MORE than 300,000 Allied soldiers were plucked from death off the beaches of Dunkirk in a daring rescue in 1940.

Forced to fall back under a German advance, they could retreat no further when they hit the coast.

This week marks the 75th anniversary of the ‘Miracle of Dunkirk’, when Royal Navy destroyers and some 800 smaller craft, sailed to their aid.

Among those on the beach were two friends, who worked as mechanics at J and S Leaver in Blackburn – Frank Nolan and Wilf Thomas, of the Royal Army Ordinance Corps.

Last week, we told the story of how Private Nolan was badly injured during the evacuation; today we tell Wilf’s story, from the memoirs he later wrote of his experience.

“It was May 25 and we were told to pick our best kit and march to Dunkirk, where we could get a boat to Blighty. We were flabbergasted, but then understood our desperate condition.

I went back down the column and spoke to Frank; we had orders to scuttle the lorry which was loaded with five tons of spares and tools.

I drove through a field and into a deep stream, jumping off before it hit the water. It grieved me but I said goodbye to our three-ton fitters’ wagon, my post home and workshop.

2pm. We walked to a chateau, but had to dive for cover, when a Jerry appeared, followed by our Spitfire, who sent it to earth.

7.30pm. We walked till 10.30 taking cover in ditches because of overhead enemy aircraft.

We then crossed fields and ditches and managed to get to a holiday village among the sand dunes where the troops were concentrating for embarkation for home.

It was 4am Monday and we were weary, hungry and footsore, but still game to go on if necessary.”

For two days the men laid in sand holes and Wilf described the enemy bombing the Dunkirk jetty in the distance, then ships,which put up a heavy retaliation.

“Our hospital ship was bombed, then five lovely shaped eggs fell and missed.

“After that day’s events, one destroyer and one cargo ship (troops) were hit and some smaller craft; considering the number of planes and bombs dropped, it was a poor bag.

By Thursday, the beach and hills were teeming with French, Belgian and British troops and there was no food to be had, so we had to scavenge around.

Dotted on the sands, here and there, were A A guns, which were continually banging away at enemy aircraft, who kept persistent flying, gunning and bombing the beach and boats, day and night.

Finally came the order for embarkation, there were cheers and our crowd climbed out of the sand holes like rats.

We marched in single file in the dark and waited by the water edge as shell fire passed overhead.

“We hung on to the rope from a cargo boat – when it came to my turn the water had been up to the top of my legs for an hour.

The tide was turning and a little rowing boat was being carried away, so I waded out to my armpits and held it, till I was helped in with three more of our chaps.

I helped the young soldier row it; he told me he rowed that boat over from the Thames and was rowing troops to larger boats.

We landed on the bigger boat and climbed down the hold, washed, undressed and settled to sleep, though it got very crowded.

We sailed later in the morning and arrived in Margate about 5.30pm.

“We looked sorry sights when we landed but it was a grand welcome. Home again! After food, a good wash shave, change, brush up and sleep I felt my old self. By night time the welcome news that I was safe and near home was known.”