Le Paradis - 27 May 1940

EDWARD SCALLON'S STORY from B&C 84 Jun 95
After the publication of a letter in the EDP in May 1995 concerning the massacre at Le Paradis, Mrs Anne Galpin of Holt told this story for the first time.
'I was 6 years old and in June 1940, about the time of Dunkirk, my grandmother and her youngest daughter (my mother's sister) stayed at our home in Newcastle-On-Tyne. It had been arranged that in an emergency the family would meet there as it was the closest to the town centre and the railway station. We were waiting for news of my Uncle, Edward Scallon, a Chaplain to the forces serving with the BEF.
I was sleeping in a large double bed between my Grandmother and my Aunt. I awoke in the middle of the night to hear voices; the light was on, the fire burning and there were people in the room. My parents were sitting by the fire and my Uncle was sitting on the end of the bed, very oddly dressed. He was wearing a rough khaki shirt and navy blue socks given him by a Dutch sailor. I discovered later that his wet uniform was in a bag in the kitchen.
My Uncle was telling how he had got home. As everyone was listening to him they did not notice that I was also listening otherwise, I am sure, he would not have told this story.
He and his men had been waiting for three days to be taken off the beaches north of Dunkirk. One night during this time a Sergeant and another soldier from a different Regiment came looking for a Roman Catholic Padre who spoke French and/or German. They wanted my Uncle to go with them to see someone. My Uncle's fellow officers did not want him to go as they did not know the sergeant. But he went.
They walked for about three miles, he thought, along dunes then inland a little. The sergeant and the soldier would tell him nothing. At last they arrived at a farm or cottages where an officer greeted my Uncle and thanked him for coming. They took him to the back of the buildings where a man was lying covered with sacks. The officer said the casualty was a German Captain they had found trying to reach the British lines. He left my Uncle with the man.
They talked and the Captain said he came from Berlin and was married with a young son. He and his men had captured some British soldiers and were keeping them in a barn. Some SS officers had arrived and had ordered him to tell his men to shoot the British prisoners. The Captain had protested and refused. When he continued to refuse the SS Officer ordered some of his SS men to deal with him.
The sacks were turned back.
My Uncle said, 'His chest was cut to ribbons by bayonet thrusts. Only his tunic was holding it together.'
The SS had left him for dead so he managed to get away.
My Uncle gave him the last rites and they talked a little more. The Captain was worried about his wife and son in Berlin in case there were any reprisals taken for his actions. My Uncle left him and made his way back to his own unit.
Uncle Eddy wanted to report the incident to someone but when he reached England there was no debriefing. I do not know if he ever managed to report the episode.
Whether this refers to the men of the Royal Norfolk Regiment or to others I do not know. I was six years old but have never forgotten his story. Like other stories told in the war we never discussed it, particularly as I was not supposed to have heard it. Uncle Eddy died in 1966 and my parents, Aunt and Grandmother are also now dead.
This was his story of how an enemy also lost his life trying to protect his prisoners.'

