大象传媒

The story that follows is a personally written account by Sergeant Frederick Turner, Royal Marines, who was a sub-division leader of 556th Flotilla on D-Day, 6th June 1944, in the landings at Juno beach. His LCA flotilla was one of two (556th and 557th) of 12 craft each carried across the English Channel by the Monowai. LCA stands for a 鈥楲anding Craft Assault鈥�. Frederick Turner was born in Sunderland on 3rd April 1918 and returned there shortly after the war to live with his wife Edna until his death on 15th September 2004, aged 86. I consider it to be a significant commentary on the horror of battles that my father never described his experiences of that day to me in anything other than a very superficial way and that as his long life came towards its close he became increasingly saddened by its memory, particularly on each anniversary of D-Day.

During the war Edna worked as a lathe operator in Gateshead, making components for Rolls Royce Merlin engines. They married on 6th March 1943 and had been together for over 61 years when Fred died. Edna died on 23rd April 2005.

Fred's account -

鈥極ur task was to land the initial assault infantry, the Canadian Queen鈥檚 Own (Rifles), on the beaches at Bernieres, to be followed by 557 Flotilla in the second wave carrying the Canadian Regiment-de-la-Claudiers. Seven miles away from the Normandy coast we prepared to lower away into a choppy sea with our LCAs loaded with troops, as it had been decided against using scrambling nets.

鈥楩ormed up in divisions in line ahead we were escorted towards the beach by an American coastguard cutter. They left us with a compass bearing and the assurance that it was right ahead 鈥� as if we did not know! With shells now whirring overhead from the warships out to seaward and rocket craft sending their barrage ashore it was only going to be minutes before the Canadians, several of whom were seasick due to the violent motion of the craft, were going to have to cross a murderous beach to gain the first foothold on enemy held territory 鈥� peering over the ramp I knew they were in for a tough time. At a signal from the flotilla officer we increased speed and turned into an extended line to hit the beach. The buildings on the seafront at Bernieres appeared intact and a replica of the panoramic photographs we had been shown earlier. Strangely we met little opposition until, after negotiating the beach obstacles, we struck the beach simultaneously, then the enemy let loose and my craft鈥檚 starboard gunwale was raked with machine-gun and small-arms fire. Tanks landed ahead of us had been unable to clear the beach, and with no cover the infantry had to dash ahead supported by firing from the tasks behind them. My opposite number, Sgt. C.J. (Jack) Hunter had to abandon his craft, and leading his crew to shelter behind the tanks which preceded us, found that the Canadians were being pinned down. He bravely crossed the beach both ways under heavy crossfire to carry a message from the Canadians to the tanks either to cross the beach or elevate their guns higher to support them (for this he was awarded the Conspicuous Gallantry Medal).

鈥極ur signaller, Marine George Ernshaw, having taken over his craft when his coxswain was wounded, successfully got to the beach and landed their troops, but his craft blew up attempting to get out into deep water through the beach obstacles. Ernshaw received a slight shrapnel wound which was not discovered until later and was the subject of some ribaldry, but he well deserved his DSM.

鈥極ur own main troubles were in attempting to manoeuvre out of the beach obstacles, several of which still had their mines attached, but my coxswain, Corporal Ginger Dunn, coolly and quickly cleared into deep water. Our flotilla officer, Captain Clelland, got his craft clear by standing on the gunwales heedless of the enemy fire and fending off obstacles with a sounding pole while giving directions to his coxswain. Lieutenant Johns, our second in command, whose craft was a casualty, stayed on the beach to look after our boys who were scrambling out of the water as their craft became wrecks one after another. LCA 728 was our worst casualty, suffering a hit on the beach from a mortar. Three of our four flotilla men lost were its crew members, the only survivor being the coxswain, Corporal Len Reay 鈥� despite his efforts to help his wounded stoker ashore to a first aid post, the man died.

鈥極nly four of our twelve craft made it back to the ship, and as we were leaving the beach we paused from pumping out the water that had flooded in with the heavy following sea breaking on the beach when we dropped the ramp, to raise three cheers for 557 Flotilla who were passing on their way to receive their baptism of fire.

鈥榃e ploughed back to the Monowai and had to lie off as further troops were being taken off the ship by the LCTs which had returned from the beach and could put larger numbers of reinforcements ashore. Anyway our craft losses rendered us of little use, for sixteen of our twenty four craft attached to our ship were lost 鈥� sixteen craft in almost as many minutes. Losses to our personnel fortunately were light but were keenly felt due to the strong camaraderie of the messdecks, and it was cheering when many of the crews from our lost craft came back on board from other ships in the convoy when we reached Cowes the following morning. But the crossing of the beaches cost the Canadians dearly.

鈥楾he final straw for me came at Cowes that afternoon when a well-meaning old lady asked, 鈥淲hen are you going over, son?鈥� I could only respond weakly, 鈥淕ood heavens 鈥� I鈥檝e just come back.鈥�

Both of the Monowai鈥檚 flotilla officers were awarded the DSC.

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