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'This story was submitted to the People's War Site by Sarah Nurton from ´óÏó´«Ã½ GMR Action Desk on behalf of Cecil Steff and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr. Steff fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

To Normandy....

Having spent days in a holding camp near Tilbury we at last boarded our ships to be transported to Normandy. Mooring off the JUNO landing beach we again waited for orders to land and eventually I was ordered ashore to recce an assembly area for the guns. Having transferred my team complete with vehicles and motor bike to a landing craft I expected a quick dash to the beach but to my surprise the two young naval types suggested waiting for the tide to turn when they would land me ashore dryshod and meanwhile we could have a couple of beers. They were cool lads and as good as their word, I didn’t even get my boots wet. Finding a suitable area for the guns was easier said than done, we were packed in like sardines , no wonder we were held so long at Tilbury. Eventually we moved into our first firing position to do the job for which we had trained so long. There were several moves, mostly sideways and on one position at a village called Rosel, about two miles east of Caen, I had set up my command post in the grounds of a rather large Chateau.

Calvados

One afternoon a young lady called with an invitation for any officer to attend the Chateau at 1800 hrs to celebrate with the owner the anniversary of Bastille Day, July 14th. Two of us attended and we were welcomed by two charming, elderly, aristocratic ladies, the owners, who ceremoniously produced a bottle of Calvados they had kept hidden since 1940. It was my first experience of Calvados and the first toast nearly blew my head off, I learnt very quickly. Four nights later the RAF heavy bombers blasted Caen and even in our position we could feel the blast and the ground trembling under our feet. The following day I advanced through Caen to recce a new position just south of the city.

'Thats no leaflet drop'

This position was to prove very hectic. My recce was carried out under mortar fire and with the occasional anti tank shell crossing the area. We were firing constantly both night and day and in turn being shelled and bombed by the enemy. One particularly heavy and noisy night we were being showered with anti personnel bombs sounding like thousands of giant crackers going off and involuntarily I exclaimed ‘what the hell is that’ and my signaller, a wee brau’ Scot replied ‘there’s one thing you can be certain of sir, it’s nay a leaflet raid’ The raid set fire to a number of vehicles, some carrying 100 pound shells, and all available men were off loading them and saving as much equipment, wireless sets, personnel kit as was possible before the vehicles exploded. Few of us survived that night without suffering rather painful burns to our hands. To add to the hilarity the Americans joined in and bombed the gun positions, fortunately they were off target and we suffered no casualties.

A Surprising 26th Birthday

One bright episode during this period . My batman asked if I could be free for a couple of hours one evening which I arranged and was led away to a nearby house, there to be escorted to a table with a white tablecloth on which were flowers, an array of cutlery, glasses and a white serviette. They had found out it was my 26th birthday (actually they were a few days out, but I kept quiet). Then I was served with a brilliant multi course meal accompanied by suitable wines. All my team were involved and they had included the cooks who should have been two miles back in the waggon lines. I never enquired how or where they liberated all the ‘goodies’ but I was emotionally choked and had great difficulty thanking them without a break in my voice.

On the Move Again

After three weeks we were once again on the move, not sorry to leave Caen. Advancing at last. Through Tilly, a village completely obliterated, nothing standing more than six feet high, into a position where we were again bombed and shelled and suffered more casualties Two days and move again into a ridiculous position in full view of the enemy at about 5000 yards. We could see one battery of 88’s actually firing at us and having received permission to engage them we dropped a few 100 pound shells into their position which soon shifted them. Four days of bombing and shelling and more casualties, but we could not move to an alternative position, there were too many troops in too small an area and tanks and troops were not breaking through as planned.

Too Close for Comfort

Then the news that in the afternoon the RAF were sending in heavy bombers to carpet bomb the enemy held front lines. Brilliant, except that they started bombing about 7500 yards short and the first wave of bombs dropped 2500 yards behind us, the next wave about 1000 yards back and the next wave were on their way, bomb doors open and we knew a few minutes would decide whether we were to live or die. Suddenly the lead plane veered off course followed by the others and slowly they disappeared from view. It later transpired our Air OP Officer/Pilot flying an Auster light aircraft realising the situation flew directly towards the lead bomber flashing ‘own troops’ and did not deviate off course until they started to turn. A real hero and I don’t know if he even received an official ‘thank you’.

A Breakthrough

The tide was now turning, at last we had broken through, German resistance was broken and they were retreating along a very narrow route. It was revolting slaughter, they were continually bombed, shelled and machine gunned. There was no compassion, for weeks they had bombed and shelled us and now it was pay back time. Some of us also remembered Dunkirk. For weeks we had lived with dust and flies, the smell of death in our nostrils, dead bodies and the disgusting sight of the bloated bodies of dead cattle and horses, but it didn’t prepare us for what we were about to see on our advance through and just beyond Falaise. Fortunately one can forget.

Sweet Relief

We were pulled out of action into a field through which a small babbling brook ran not more than six inches deep, but oh! the joy of stripping off and just sitting in that cold, clear water, heaven. After 3 to 4 days of cleaning and maintenance we were on our way again and having located our allotted area I was inspecting a barn as to it’s suitability for my command post and sleeping quarters when I had an eerie feeling of being watched Looking up there were two German soldiers in the loft, quickly drawing my revolver (unloaded) I beckoned them down and not knowing what to do with them I detailed one of the lads to supervise them digging slit trenches whilst we got on with our survey work. On my return I could not understand why they were so glum, but once we could assure them they were not digging their own graves and they’d had a mug of tea and a couple of fags they were fine and worked with a will. We wanted to get rid of them so we pointed them in the right direction, back to our echelon lines, and let them go. It was a treat to be on the move again, the weather was fine, the countryside was very pleasant and at last we were winning the war. We crossed the Seine at Elbeuf and moved on through Rouen where we received a tumultuous welcome. Out of Normandy , through Pas de Calais on to Belgium and Holland.

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