A YOUNGER EX-ROYAL NORFOLK VISITS LE PARADIS from B&C 85 Dec 95
WA ' Bill' Dudley wrote from Surbiton, Surrey:
In 1946 aged 18 I was called to serve in the army and reported to Nelson Barracks. After 10 weeks training and leave pending draft I was posted to the 1st Bn The Royal Norfolk Regiment in Newhaus, Germany. While there we escorted 300 German prisoners to Harburg, 14 km outside Hamburg, to await trial for War Crimes. I finished my service a week before the Berlin airlift.
In 1994 I decided to write to Norfolk to trace 2 former Royal Norfolk comrades who had gone to Korea, Charlie Pottle and Ray Fretwell. Using addresses received from Maj William Reeve, Capt Arthur A Hammond (d 2002) in Kings Lynn and Bill Seymour in London, they were asked about my old mates but they had no record of them. Then Bill Seymour asked if I had read 'The Vengeance of Pte Pooley'. Reading it stirred my memory and I thought back to the days of my training in Norwich when we were informed that several of our men were massacred by SS troops in 1940 on the way back to Dunkirk. I realised that they were mainly Norfolks that had died.
So in 1995 I had this overwhelming desire to go to France and pay my respects to these dead pals of the 2nd Battalion, The Royal Norfolk Regiment, I never knew. In 1940 I was a 12 year old but for me they were brothers in arms. On 1 July 1995 I travelled to France with a son-in-law to make what was for me a pilgrimage.
We eventually arrived at Le Paradis in the evening, visited the church and went to the rear and 'It truly is a place which is a corner of a foreign field which is forever England'. Because the cemetery was part of a field, the corner of which has been turned into a hallowed spot, a great peace is felt as one contemplates each grave. I said a prayer for these souls in their last earthly resting place, took some photographs and made my way to the site of the massacre. Spending a few moments trying to come to terms with their circumstances we walked in the garden where it happened and noticed a plaque in the wall telling of the dreadful event all those years ago on a summer's day.
We gathered from people we spoke to that the Louis Creton family are all dead now - father, wife, 2 daughters and son Victor. I came home with my emotions all over the place but satisfied I had done the right thing in making this journey.
As a postscript, I would add that the perpetrator could have been among those 300 we escorted to Hamburg all those years ago as young Royal Norfolks of the 1st Bn, The Royal Norfolk Regiment.

Afternote by Webmaster: See B&C 87 Dec 96 about Charlie Pottle and Ray Fretwell in Korea

MY SECOND VISIT TO LE PARADIS from B&C 88 Jun 97 by Bill Dudley.
After reading my article, Ernie 'Strips' Farrow invited me to the wreath-laying ceremony on 1 June 1996. My son-in-law and I caught the 5.30 am ferry to Calais and drove through the countryside to Bethune and on to the outskirts of Le Paradis. I changed into my parade clothes of white shirt, Royal Norfolk tie, blazer, dark flannels and highly polished shoes. In the village we followed some veterans on foot until a car stopped and gave us a lift to the site of the Massacre where the parade and ceremonies were to start. Quite a number of standard bearers were waiting in the paddock. Each tree represented a soldier killed in the massacre. In the background could be heard appropriate music from a piper in ceremonial dress. He was English but had served with a Scots Regiment during the war. The son of the Battalion Commander who also died in that infamous act of 1940 had flown over from Canada to be there. Bugler Ernie Leggett, who had been a member of the 2nd Bn in 1940, played Last Post and Reveille in an uncertain manner. It made it all the more poignant as he had known many of the fallen. It was an emotional experience for all in attendance and many had moist eyes. Ernie then laid the poppy wreath and he too was a bit subdued at that moment. We formed up on the road to march to the church, the Standard Bearers led by Dick Fiddament, the Parade led by Ernie Farrow, the Lestrem Band leading. At the church several people spoke. Among them was a retired Royal Scots Fusiliers Major who had served in the area in 1940. Arthur Brough, formerly 2nd Bn, laid a wreath on the French War Memorial. We proceeded to the cemetery at the rear of the church, the last resting place of the fallen. Last Post and Reveille were sounded and wooden crosses placed at the foot of the memorial by those to whom it was most personal. The band then played 'God Save the Queen' and the Marseillaise. Introduced at the school to the Headmistress, I handed over a bag of pens, pencil erasers and sweets. It seems this is a highlight for the children for they sang to us in English and in French. It was quite touching. Ernie introduced me to his French family. They were very friendly to me. The father had been responsible for Ernie’s safety while he was on the run. It was time to go. We drove out to Wormhout where the massacre of approximately 90 men of the 2nd Bn The Royal Warwickshire Regt took place the day after the massacre at Le Paradis, on 28 May 1940. Then home.

