大象传媒

D-2

On that tense Sunday before D Day we knew that something was afoot. There was an atmosphere of busyness in the movement of ships in Portsmouth harbour and the Solent. The waters were thick with craft of all kinds: big transports to invasion flotillas, capital warships, some cruisers, a couple of monitors, a flotilla of our latest fleet destroyers looking wonderfully well-groomed and brave, the first hospital ship with large Red Crosses on a white hull; many were flying balloons and overhead, a continuous patrol of RAF fighters, something new to us.

That morning the sea had gone down considerably but there were still white-crested waves and we felt that operations would be put off for another day; it had already been postponed 24 hours owing to rough seas. But we were not left in doubt for long; the HQ ship, HMS Hilary, came out from harbour and flashed a signal to all minesweepers 鈥� 鈥淪weep on relentlessly鈥�, to which our flotilla leader HMS Pelorus (Commander Nelson, R.N.) replied with the signal, 鈥淎ye, aye, sir, with Nelson in the van鈥�.

Then the procession of landing craft started out through the boom to the open sea 鈥� small craft that would be the first to touch down and make the initial assault, upon whose success the success of the whole operation would depend. We watched them pass slowly by and we realised with a thrill that they were full, loaded with soldiers, tanks, bulldozers, cranes; and there were odd shapes whose function we dare not guess but which would aid the landings - huge rolls of matting for the beach, big floating ramps sticking high into the air; heavily camouflaged and secret objects, weird to look upon, and impossible to guess their purpose. Some of the landing craft had been turned into small monitors by the addition of twin 4鈥� gun turrets, pom-pom platforms and oeilikons. To us it was a very grand and exciting moment, for we had waited long enough. And yet, perhaps, this was but another exercise, that last large full-scale exercise before the real thing. We were not to know the answer for some hours. Soon after lunch the flotilla sailed: eight fleet-sweepers, four trawlers, two destroyers, a couple of M.Ls, and two fleet destroyers that had been attached to us for protection against E-boat attack. Very slowly we sailed through the boom, for everybody was trying to get through now, and at least two other flotillas of sweepers. What a sight it was, the sea filled with ships and overhead the R.A.F. kept continuous watch. What must viewers from the shore have made of this? I looked toward the land and thought of home. On the bridge, I spoke into the strong wind Wordsworth鈥檚 words:

Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive
But to be young was very Heaven!

for I was sure we were entering the dawn of a new age in history.

Sweep to the beachheads

The swarm of invasion craft was now well out to sea and gave the appearance of a forest of bare trees in winter. Taking a final look at them and praising the soldiers that were in them, I went below to get my head down, for the night would be long and tiring; little sleep for any on board, so better get some now while things were quiet. Six hours after passing through the boom we would know our destiny. If by that time we had received no signal recalling us to port, we were to open the sealed bag we had on board; if for any reason the operation was cancelled, we should all return to harbour and the orders would remain sealed. But there was no cancellation, and we opened our orders. We officers crowded into the Chart House and eagerly read through the bulky dispatches. We read that the object was to obtain a 鈥淟odgement鈥� on the coasts of Normandy; that the M.S. Flotillas were to sweep the channels to the beaches Regardless of Cost; we read the names of the Commanders, and learned the numbers that were to be landed; we read of the airborne landings and the saturation bombing raids that would be delivered immediately before landing. We felt this was complete and that nothing could withstand the full might of British power. The Captain summoned the ship鈥檚 company and told them so.

At 10 o鈥檆lock we went to action stations for the night. I had the First watch on the Bridge, but it passed uneventfully; there was no sight of war. The ships of our flotilla were the only ones visible for a long time, though towards dusk we could see other flotillas on each horizon 鈥� altogether there were five minesweeper flotillas. By midnight we were a good way ahead of the invasion fleet, and approaching the coast of France. Our presence would warn the enemy and give him time to deploy his forces, so we turned and steamed back along our course for an hour. This was no mean feat, for it was a dark night and the risk of collision was very great; but the turn was successfully accomplished and after an hour we turned back, put our sweeps out again and headed for France. This difference in speed was unavoidable, for while the invasion craft were limited in speed, we had to sweep over a certain set speed to prevent our sweeps dragging on the bottom of the English Channel.

Now comes the most incredible part of the whole story. Just before dawn we arrived off the French coast, and at the same moment the bombing started. Stick after stick of bombs went crashing down along the coast. First here and then further down, now some other place, and all the while searchlights were probing the sky and flak was racing up to meet the invisible foe. I had not seen such a display of tracers in my previous actions at sea. At times it appeared to be solid, next moment it would spray out in all directions. As if to add to this striking and impressive sight, the bombers were dropping great flares and a rain of coloured objects, like a mist descending, of red, green and gold confetti. The terror and agony of the French population must have been complete, the price of their liberation.

As dawn came the bombers went home and the navy鈥檚 warships took over the job with big guns. Meanwhile we were preparing for the assault. My own ship was weaving about trying to find a square inch of ocean it could call its own. All round us were thousands of ships; the invasion fleet had arrived and, simultaneously, the big transports which had probably left the Solent only a few hours before and were now engaged in lowering their assault-craft to the water. The Bay de Seine was full of ships and to seaward were the warships firing over our heads. In the midst of all this we dropped anchor, some six miles out from the small town of Courseulles, and we hoped the Frenchman was impressed by our apparent coolness. That morning we swept another channel back to England 鈥� to be exact we enlarged our original channel. The ultimate object was to merge the five channels into one big one, down the centre of which would be laid buoys, and which would be wide enough to carry all the attack traffic. As we steamed north, the sea was covered with ships. At first they appeared as separate convoys of about twelve L.S.T.s with an escort of perhaps one frigate, but there were so many of them that before long they formed into two endless columns reaching to the horizon. They were bound for France, we were returning to England. We reached the invasion base about tea-time, oiled alongside a tanker and then to our disgust, we were sent outside the boom to anchor. We felt that having faced the dangers of the past 24 hours we were entitled to the security of defended waters for a night. But the great expanse of the Solent was still packed with shipping, (much of it was new tonnage just arrived from northern posts) and we were to be at immediate notice for any emergency, in which case it was better to lie outside the boom for a quick getaway. We were there two nights, and I managed to get ashore for a few hours on duty. I was struck by the absence of soldiers ashore and of tanks, and most valuable to us, I was able to get some daily papers.

During those two days we were inactive, and cursed our luck at having to return to England so soon. All the time L.C.T.s and L.C.I.s were returning empty from France, some of them slightly damaged (we saw only one with substantial damage), and after the minimum of delay they were plodding back again full of fresh soldiers and provisions. We remained at anchor outside the boom among a large concentration of shipping and in company with six Red Cross Vessels, or 鈥渂lood boats鈥� as we called them. On the second night one of these sailed for France with her navigation lights at full brilliance; next morning we passed her being taken in town by her stern, her bows down in the water after hitting a mine. It was a pathetic sight. On our arrival back off the beaches, we were struck by the huge mass of shipping and the large balloon barrage that flew not only from the ships but from the shore as well. Searchlights had also been landed in quantity, and we were glad of their presence that evening when enemy planes made attacks on our positions. The flak was well concentrated, especially from the inshore ships, and we watched the planes shot down in flames.

Story continues in HMS Recruit - Part 2

My thanks to Peter Neil for word processing the text and to Ness Collingridge for helping the story onto the 大象传媒 People鈥檚 War website in August 2005.

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