Howard, (actually only approaching 70, but old by the standards of the day) sits in his London club recounting his story to another club member while an air raid thunders around then. Struggling to come to terms with the death of his son, Howard had recently decided to take a fishing trip to France, to the Jura. But it's the spring of 1940 and Britain and France are at war with Germany. (With the benefit of hindsight, a holiday abroad seems a ludicrous idea, but in the spring of 1940, to a man whose experience of war was based on WWI, perhaps less so.) But as the weeks pass the military situation looks more and more ominous and Howard decides that he should return to England. On the eve of his departure, a fellow guest, Mrs Cavanagh, asks a favour of him: will he take her two young children back to England to stay with her sister? The Cavanagh's home is Geneva, where the husband works for the League of Nations, but there have been rumours of a German invasion there so Mrs Cavanagh has brought the children to the safety of France. But now it seems that France is not safe either, so as Mrs Cavanagh does not want to leave her husband, will Mr Howard not take them? And perhaps everything would have been well, but the youngest child, Sheila, falls ill upon the journey, and the ensuing delay means that Howard and his charges are overtaken by the German blitzkrieg. And like the eponymous pied piper, soon it isn't just the two children that Howard is shepherding across a collapsing France....

This is a quiet story of a decent man doing the best he can in extraordinary circumstances, which doesn't shy away from some of the horrors of war:

Their rest finished, he led them out upon the road again. To encourage them upon the way he broke one of the chocolate bars accurately into four pieces and gave it to them. Three of the children took their portion avidly. The fourth shook his head dumbly and refused. ‘Merci, monsieur,’ he whispered. The old man said gently in French: ‘Don’t you like chocolate, Pierre? It’s so good.’ The child shook his head. ‘Try a little bit.’ The other children looked on curiously. The little boy whispered: ‘Merci, monsieur. Maman dit que non. Seulement après déjeuner.’ For a moment the old man’s mind went back to the torn bodies left behind them by the roadside covered roughly with a rug; he forced his mind away from that. ‘All right,’ he said in French, ‘we’ll keep it, and you shall have it after déjeuner.’ He put the morsel carefully in a corner of the pram seat, the little boy in grey watched with grave interest. ‘It will be quite safe there.’

Published in 1942, it's difficult to imagine this sort of book being written now. I can't help thinking that an equivalent would have an overly saccharine ending. I think I first read this when I was about 13 or so - I didn't think that I would remember it but certain episodes came back very clearly, so it obviously made an impression. Recommended. ( )

A great story, typical Shute, published in 1942, a good read ( )

Good story of old man in France who helps children refugees and some orphans get to England as Germans invade in 1940. ( )

I have felt like a kid in a candy store lately, my books have been that good. Here’s another one that is virtually unread these days, but such a charming story and so well written. One of my favorite writers is [a:Nevil Shute|21477|Nevil Shute|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1547804311p2/21477.jpg]. He has a style that is easy to read and so absorbing, and absorbed is exactly what I was from the moment I opened the book and found two Londoners sipping Marsala in their “club” during a bombing raid. Of the two, one is an older man who has a tale to tell and he proceeds to do so with such charm that even the details of his fishing expedition sing.

In the weeks before France fell to the Germans, Mr. Howard decides to take a trip to the Jura to fish and try to forget a blow he has received. While there, he meets a couple with two children, and when the invasion begins and he realizes he must get back to England pronto, the couple ask him to take their children along. He reluctantly agrees and sets out with babes in tow on what should be a quick escape. Of course, the invasion is worse than expected and the time is past for easy escapes, so Howard and the children are in for an adventure they would rather not have. Along the course of this adventure, Howard picks up other children, increasing the risks and slowing the progress.

I felt as if I were there. I loved the calm and sweet Mr. Howard. I thought how unlike today’s children these tykes were but also how alike all children are. I felt the weight of the responsibility and the level of patience needed from a man who has already been told he is too old to be of any help in this war. Howard puts his own life at risk to save this group of children he doesn’t know and I thought of all the real lives that were saved by such men and women and of all the lives sacrificed in such attempts. I adored the story.

I have a dozen Nevil Shute books yet to read. [b:A Town Like Alice|107301|A Town Like Alice|Nevil Shute|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327957610l/107301._SY75_.jpg|276591] is on my all time favorites list and I am looking forward to reading the others, one marvelous adventure at a time.
( )

The story begins and ends in the smoking room of a London men's club. As bombs fall during the Blitz the unnamed narrator and an elderly John Howard decide to ignore the safety of the air raid shelter and remain in their armchairs with their Marsala. The conversation turns to fishing and in particular a recent trip that Howard undertook to France.

Howard, seventy years old and unable to find something to fill his days becomes restless and decided to visit the French Jura. He is there in April when the Nazis invade Belgium. He makes immediate plans to return to England and reluctantly agrees to take two young English children along with him. So begins a road trip across France as they try to reach the French coast. Along the way Howard collects another five children of varying nationalities and is assisted by young French woman, the daughter of an old acquaintance, who shares a common grief with him. The fact that the story is being told in the first person means that I'm not giving too much away in saying that Howard is ultimately successful.

I found this a poignant tale of love, loss and loneliness where the Nazis are only the indirect enemy. Instead, the plot centres around the frailties of age, both in the very old and in the very young. Howard's weak heart, Sheila's and Ronnie's heedless English chatter coupled with their slow painful progress supplies much of the story's tension. The characters are well drawn, the prose is sparse but beautifully effective but perhaps what is most remarkable is that this story was first published in 1942, only two years after the events that it portrays supposedly happened and whilst WWII was still raging, its final outcome still unknown. This story speaks of another gentler age and deserves to be more widely read. ( )