LE PARADIS 25-27 MAY 1940 by Bob Brown (Dec 05)
In B&C 104 Jun 05 was a summary, by his granddaughter Sonia, of Bob Brown's escape from Le Paradis. Click here for it

Here is Bob's full account:
Our Bn HQ was ‘Duries Farm’ on the outskirts of Le Paradis. The date was 25 May 1940. B Coy was on the right and on their right was the 1st Bn Royal Scots. B Coy was defending the bridge and the village of Petit Cornet Malo. On the left of B Coy was A Coy, then D Coy, C Coy and then the Lancashire Fusiliers. The battalion front was 5000 metres long and all the companies were by now very low in numbers, and this left no reserve. All day and that night the enemy tried to cross the canal and we were losing quite a few men killed and wounded. The German losses were also mounting up but they must have out-numbered us by about 5 or 6 to one. All day on the 26th was the same but apart from a small party of the enemy getting into the woods between B Coy and the Royal Scots the line was held. About 2 o’clock in the morning of the 27th, a hot meal was brought up to us by Sgt Gilding who was acting CSgt. It was fairly quiet until 3.30 am, then they opened up with artillery and mortars and attacked in force. I was on the switchboard in the Signal Office in the cellar of the house and messages soon began pouring in to say all companies were fighting desperately. B Coy was fighting hand-to-hand for every house and building in the village and they were the first to be over-run and out of touch with Bn HQ. Soon all available men at Bn HQ were ordered out to take up defensive positions. I handed over the switchboard to ‘Porky’ Ward who was on the radio to Brigade. The Adjt, Capt Long, sent me forward to a line of trees and told me to give him advanced warning of the enemy coming between the forward companies and Bn HQ. I was there for quite some time and then moved back a bit to some buildings at the crossroads which was more secure. There I found LCpl Garner of the Regtl Police and it made me feel better to be with someone else. He went and looked through a door towards Bn HQ then called me over and pointed to a German motor cycle and side car, fitted with a machine gun coming from behind us. We quickly lined up our rifles. He said: ‘You take the one in the side car and I’ll take the one on the bike.’ We both fired together and the bike ran into the ditch. Our next move was to get back to the farm and let them know the enemy was behind them. The opposite side of the road was an estaminet with the door open, so running faster than I had for some time we dashed across the road and got inside safely. It was easy to crawl along the hedge and when we passed the bike in the ditch we could see they were both dead. I reported to the Adjt and he told me to take up a position in the barn. The barn was made of galvanised iron riddled with bullet and shrapnel holes. I knocked a hole through the back, then, getting a bale of straw, rested my elbows on it in a good firing position. Mortar bombs were coming over and landing in the open space between the house and the barn. One exploded and caused several casualties and I thought I was hit, but it was only stones and rubble thrown into the barn. John Hagen was next to me and said: ‘Come on, we’ll find somewhere safer than this.’ At the end of the barn was a small brick shed with a tile roof so we went in there and knocked bricks out to make loopholes. Whenever we saw the enemy creeping along the ditches or dodging behind a hedge we opened fire. They dropped from sight but that didn’t mean they were hit as a near miss made you get down. Bill was in a weapon pit in front of the barn with a Bren gun. When he fired on automatic the Germans threw over more mortar bombs, so we shouted to him to fire single shots only. All through the day we were attacked and the house was hit several times until it was on fire. The wounded were brought up from the cellar and laid where we could find a safe place. Dick Priest was one of them, hit in the leg. When I gave him a fag he said: ‘Don’t let the Jerries get me Bob.’ I told him I wouldn’t let that happen, but as things turned out there was nothing we could do about it. His grave is in the cemetery at Le Paradis. Charlie High was using the range finder to take the range where the mortar was firing from when he suddenly spun round and fell to the ground, hit in the shoulder. When he got up he was most annoyed and said so in a soldiery manner. This was now the middle of the afternoon. CSM Whitlam came round with the rum jar and said: ‘We might as well have this before the Jerries get it.’ I had nearly half a mug and couldn’t see for a while as the water streamed out of my eyes. Tom Warren was in a slit trench to the right of me and every time he fired he said: ‘And another Redskin bit the dust.’ I called to him and asked him if he was cutting a notch in his rifle butt and he replied: ‘Yes but there’s not much room left now.’ Morale was very high and there was no thought of the outcome. Fred Clear and a few others that were left of A Coy got through to us and took up a position along a wall after putting up bales of straw behind them to stop the blast of bombs and shells. Sgt Wood went through the door onto the road and heard a motor bike, thinking it was our DR coming back, but it was a German. He drew his revolver and killed our Sgt before he could move.
