English painter Charles Cundall had just finished his latest work, The Withdrawal from Dunkirk, and two Scots soldiers were calling it a masterpiece in these times of war. The British Expeditionary Force’s evacuation across the Channel from Dunkirk, from the French coast to England’s harbours, had been celebrated in Great Britain as an extraordinary feat. For Winston Churchill, the courage shown by the “little ships of Dunkirk” was mythological in stature. The German advance into Belgium and Northern France had forced British imperial forces to fall back west towards the Channel; the evacuation began on 27 May, and would last until 4 June. So began the race against time, as a host of troops found themselves at the mercy of the unprecedented speed and power of the Third Reich’s relentless advance. A host of small, privately owned boats set sail from the British coast to assist the overcrowded naval transport vessels and help evacuate as many soldiers as possible. 200,000 British and 140,000 French soldiers were evacuated, with the operation continuing until the last possible moment. Once the fighting entered the streets of Dunkirk, blazing oil storage tanks had sent plumes of black smoke billowing over the coastline. Charles Cundall’s painting paid homage to the small boats that had evacuated the soldiers under these clouds of war.
“As fine a painting as ever I saw,” beamed the first soldier.
“Tis incredible, alright. The way he represents the British Imperial forces…”
“Everything is drawn to perfection,” said the second, observing how the left of the tableau showed the splay of the sand dunes peppered with long lines of khaki, as small boats loaded with troops left the sea front for the bigger ships moored out on the right. He pointed to the busy sea of blue. In the centre, troops formed a queue along a makeshift jetty stretching out to the waiting warships. In the background to the left, huge plumes of black smoke obscured the sky. Warplanes flew amid bursts of anti-aircraft fire, and one plunged toward the horizon.
“It’s a masterpiece, I say. A real masterpiece,” said the second soldier.
“It should go to a museum, if this damned war ever ends.”
“If we manage to turn the tide, you mean. When we’re landing the boats, not taking off in them.”
“That day will come. We’ll land with the Americans.”
“They aren’t in it though, are they?”
“They will be. Just wait. Churchill’s gone to America to tell them all about the little ships. The Americans will come to help.”
“If you say so,” the second soldier sighed.
At the start of World War II, Cundall worked on short-term contracts for the War Artists' Advisory Committee before being given a full-time salaried commission as an Admiralty artist to work on Merchant Navy subjects. Cundall spent time on the Thames, the Medway and in the West Country working on this commission before, in 1941 he was assigned to the Air Ministry. He completed his Admiralty canvases whilst starting work on Bomber Command and Coastal Command subjects. He spent the first half of 1942 in Northern Ireland painting the American troops arriving there and worked in Scotland in September and October of that year. Cundall painted RAF subjects throughout Britain, worked on a major painting of the commemoration ceremony of the Battle of Britain for several months in 1943.
Alan Alfredo Geday