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at the Ardennes forest, which French advisors pointed out was virtually impregnable anyway, the line was an unbroken barrier between the hostile Germans and France.
    On 10 May the amassing Germans made a sortie against the line and were easily driven back. No one realised that this was a diversion and a second German army was marching through that impenetrable Ardennes forest, and, worse still, that German forces had invaded neutral Belgium and the Netherlands. The line defences along the Belgian border, always less substantial than the rest of the line due to the high water table, which risked flooding, now fell under the German assault.
    The large forts were simply overrun. On 19 May all 107 members of one French crew were killed defending their post when the German 16th Army pummelled them with heavy artillery. Within days of the initial assault Germany was pushing into France and the Maginot Line had become pointless. By 24 May the British Expeditionary Force had been separated from the French Army and had fallen back to the port of Dunkirk with the Germans breathing down their necks. No place evokes a greater sense of tragedy and heroism. The British were sitting ducks at Dunkirk and it was only due to the Germans holding back that they were able to evacuate.
    The French were in similar disarray. Many soldiers began to openly desert and even those that continued fighting soon found themselves being forced to withdraw. Among them was Forest, who was stunned to find that the embassy staff had already left Paris, including the air attaché who he had hoped to get orders from. He saw that there was no choice but to follow his superiors in a retreat to the coast.
    Forest watched his beloved France collapsing around him. At Bomber Liaison some of the French aircraftmen had already fallen into defeatism and watched refugees streaming down the roads with a mixture of pity and inevitability. The aerodrome had been bombed on 3 June, but much to Forest’s frustration there was no call to return the action, and on 11 June communications were finally cut. It was in this state of chaos that the embassy staff had simply vanished and Forest was left with no choice but to evacuate also.
    It was a bad time in Paris. Forest had been sleeping at his father’s flat, which was conveniently located at the Passy Métro station – four years later Yeo-Thomas senior could witness his son’s arrest from his own window – and returned there to collect his belongings. The skies were black, with thick clouds spewed from the burning remains of oil factories at Port Jerome, which the Nazis had bombed in yet another effort to cripple the French defences. A black layer of heavy dust would fall on the city like mourning clothes and for months everything would be cast in tones of black and grey. Even the birds were leaving and for the next year Paris would become eerily quiet without their song.
    Few people were out in the streets, but those that were cast unfriendly glances at Forest in his RAF uniform. One snapped at him: ‘Hold, an Englishman, I thought they had all buggered off long ago.’ Although Forest personally resented the insult, he recognised the feelings behind it. Allied politicians had underestimated the German threat and had sat on their hands when action was called for. The end result was Paris under occupation.
    It was with a heavy heart that Forest walked the streets of his beloved city, not knowing when he would see it again. ‘The Champs Élysées [was] deserted, invisible almost in the fog of rolling smoke. He walked slowly along the avenue Kleber, took a last look at the Trocadero and the Eiffel Tower, and dropped into a small café at the corner of the rue Franklin for a drink. He was the only customer.’ 1
    Paris was emptying ahead of the Nazi advance. Every vehicle still functioning was on the roads and packed with people, those without petrol rode bicycles and those without even that simple transport walked. The refugees