steady wistfulness, and I suddenly understood that she'd been silencing the noise for the past twenty years.

To sum up, our conclusion is that… Germany has most of the cards. But the real test is whether the morale of our fighting personnel and civil population will counter balance the numerical and material advantages which Germany enjoys. We believe it will.

The prospect of one day being hauled out of the canal by yet another old enemy was hard for France to swallow, even more so when British and French defence specialists discussed their exit strategy in case of an overwhelming Soviet attack, and the Brits proposed a massive evacuation via Dunkirk.

Soon after, the Germans attacked and conquered Denmark and Norway and by May 1940 Hitler's troops crushed Holland, Belgium and Luxembourg and invaded France. The English fled at Dunkirk, France was defeated. Paris was formally declared an "open city" and surrendered on June 16, 1940. Paul Reynaud, the premier of France, fled to Bordeaux and requested an armistice on the following day.

My father, Vincent, a rumpled Bohemian who had followed his

He’s shaking in his boots,

he had remained aloof simply because losing friends had become so frequent and painful that distance was a common defense for maintaining equanimity.

Flat as a witch's tit,' Fred muttered,

I love you,” she whispered. “I love you; I love you; I love you.

showed a spirit of persistence that is beyond all praise.

Demure? What does that mean?

found life in the thrall of evil unappealing, the stark cruelty that men inflicted on one another to be incomprehensible.

Josh’s buttocks tightened.

Their deep-throated vibration

AS THE GROWL OF approaching planes grew louder, veteran Seaman Bill Barris carefully removed his false teeth and put them in his handkerchief pocket—always a sure sign to the men on the destroyer Windsor that hard fighting lay ahead.

But let’s face facts: war is led by generals and managed by bureaucrats. Anywhere you find generals and bureaucrats, you find turf wars.

A fascist regime is one where government and big business collude on policy for their own benefit.