The Lion's Disgrace: A First Hand Account of the Fall of Britain
By James R. Minley (Published 1977)
Excerpt:
I recall the evacuation. It was a horrific time for the empire; a horrific one for anybody in South London for that matter. The Stukas screeched like eagles out of hell as they dive bombed on the cities, turning whole blocks to rubble and shooting anything that bothered to get up in the air. The air smelt of smoke and the burning of so much, and a thick fog (so thick you couldn't see more than a few yards before you) seemed to permeate at that time at all hours.
Many of the homes in London had been destroyed by then. Most people shuffled into the ruins, taking cover from the bombs and the rain, and sleeping in the shambles by night, praying to God that they survived whatever may have struck everyone else in the meantime. Many of the other monuments and buildings of the empire had been destroyed beyond recognition by this time as well. However, above the smoke and suit and destruction, St Paul's Cathedral somehow managed to remain unscathed. It gave people hope; a hope that would otherwise never had been their to calm the fears and give a bit of cheer to overwhelming sadness. One could look up at the dome, one's being completing in shambles, and rebuild oneself and their spirit and go on with living....
...
Intelligence told us that the Germans were to invade sometime in fall of that year. The issue then became what to do to fight it back. At that time, the royal army was in shambles and the navy, while great, suffering. I guarded the room the night that they discussed what to do. A few Generals wished to fight to the last man, discussing seriously the possibility of operating guerrilla forces if necessary. But, the issue became inevitably what to do with the royal family and political elite; the people of Britain being secondary to the rulers of the nation, which would show in the final evacuation.
His majesty King George, as well as the Queen were of course to be evacuated (his majesty had to be convinced after thorough disagreement that this should be his course due to a feared inevitable end, and one that would sadly come true). They, followed by Prime Minister Churchill, the members of the House of Commons and the House of Lords, the military heads that could be afforded to evacuate, and then the British commoner...
...
I was on the boat that carried his majesty, the Queen, Prime Minister Churchill, and several politicians from the island. It was a lowly craft for the occupants it was transporting, and if I recall, simply a retrofitted ocean liner. His Majesty and Churchill both looked like men going to a funeral that day. Their faces were aged far beyond their years, and looked on with grim melancholy. As I recall, not a soul uttered more than a few syllables on the craft, and those that stayed in their rooms or the mess stayed still as statues as they sat. The only notion of life existed in their eyes, with which they communicated their thoughts to each other in long, tired stares or quick glances. Most of the time, though, they tried to stare off into nothingness. The Queen was nowhere to be found, but a notable whimper could be heard from her room.
As the boat sailed from port, both Primed Minister Churchill and King George stared out from the open deck of the aft of the vessel. Both men stood near each other by the lining wall at the very edge of the aft, each grasping it with a hand to support themselves. They said nothing, but stared out at the British coast as it grew smaller. As the land disappeared behind the fog, Churchill cast his head down, and turned back to reenter the vessel, knowing that this was the last he would see of his homeland, and the last time he would live to see it free. King George remained, staring into eternity.