British 2nd Lt. P.D. Elliman had escaped from the German onslaught in a driving rain. He and his men from the Royal Artillery had fled in a truck they were forced to abandon. Now, on the evening of May 29, 1940, they found themselves jammed with thousands of others on the beach at the northern French coastal town of Dunkirk.
Smoke from burning oil tanks drifted over the city. And German “Stuka” dive bombers, equipped with terrifying sirens, swooped overhead “like a flock of huge, infernal seagulls,” he wrote later.
Suddenly, one made for the spot where he and his men huddled.
“I heard (it) coming down in a vertical dive right on top of me,” he wrote, according to historian Hugh Sebag-Montefiore. “I was now dulled by hours . . . of explosions . . . so that the imminence of death aroused no great feeling of fear . . . The next moment: Crash! Darkness! And then a vision of falling sand . . . I realized I had been missed . . . I could hear the plane climbing away over Dunkirk.”
The World War II drama that unfolded at Dunkirk – scarcely remembered by most Americans – is the subject of a new movie of the same name that opens this week. The product of British director Christopher Nolan, it seeks to compress the eight days of tragedy, desperation and heroism into 107 frantic minutes.