I thought I would celebrate the Royal Wedding and our valued democracy by releasing a D-Day episode for members to share. It's extracted from the full version of Dad's memoirs which are about to be published by Pen and Sword. I've forgotten how many times I've read this yet I still enjoy the spectacle of it! Dad was in the first wave of troops landing with 6 Green Howards on Gold Beach. See the link in my signature for more details and a link to the Dunkirk chapter. The extract starts in a landing craft on the way to the Normandy beaches. Enjoy! All the best, Paul. Looking around us, we could see other assault craft taking station at each side of us. The sea was very choppy but as the mist began to clear and the light was improving, the whole mighty operation became visible to us. And what a sight it was – something nobody had ever seen before. There were thousands of ships of all sizes and, standing out like huge sentinels, the mighty war ships (in fact, almost seven thousand in all). It was such a vast undertaking that nobody, not even the participants who were part of it, could describe the invasion as vividly as we saw it happen. It would never be seen again in our lifetime. If the British people could have seen it they would have been very proud. The sky seemed to be full of planes – bombers, Hurricanes, Spitfires and others I did not recognise; hundreds of them going towards our target for the day. With the continuous barrage of the battleships’ huge guns and the drone of never ending streams of aircraft, the noise was deafening. How could the enemy in their wildest dreams have imagined what the Allies would be able to assemble for this day, the day of retribution for the vile sins which had been perpetrated in the name of the Third Reich? We were now seasick, that most awful of feelings, and were making full use of our sick bags but even that did not stop us from taking note of what was going on. Nobody wanted to miss this great occasion. Shells started coming towards us but the enemy seemed to be going for the ships, not us, and they created great spouts of water when they hit the sea. It seemed to be a hell of a long way to the beach, then I saw a landing craft next to ours slow down. A bullet must have hit the helmsman. Swiftly, somebody took over control but the boat was now a little out of line with the other assault craft and in the blinking of an eye, the front of the boat had been hit by a shell or a mortar, or probably a mine. The explosion lifted bodies and parts of bodies into the air and the stern of the craft just ploughed into the sea. All those boys, laden with kit as they were, didn’t stand a chance of survival. Then, at the top of his voice, the helmsman shouted: ‘Hundred to go, seventy-five to go, all ready, fifty to go!’ He was now fighting hard to control the craft, avoiding mined obstacles showing above the water, as well as the ones just beneath the surface. One boat had already met disaster on the approach. ‘Twenty five yards’, and suddenly, ‘Ramp going down – now!’ And the craft stopped almost dead in three feet of water and our own platoon commander shouted, ‘Come on, lads,’ and we got cracking. That was no place to be messing about. Get the hell out of it. Jumping off the ramp we went into waist-deep water, struggling to keep our feet. We waded through the water looking for mined obstacles, holding rifles above our heads. I was trying to keep a very cumbersome two-inch mortar and bombs dry as well as making certain I didn’t drop it, Some of the lads were shot as they jumped. Two of the lads were a bit unfortunate because as they jumped into the boiling water the craft surged forward on a wave and they fell into the sea. I dare say they would fight like hell and recover but we were not hanging about, that had been our instructions from the start; we must not linger. On the beach, lads were falling all over the place. Resting with his back against the tank was our company commander, Captain Linn, who had been wounded. He was waving his arm for us to get off the beach. Tragically, while he was in that position, he was hit again and killed. Captain Chambers, now took over and he, too, was wounded but was able to carry on his duties. He was shouting and waving his arms: ‘Get off the beach – off the beach, off the bloody beach. Get forward lads and give the buggers hell!’ It was difficult to make too much haste in the soft sand but, by a supreme effort, we ran up the slope towards the sand banks in face of heavy enemy fire. Dead and wounded lads lay all over the beach, the worst of whom were shouting for the stretcher bearers. They were bricks, those medics. At this time, we lost Sergeant Burns but I never did get to know how many others were actually killed on the day. Along the invasion front, 10,000 men were killed or injured. From jumping out of the craft to getting onto the beach seemed to take ages, yet it couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, which was long enough to be in that situation and it was still drizzling with rain. I’ll tell you what, we didn’t look back. The situation didn’t allow it, but now I wish I’d had the presence of mind to turn around to see the navy in action. It must have been an awesome sight from a defender’s view, but this was no time for sightseeing. I had made it. It was beginning. The beach, with all the deaths, was behind us. What had happened there was history, we just got used to it. The cold hand of fate did not lay its icy fingers on me, for which I thanked God.