As late afternoon was approaching things were getting desperate, men were getting killed and wounded and the ammunition was almost finished. The CO, Maj Ryder, got onto Brigade by radio and told them the position and he was told to hold on as long as possible and after dark make his way north. After another 2 hours there was no hope of lasting until dark as at the end of May it didn’t get dark until late. The CO now made the decision to cease fighting and said that if any man thought he had a chance of getting away he could do so. Bill, John and myself thought that if we kept in the smoke from the burning house we might make it. We went out of the side door, into a ditch beside the road. The remainder went out of the cowshed door onto the field. At first they were met by a hail of bullets then at the second attempt the Germans came rushing out shouting. They were knocked about by rifle butts and kicks, then taken across to some more buildings and searched. After a while they were marched across a road to a farm and as they marched alongside a building two machine guns opened fire and mowed them down. The Germans then went along and shot anybody that moved. By a stroke of luck Bert Pooley and Bill O’Callaghan, although wounded, survived underneath and eventually crawled away. Their story can be read in ‘The Vengeance of Private Pooley.’
When we dropped into the ditch we found the Adjt and the MO were there. Peering over the top of the ditch ready to get away, we found we were too late, the enemy was already coming up the road. John took aim with his rifle but the Adjt said: ‘Don’t fire Hagen.’ If he had they would have just opened up and killed us all. The MO got out first so they could see his Red Cross. There were loud shouts and cries of ‘Hande Hoch’. We helped the Adjt out as he was wounded and not understanding German put our hands up. At this moment I could have cried. We had thought it possible to be wounded or killed but never taken prisoner. We were searched and marched down the road to their HQ and not badly treated apart from a few knocks and kicks. I had about 100 cigarettes in my pockets that Gordon Salmon, our DR had brought back, and these they let me keep. My wallet was full of photos of my family and they also let me keep them. That night we laid at the roadside, wounded included, and there was a thunderstorm and we were soaked through. Next morning, with nothing to eat, we were marched away carrying our wounded until they were put onto transport. That day we met Pedlar again, one of 5 men left from D Coy. Also the same day we met Capt Gordon, who had been taken in the village with the Royal Scots. I gave him a packet of Woodbines as he hadn’t got a smoke. We were taken as far as Bethune and that night slept in the prison. The cells were crowded and the Germans used the bayonets to get us up the stairs and inside. Next morning, still without food, we marched away and during the day the French women ran out with bread and buckets of water. I remember one day sitting with my trousers round my ankles at the side of the road, when a French woman ran over and tucked a loaf of bread under my arm. All I could say was: ‘Merci Madame.’ Some nights we slept in fields and some nights in French Barracks. There were so many of us that some were always outside. If we had not been so dazed there was a good chance we might have made our escape but we had no idea of what was happening or which way to go. Eventually we were put onto a train, a French one with carriages, and that day Pedlar pinched the guards’ rations so we had something to eat. We went through Luxemburg and into Germany. Trier was the first town and every window was hung with a Swastika flags and I shall always remember John saying: ‘The Curse of the Swastika.’
We marched up the top of the hill to a camp, once more slept in the open and next day marched down again. Put into cattle trucks, as many as would go in, the doors were locked and we were on our way to somewhere in Germany.

(Thanks Sonia for typing it. Ed.) B&C 105