ROBERT Kitt has two overriding memories of childhood. Falling into an algae infested well, when he was four and listening to the cat’s whisker crystal wireless.

The first episode gave him a phobia of deep water, the second a lifelong love of radios. Both would play a significant part in his adult life.

Mr Kitt also has two overriding memories of France. One in 1940 at Dunkirk, the other, four years later on the Normandy beaches.

As an RAF wireless operator, Mr Kitt was frantically trying to find a way back home during the evacuation, code-named Operation Dynamo.

He was a member of 4 Squadron which moved to France in 1939 with Lysanders shortly after war was declared and occupied a number of locations before withdrawing in May 1940.

During the Battle of France, the Squadron sustained 60 per cent casualties amongst its groundcrew and 18 aircrew were killed along with the loss of all but 11 aircraft and all the heavy equipment.

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Soldiers picked up from the beach at Dunkirk

"I witnessed the debacle of France when we were all trooping back to Dunkirk," says Mr Kitt, now 97. "I can still see the little kids, this high, their parents probably killed, begging us to take them in our lorry. But we couldn’t, we were overloaded ourselves. It was terrible, those poor kids."

Things didn't get any better when he arrived on the beach.

"We couldn’t get on to a boat," says Mr Kitt. "There were thousands and thousands of soldiers and just four of us RAF. We got shouted at and booed every time we walked about, because no RAF planes were stopping the German bombing or straffing which went on day and night."

With both friend and foe gunning for them, Mr Kitt and his colleagues set off in search of a way out. But it was proving to be a fruitless search. Finally, at a small village called La Panne a military policeman told them ‘you’ll never get off.’ So there was only one thing for it.

"We pinched a boat from somebody’s garden and started rowing across the channel to England," says Mr Kitt. "Halfway it started to leak, so we took our hats off and baled it out. But it was no good and we had to swim."

Hardly ideal for someone with a fear of deep water. Fortunately HMS Mosquito was in the vicinity and the lookout had spotted what happened.

"This almighty ship came on top of me. 'Come on son', a voice said, and told me to grab hold of a ladder."

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Robert Kitt during his time with the army

Back in England and after a spell in hospital, Mr Kitt was sent to Clifton, York where his unit was reforming and re-equipping.

Four years later – on D-Day plus three – Mr Kitt found himself back in France. This time, though, he was heading in the opposite direction.

"Our Lysanders would spot things like tanks in a forest and it was our job to contact them, then get the message to our Typhoon fighters. Everything was sent by morse code."

By August of 1944, the Squadron was again operating from bases in France and moving forward to Belgium and Holland with the advancing armies.

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A Lysander spotter plane

It was a fairly uneventful trip to Germany. Then on the way to Hanover to erect a mobile radio mast, the airmen came across Belsen.

"The Army invited us in and said we want you to shout all over what you’ve seen. I can’t describe it. It was terrible and still hurts. I couldn't believe anyone could do such things. I still can't.

"My lasting impression was this pile of children’s shoes. It was as big as a house. And the smell. We had been looking forward to a roast dinner, somebody was cooking for us about 30 yards up the road. I couldn't eat a thing."

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"I couldn't believe anyone could so such things": Belsen