the other barges were beached and grounded now , as the navy had ordered : skipper Harold Miller &apos;s Royalty , Charlie Webb &apos;s Barbara Jean , Harry Potter &apos;s Aidie , the Ena under Captain Alfred Page . Tollesbury was the last of her line : she must survive the carnage . worse , Webb had seen with a prickle of horror the Doris , sinking rapidly and abandoned , drifting on the remorseless tide towards the Nieuport shore . his own brother-in-law , Captain Fred Finbow , was the skipper . as in a mist , Webb saw one hope of salvation : the old Thames tug Cervia , under Captain William Simmons , was moving in to take them in tow . now a fresh problem arose : no sooner was the tow-rope secured to the Tollesbury than Simmons , anxious to put Dunkirk behind him , went ahead fast . it was too much for the barge . with an unearthly splintering the tug tore her bit-head - the stout wooden casing of the windlass - clean out by the roots . again Tollesbury was adrift on a sea burnished red with the blood of men whose voyaging was over . the day was marked by such courage . at Bergues , key strong-point of the western perimeter , the loyal regiment had stood fast for two days , but as the line contracted , artillery pressure on the old walled town stepped up . to man the stout seventeenth-century ramparts Lieut.-Colonel John Sandie had only 26 officers and 451 men ; for the rest of the garrison were stragglers doing their best &amp;hellip; a transport company of ex-London bus-drivers who &apos;d indented for a musketry instructor &amp;hellip; the Rev Alfred Naylor , deputy Chaplain general , holding one gate of the town for three days with a mixed bag of chaplains . barred from active combat by their cloth , Naylor and his cadre did sterling work questioning suspect fifth-columnists . and the civilians weighed in too . at Steene , west of the town , General von Kleist &apos;s tanks were advancing steadily , but Mayor Jean Duriez , an industrial alcohol manufacturer , turned the faucets of his ten vast stills to send two million gallons of raw spirit gushing across the already flooded land . as Duriez watched a chance artillery shell , exploding like a thunderclap , transformed the waters to a raging sea of flame - like a gigantic planter &apos;s punch . in fascinated dread Duriez saw two of von Kleist &apos;s tanks trapped by the torrent , glowing white-hot as the holocaust engulfed them . the advance from the west was stalled . but by Saturday midday the Loyals could no longer hold Bergues itself . already the troops dug in on the ancient ramparts sweltered from the heat of burning buildings - the smoke so dense even dispatch riders groped through the town on foot , mouths and noses bound with damp cloths . by noon the exposed canal bank beyond the northern ramparts had become the Loyals &apos; last stockade - with men toppling like ten-pins under devastating artillery fire . now in Captain Henry Joynson &apos;s company the troops were so tired the officers had to haul them across the road like sacks of coal . then by a miracle the wind changed - impelling a black choking banner of smoke from the burning town into the heart of the German lines . even von Kleist &apos;s tanks could no longer advance : the few that did try , foxed by the smoke , tilted disastrously into the canal . the infantry advance held off - though not until 9 p.m could the Loyals withdraw , doubling between waves of mortar fire towards Dunkirk . many , by order of Major-General Harry Curtis , had left their rifles propped in position . bound with a contraption of string , weights and slow-burning candles , they would keep firing at intervals , creating the illusion of a tough task force still on the alert . three miles to the east the east Lancashire regiment had it as bad ; with all ammunition spent , their 1st battalion fell back towards Dunkirk , only a forty-strong force under Captain Harold Ervine-Andrews , to cover the thousand-yard front as they withdrew . a thick-set , heavily-built Irishman , Andrews was venerated by his men for his genially informal manner , though senior officers were less sure of him . on pre-war service in India and China his feats had become an eccentric legend - walking fifty-six miles for a &amp;pound;5 bet , shooting a black buck in the jungle , then carrying it home draped round his shoulders . all that night Andrews and his men crouched under annihilating shellfire until it seemed the end was near . already they had been blasted from their farmhouse quarters ; now the Dutch barn to which they &apos;d retreated was in flames , too . as they doubled behind a hedge , sparks and blazing straw eddying , they sighted the German infantry moving in a spaced dangerous line through growing dusk . Andrews exhorted his men : look , there are 500 of them , maybe thirty-six of us - let them get a bit closer and then here goes . his whistle shrilling , Andrews leapt forward , weaving towards the advancing hordes like a footballer moving in to tackle . as the howling mob of east Lancs followed at his heels the Germans fell back , seeking cover . scrambling to the roof of a barn with a rifle , Andrews picked off no less than seventeen Germans - then seizing a bren-gun , he lunged forward again . Private John Taylor , in the thick of it , recalls : it was a right do - when the ammo ran low we kicked , choked , even bit them . after fifteen blood-stained minutes the Germans fell back in confusion . the line was held - but Andrews after sending his wounded to the rear , was down to eight men now . resolutely , at the head of his little band , he struck across-country splashing for a quarter of a mile through the flooded fields towards Dunkirk . he was to win the first Victoria cross awarded to any officer in world war two . on the beaches , the savage fury of the attack had one result . by 1 p.m - six hours after the raid began - every man and woman still left had one resolve : the only thing that mattered now was the lives of others . jog-trotting along the eastern mole , Colonel Sidney Harrison &apos;s 6th Lincolns had their own wounded slung like sacks over their shoulders - but they stumbled on , negotiating yawning four-foot gaps somehow , loading them on to ship after ship . in the shadow of the mole , Gunner Albert Collins saw an officer bent on a task to tax Samson : a rope bound like a yoke round his forehead , he swam valiantly for a Dutch schuit , towing a Carley float with six men aboard . Lance-Bombardier George Brockerton took risks as great as any he &apos;d taken as a wall of death trick cyclist : finding eighty-one men trapped in a bombed cellar he worked for two hours to free them with hammer and chisel , using French hand-grenades in lieu of gelignite . oblivious to the crash of bombs , he helped out every man , then , to keep their peckers up , did some conjuring tricks . Private Walter Allington of the Lincolns was in his element too . already he &apos;d spent one whole night trying to help a man crazed by a head wound &amp;hellip; then , taking a vest and shirt , he &apos;d plugged a terrible hole in another man &apos;s shoulder . now , despite the writhing pains in his abdomen , he saw a bullet aimed at the diving Stukas had gone too low . a long way off , a man had fallen , the bullet lodging in the small of his back . somehow , though other men were nearer , Allington was again first to help - but the big gentle man had used his only field-dressing on that Belgian cripple . working doggedly on his own , he found an abandoned ambulance , checked it was in running order , and loaded the man aboard . then , despite the swooping Stukas , he drove until the Channel water was lapping over the bonnet . standing on the roof of the truck , he flagged a destroyer &apos;s whaler to ferry the man away . everywhere men plumbed unsuspected depths in themselves . Brigadier Evelyn Barker was at the water &apos;s edge when a shell dropped close , shattering a soldier &apos;s arm so that it hung by a thread . without more ado Barker borrowed a knife from his brigade Major and honed it on a carborundum stone as coolly as a butcher . lacking narcotics , he first gave the man a nip of cherry brandy before taking his arm off at the shoulder . then improving a tourniquet with handkerchief and pencil , Barker and his aide carried their patient along the beach on a mackintosh to place him in a doctor &apos;s charge . able seaman Samuel Palmer , with twenty years &apos; naval service , did n&apos;t know a crankshaft from a camshaft but he took the motor yacht Naiad Errant over with a crew of three - then after losing them took her back with nine thankful Tommies , helping out the one engine still operative with paddles fashioned from shattered doors . Stoker David Banks from Sheerness did even better &amp;hellip; making seven trips as skipper of the motor-boat Pauleter &amp;hellip; doing his trick at the wheel &amp;hellip; manning the bren-gun when the Stukas dived &amp;hellip; rescuing 400 single-handed . off the same beaches Commander Charles Lightoller , former second officer of the Titanic , was packing them in aboard his yacht Sundowner : his biggest kick was the stupefaction of Ramsgate &apos;s naval authorities when they found his 60-footer had brought back 130 men . the tiros were well to the fore . Captain Paddy Atley of the east Yorks found the barge Ena grounded where Lemon Webb &apos;s flotilla had lain , took her back with forty men , on the strength of five sailing holidays in Norfolk . it took fourteen hours , including a surprise return to Dunkirk , but they made it finally . Captain David Strangeways of the Duke of Wellington &apos;s regiment hit on another barge , appropriately named the iron Duke . naked save for the skipper &apos;s doormat , which he wore like a sarong , Strangeways brought back twenty-six men , navigating with compass and school atlas . to the doctors , life-saving was a dedication , but it was an uphill fight now . in Private William Horne &apos;s ambulance unit the only medication to deal with searing phosphorous burns was a bottle of acriflavine tablets diluted in water . at Rosendael , the dressings were all but exhausted ; Major Philip Newman , the surgeon , did one last amputation by torchlight , then gave up . the ambulance unit at La Panne had packed up , too , after a record 2,000 operations in one week , but many doctors carried on as and how they could . where equipment was lacking , they improvised . Captain William MacDonald , in a dugout in the dunes , sterilised wounds with abandoned petrol . Captain Joseph Reynolds , lacking the Thomas splints used for compound fractures , secured fractured femurs with rifles . and scores cut off from their units or families lent a ready hand &amp;hellip; slicing up battledress trousers to make bandages &amp;hellip; ransacking abandoned homes for sheets &amp;hellip; pretty Solange Bisiaux , a French doctor &apos;s wife , wringing out blood-stained bandages in salt water &amp;hellip; other men working eight to a relay to carry stretchers on board the ships . round every ambulance and aid-post Sapper George Brooks noted the same hushed aura : the undercurrent of grief that moves like a wind when a coffin is carried from a house . injuries or no , some men were determined to make the journey home . Lieutenant J P Walsh of the Loyals , knocked down by a lorry near Bergues , still plodded the five miles to Dunkirk : later the surgeons found his pelvis was fractured . Captain John Whitty of the royal west Kents , wounded in the stomach , slogged some of the fifty miles from Fl&amp;ecirc;tre , where his battalion was trapped , then , at last gasp , hailed a passing motor-cyclist and rode pillion to the beaches . bundled into an ambulance and driven to the mole , Whitty found the wait tedious ; he climbed out , exhorting other wounded to follow him , and got them all passages on a home-bound boat . there was the same spirit on the ships . aboard the trawler Brock , a Surgeon-Lieutenant coped with grievous burn cases and a shortage of tannic acid by filling a zinc bath with tea and immersing his patients up to their necks . the destroyer Whitehall &apos;s doctor , Surgeon-Lieutenant David Brown , went so swiftly to aid the wounded aboard the minesweeper Jackeve that he left his instruments behind . nothing loth , he amputated with the engine-room &apos;s hacksaw , sterilised with blazing chloroform , the ex-trawler &apos;s fish hatch serving as operating table . 