Anyone with more than a passing interest in 20th century history will know that the 10th May 1940 was the day World War Two got ‘hot’, at least in the West, when the Germans invaded France and the Low Countries.
34 years later to the day, on 10th May 1974, there was a rather less memorable invasion – that of a horde of 11 and 12 year old pupils of south Oxfordshire secondary schools who went on a school day trip to Boulogne.
There must have been at least 300 of us urchins. We were bussed down to Reading station, and herded onto a train to Folkestone.
We didn’t have to change trains anywhere, which was no mean feat and I don’t think you could do that today.
The train pulled up right beside the ferry, so I think we must have been at the now disused Folkestone Harbour station.
I recall the ferry we embarked on was, to my 12 year old eyes, a bit old and decrepit even by 1970s standards, and could easily have been pressed into action in 1940 to bring the troops home from Dunkirk.
I don’t really do boats very well, but I don’t recall being seasick this time. Plenty were though, and there were some very green looking kids with suspicious stains on their smart school blazers by the time we got to France and we were let loose.
Let loose in a town where you could buy:
little red bangers -great fun when you’re 12 and very irresponsible
pens with a picture of a shapely lady in a one piece swimsuit. When you turned the pen the other way up, the ‘swimsuit’ slid away to reveal a very naked lady. For a 12 year old, this induced a strange sensation, even allowing for the fact that said naked lady would have been violently sick as she was turned upside down that often
Full-size baguettes, which can make an excellent weapon if wielded correctly
And
A model Tiger Tank
I’m still not quite sure why I decided to spend a good chunk of my meagre pocket money on the tank, when I could have bought many more bangers, naked lady pens, and baguettes, but it won’t be the last impulse purchase I make.
I think the fascination with the Tiger tank started the summer before. Every August, my parents would load the car to the gunwales, with me wedged in the back, and drive down to the Costa Brava.
On one such drive, climbing a hill out of a French village, we swept round a right hand bend and there, to my right, stood an abandoned Tiger.
We stopped and got out. Even nearly 30 years after being abandoned, this thing was still menacing, and I could well imagine the terror of facing one in anger.
I climbed all over it, but wasn’t strong enough at the time to open the turret hatch.
My parents took a picture of me on top of it…
Fast forward 50 years to summer 2023; my son and I were driving through Normandy when I remembered the Tiger tank, so we made a detour.
If you head south out of Vimoutiers and drive up the hill, the tank is now on your left. It hasn’t moved, but the road has been realigned. It’s now a monument, and climbing on it is strictly verboten – it’s all fenced off. It’s been cleaned up a bit and repainted, and there’s an information board about it and how it was abandoned after running out of fuel during the battle of the Falaise pocket. I took a snap of my son in front of it.
Back to Boulogne.
After a couple of hours wandering about and causing mayhem, we made a fighting withdrawal back to the ferry, accompanied by the loud crack of small bangers going off, and chunks of broken baguette lining the streets.
More sickness on the ferry home, and high jinks on the train back to Reading – I suspect a couple of the teachers who supposedly ‘chaperoned’ us had been at the Pastis, as they were quite unlike their persona while in school. And I had my first proper snog. Happily, she didn’t belong to the ‘sick on the boat’ tribe.. And yes, I remember her name, but I’m not going to tell as she’s probably still in therapy..*
* I’ve just re-read the last para.,and feel I should clarify, she wasn’t one of the teachers, or a dinner lady. Although thinking about it, there was one of my teachers I’d happily have snogged.
50 years on, the hefty little metal Tiger tank sits proudly atop a bookcase in the study. It lost its front mounted machine gun very early on, but otherwise remains in good shape, if a little dusty. It always reminds me of our debarquement in Boulogne in May 1974. Happy times…
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