Courageous women saved his life. One, much later, became his wife!
My name is Rebecca Virginia Hilton-Hodgkiss. My father was Frank Hilton-Hodgkiss and my mother Margaret Mary Mullineux. Both my grandfathers fought in the First World War, and my uncles in the Second World War. This is a story about one of my uncles, Edwin Mullineux and how he met his wife after escaping and hiding from the German army in World War 11. He now lives in America, aged 96. Like him, many of the elderly have experienced the rigours of war. Some talk freely, while others are reluctant to bring back memories of those difficult periods in their lives. Many of these stories of bravery and challenge go untold.
Edwin Mullineux was born in Congleton, England, the eldest of six children. Initially uncle 'Teddy' planned to enter the priesthood. However, at the age of sixteen he made a decision that altered the course of his life. In 1934, he joined the army and eventually became a member of the Royal Regiment, guarding Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle and the Bank of England. When war broke out he was posted in northeastern France. When the Germans attacked Belgium on May 10th, 1940 his regiment was sent to the front lines. "It was a terrible winter there, and I contracted the flu," he recalled. "I got separated from my battalion and was transferred to another unit". Soon he found himself in Dieppe, France, guarding docks filled with French and English soldiers wounded in battle, as well as many German wounded prisoners. A bombing raid by German Stukas sank the ships and eventually my uncle and his crew, unable to stop the attack with only a 'Bren gun'- similar to large machine gun- found themselves retreating to nearby woods. When the Germans bombed the woods, they became further separated from their detachment. A short time later they were captured by the Germans. "We weren't given much to eat, occasionally the Germans would throw us loaves of black bread that we had to fight for to nourish ourselves. One day, late in the afternoon, we were marched next to a cornfield that was tall in crops. Myself and a few others managed to escape by running into the cornfields without being seen". Speaking French was to be helpful in the following days as he trekked his way across Belgium, which was now fully controlled by the Germans. One man he met outside a small village spoke only Flemish, however, they managed to communicate. The man took my uncle into his home, hiding him until later that evening when two women came to meet him. One was a middle aged mother. The other was her nineteen year old daughter. The mother was Belgian, but her daughter had been born in Long Beach, as her mother had lived in the United States since 1919, often returning to Belgium to settle family business. Uncle Teddy told me she was called Bertha and she was connected to a small band of freedom fighters made up of local townsfolk. The freedom fighters tried to help downed Allied pilots and escaped soldiers by providing them with food and clothing, frequently offering a nights stay in their sheds, barns or attics.
Bertha and her mother took my uncle home with them and hid him via a disused access in their bedroom that led to a small attic. The Germans, ever suspicious of the storefront that she and her mother operated from the front of the house where they lived, kept an eye on them and the Gestapo made frequent searches of their home. After three weeks of recovery from yet another illness Uncle Teddy left the security and protection of their home to relocate his unit. He told of many soldiers and pilots that came to the house during that time. "American, English, French, African, Indian, and even Belgian soldiers, were all fed and given donated clothing from the farmers in the area, then sent on their way. When it came for me to leave, I wanted to give Bertha a kiss goodbye, but her mother stood behind her in the doorway, with arms crossed, and I thought better of it". Edwin had developed a real affection for Bertha so he kept her address in mind anticipating a future when he might meet with her once more. Eventually he returned to his unit to fight. However, once again he was captured. Again he managed to escape. During his escape he was badly wounded in his leg. Unable to walk and suffering with pneumonia he was captured by the Germans and taken to a small concentration camp just a few miles from Auschwitz. While interned he started writing to Bertha, and sent his letters through the Red Cross, always aware of her role as a resistance fighter. My uncle continued to write until after the war when Bertha eventually joined him in England where they got married. They moved to the United States in 1948 after his last tour of duty in the reserve was over. After the war he received recognition for his service as a Grenadier Guard during the war, with the Kings appreciation. Aunt Bertha received recognition from the Bureau of Research for Help Given to Escaped Allies in Brussels, Belgium, for her help given to the Allied Service personnel during the German Occupation from 1940 through to 1944. My uncles story is so much more. His experiences at the various camps he was assigned to were horrendous. However, his courage never failed, nor his humour. A book could be written about his complete exploits, and the underground story of Bertha's encounters. My aunt kept a diary of her days in the resistance. A spiral notebook, 57 pages in all. She passed away on July 4th, 1991.
As a child and teenager I regularly visited my aunt and uncle. Often they returned to stay with my mother and father in England. I have four cousins in America. Patty, a few years older, inherited the diary her mother, my aunt, kept. It is a fascinating read - my aunts courage was exceptional as was that shown by my uncle.