The Battle of Britain Five Months That Changed History, May—October 1940 by James Holland (z-lib.org).epub

Indeed, the Germans were providing him with just the opportunity he had
been waiting for.
Amongst the BEF, the 12th Royal Lancers, a forward screening force of
armoured cars, were the first to move, getting going around 10.20 a.m. By 6
p.m., they had signalled over their No. 3 radio set that they had reached the
Dyle. The infantry, however, were not so quick out of the blocks. General
Brooke, the bespectacled, hawkish 56-year-old commander of II Corps, had
spent the morning checking orders and ensuring everything was going to
plan. II Corps was to hold a six-mile stretch of the River Dyle around the
town of Louvain, some twelve miles east of Brussels. To its north would be
the Belgians, to the south I Corps. Below it would be the French First
Army. As far as Brooke could tell, everything appeared to be going like
clockwork – there had been so many alarms and rehearsals no-one was
short of practice – but the start of the move had not been hampered by
enemy aircraft. Although plenty of aircraft had been flying over, it seemed
the Luftwaffe had more pressing targets to bomb that day than the BEF.
And it was a beautifully sunny and warm day. ‘It was hard to believe on a
most glorious spring day, with all nature looking quite its best,’ noted
Brooke, ‘that we were taking the first steps towards what must become one
of the greatest battles in history!’
Amongst those now moving up towards the Belgian border was Stan
Fraser. Stan had joined the Headquarters of the 4th Heavy Anti-Aircraft
Regiment just eleven days before. A 26-year-old Liverpudlian, he had
joined up on the outbreak of war, realizing that he would soon get called up
anyway, and thinking that if he volunteered he might get more of a choice.
His father was already at sea and his younger brother, Babe, was in the
RAF, but Stan preferred to join the army; thinking of his keen interest in the
Scouts, he joined the 1st Army Survey Company of the Royal Engineers.
He had been posted to France before Christmas, but rather than
surveying he had spent his time in a salvage unit instead, work that he soon
found monotonous in the extreme. A bright and single-minded fellow, he
had asked for an interview with his commanding officer, and having
explained his frustration was told he might try to transfer to the Royal
Artillery. On 30 April, the CO had appeared just as Stan was digging a new
latrine. ‘Well, Fraser,’ he said, handing him a War Office communiqué,
‘you are now to become a real soldier.’ Although sorry to bid farewell to his