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Licked into shape

Our now almost daily excursions took us beyond the river and the harbour, and out into the open sea. Quite a difference when you consider the type of craft we were in: A Landing Craft is a purely functional flat bottomed boat, with a blunt bow necessitated by the need to provide a ramp which could be lowered to allow a platoon of troops (about 35 men) to disembark. Because of this they were quite unable to glide through the waves as conventional craft with a bow and keel would, but simply charged through taking each wave head on with a moat disconcerting motion until you got used to it. For the first couple of trips though we were all quite seasick and couldn’t even look at the bully beef sandwiches and ship’s biscuits (hard tack) which had been thoughtfully provided for a mid-day snack; at least the seagulls had a good time.

A redeeming feature of the L.C.A. was that it was very manoeuvrable because of its twin engines. Putting one engine ahead and the other astern (in reverse) gave it a very tight turning circle which was very useful if you were trying to getalongside in a rough sea.

The eventual role we would play now began to take shape as we started to practice beach landings on a long stretch of beach known as Slapton Sands a few miles down the coast from Dartsmouth. During the day there was an eerie silence about this place: It was completely deserted and we learned later that the whole area, including several villages inland had been evacuated lock stock and barrel, and made a prohibited area, so that we could practice our trade.

Getting onto the beach wasn’t too bad, it was staying in position when you got there, and getting off again that was the tricky bit, especially if there was anything of a sea running, and there usually was. The idea was to keep the craft bows on to the beach, so that the troops could get ashore without getting their feet wet (that was the theory of it), and to avoid at all costs getting — to use the naval term — broached to, that is sideways on the beach. If you did that, especially on a falling tide, it was almost impossible to get off again without assistance, so we soon learned to find out whether the tide was falling of rising. A technique that was supposed to help around this situation was to throw what was called a kedge anchor over the stern (attached to a length of rope of course) on the final approach to the beach, secure it, and then haul in as you reversed off the beach.

Again the theory was good, but if the deckhand wasn’t quick enough hauling in on the anchor rope, it could end up fouling one or both of the propellers, and then you were really in trouble. Of course we had to learn most of this the hard way, but we quickly found that each man had a part to play in the team, and that orders given had to be observed quickly if disaster was to be avoided.

I have so far only mentioned operating the L.C.A. as a single unit, but for operational purposes we were to form a flotilla of 18 craft, able to proceed in formation in a single line, double file, or line abreast as for a final approach to a beach. We also had to master rudimentary signals to be able to carry out these manoeuvres. At least one of the crew had to know semaphore i.e. hand signalling with flags, in order to communicate from one boat to another (none of your two way radios and all that jazz in those days!). As if that were not enough, we had to master the art of taking on board a platoon of troops with all their equipment, sometimes in a rough sea, and to get them to sit down on the three rough bench type seats that ran the length of the craft for the uncomfortable run to the beach, trying to look nonchalant in the process.

Our first customers were American troops, and we didn’t get on very well with them for a number of reasons, one of which was that they were paid nearly as much in a day as we received in a week. Somebody summed up in one sentence how we felt about them; they were — overpaid, oversexed and over here! However, there was a job to do and we had to get on and do it, we realised that it was no fun for them, especially when we put them ashore to face live ammunition, sometimes being used. It taught us to keep our heads down too.

One night when we were to have a rendezvous with some of their troop carrying craft for yet another landing exercise, the whole thing was suddenly aborted, despite the fact that the weather seemed calm and conditions good. We learned later that their craft had been attacked by German E boats operating from Brest, and that one craft had been sunk and two severely damaged. Casualties were very high, running into hundreds, mainly because they were in full battle gear, and many couldn’t swim. There were bodies being washed ashore for weeks after that. Of course the whole affair was hushed up, and it wasn’t until after the war that the truth became known. It may have been because of this incident, we don’t know, but it wasn’t long after it happened that we were transferred to Scotland to continue our training, initially in a place called South Queensferry near Edinburgh, where we resumed our seamanship training in the waters of the Firth of Forth, often cruising under the spars of the famous Forth Bridge.

We moved around a bit as well, going even further north to places like Inverness and Cromartie, where we first linked up with converted ships manned by Merchant Navy crews, which acted as landing ships and could actually carry some of our landing craft. They were actually former cross channel ferries, pressed into service for the occasion, and it was there, in the middle of winter, that we encountered the sea in one of its most dangerous and treacherous moods.

We embarked with our L.C.A.’s on a number of converted ferries, we were on the s.s. Maid of Orleans, and I recall that another was the s.s. Royal Daffodil, both grand old ladies that had been called out of retirement. I think their previous active role had been to assist in the evacuation of the British and Allied troops from the beaches of Dunkirk.

We were to hold a landing exercise (but without troops fortunately) with one of the many islands off the Scottish coast as our objective. It was blowing hard even before we left the harbour, and gale force winds had been forecast, but it seems that nobody had sufficient authority to pull the plug on the exercise, so off we went.

The gale hit us full force as soon as we reached the open sea. Nevertheless the order was given to lower away the L.C.A.’s when we arrived off the island. Once having done that there was no way to get back to the comparative safety of the landing ships, and we were soon drenched through to the skin, although wearing oilskins.

We ran before the gale for a while, and eventually sighted land, whether it was the island we were supposed to be making for I don’t know, but we got round to the lee side of it (the side sheltered from the gale), and found a small harbour where we tied up togetherwith several other L.C.A.’s which had also made it there.

The Islanders made us most welcome, and we spent the night being sheltered there before returning to the landing ship the next day when the gale had subsided. We lost almost half the L.C.A.’s either sunk or severely damaged, although the crews were rescued, either by their mates from other L.C.A.’s or were picked up by the parent ships.

What the idea was of the powers that be in allowing the exercise to go ahead I don’t know. Unless they thought that if we could survive that we could survive anything. But hold on there is more to come.

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