The flotilla of small boats that set out from Ramsgate Harbour this week to recreate the dramatic rescue from Dunkirk of the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) 75 years ago has sparked memories for one Maidstone man.

John Port, now aged 94, was one of those plucked from the beaches in the evacuation of Dunkirk. He said he would be forever indebted to the bravery of the sailors who defied the enemy’s mines and bombs to come to his rescue.

In 1939, Mr Port was an 18-year-old living with his parents, two brothers and a sister in the village of Merstham, near Reigate, where his father, William, was the head-gardener at Albury Edge, the local manor house.

Mr Port, who was working as a general hand at the local garage, could see that war was in the air and rather than wait to be called up and perhaps posted to the infantry, he joined the Royal Army Service Corps Territorial Division at Croydon. Both his father and uncle had served in the RASC during the First World War. The Corps was responsible for the transport of troops, ammunition and equipment, and food and water to the front line.

Mr Port soon founded himself posted to Maidstone for training, living in billets in Charles Street off Tonbridge Road.

In November the Territorials were moved to Yeovil, where they were joined by the regulars for further training. In March 1940, they embarked for France, landing in Calais then making their way to Belgium.

Mr Port said: “It was chaotic. We were just not ready for the Germans’ new type of warfare - Blitzkrieg. We were expecting to fight over a wide front. The Germans pushed through in a small section in overwhelming numbers and then began encircling us.”

Several times he recalls he had to jump out of his transport lorry and dive for a ditch as German fighters suddenly appeared and began to strafe those on the road.

As the BEF advanced there were long lines of civilians refugees going the other way.

Another day Mr Port’s unit had set up workshops in a field to service the transport vehicles, when “three Henchsals appeared. They were so low I could see the pilots. They dropped their bombs, but managed to miss us.”

As is usual in the Army, the rank and file were told very little about what was going on. In fact the Germans had pushed past them and the British Army was being surrounded and cut off.

Mr Port said: “We were all told to get in the lorries and drive back. We drove all day. It was a very overcast day, with enemy planes often overhead.

“Eventually we had to abandon the vehicles and start walking. We walked all night and then arrived on the beach. I remember there was an Austin staff car half in the water, but there were very troops there at that time. We were told we were going to be evacuated and we should wait on the sand.

“Then other units started arriving. Soon there were thousands of us.

“We had no tents, no shelter. There was no food or water, only what we had carried with us in our packs and water bottles. Fortunately it was springtime and it didn’t seem that cold.

“We were actually at La Panne, a little town to the east of Dunkirk, but we could see huge columns of smoke rising up from Dunkirk where the oil refineries had been bombed.”

Mr Port spent the first day lying on the sand with his helmet on the back of his head as enemy planes flew over.

Mr Port said: “There were Stukas coming over on and off all day, but funnily enough they didn’t strafe the beach. If they had done, they could easily have killed hundreds of us. They were going on to attack our ships.”

The rescue fleet had arrived. In Dunkirk harbour, some large ships were able to tie up to the pontoon, but elsewhere it was too shallow for the warships to approach the shore. They had to lie off the coast while small naval launches and the myriad of volunteer civilian craft ferried the soldiers from the shore to the waiting ships.

Mr Port said: “There was one big transport ship loaded up with our chaps. A Stuka came over and dropped a bomb right in the stern. There was a big red flash - it was an awful sight. Goodness knows how many were killed.

Mr Port also witnessed the Brighton Belle paddleboat “ablaze from end to end.”

Mr Port described the scene on the beaches as calm. He said: “There was no pushing and shoving. It was all very ordered and disciplined. We just formed queues and moved forward until it was our turn to get on a boat.”

Eventually, after three days, he was able to wade into the water, clamber aboard a small launch and be taken out to the destroyer HMS Icarus to be taken home.

He said: “The first part’s a bit blank. I never noted what the boat was that picked us up - I wish I had. I don’t even remember how we got abroad the destroyer, I assume we went up netting or a ladder, but I remember the feeling of relief as the sailors pulled us onboard.”

The danger was not over, there were still enemy aircraft and U-boats to avoid.

Mr Port said: “We never really felt safe until we landed in Dover.

“There we were met by Redcaps who gave us tea and sandwiches; boy did we wolf that down!”

Mr Port had spent three months in France in total.

The rescue operation continued for another six days.