大象传媒

This is Bob Littlar's account of his D-Day experiences as a corporal in the 2nd Battalion King's Shropshire Light Infantry:

At the end of 1942 the government lowered the age of recruitment for the services to 18. I was just coming up to that age, so I registered for service at the start of 1943. I told them I wanted to be in the RAF, but they were short of infantry so that's where I ended up.

I was sent to an infantry reception area at Brecon, where my training started. After six weeks I was sent to another infantry training centre where I did ten more weeks. At the end of that I joined the 2nd Battalion King's Shropshire Light Infantry, which at the time was stationed at Lockerbie in Scotland.

Training for D-Day

In the autumn of that year the colonel told us that our battalion had been selected for the D-Day landings. We realised that this would be dangerous, and that we would have to do the job properly if we were going to survive, so we all knuckled down and trained extremely hard. Of course we didn't know at the time when D-Day would happen, as far as we were concerned it could have been any day.

As part of our training we practiced getting onto landing craft and landing on a beach that had been covered in barbed wire, while being 'under fire' all the time. It was utter chaos. I was always very glad when it was over, because I wasn't much of a swimmer and didn't fancy my luck in the middle of a freezing loch.

We also learned how to do river crossings, mountain warfare and other weird and wonderful things. We learned about the different kinds of coastal defences the Germans had built and how we would have to get across them. Most of us were just 18 at the time and it was all new to us!

In all the time we were training we had no idea where we would eventually land. I remember once a lieutenant commander from the Royal Navy came to talk to us. He had been on the beach where we would land and had even taken samples of sand - but of course we were not told where the beach was.

One day we were told to put on our small packs, which were filled with stones, and to swim a certain distance into a loch and back again. It was November, and it was snowing, but we did it! Back on shore we were dried off immediately and were all given a good tot of rum. Soon after that we all got leave. I went to visit my parents and went down with pneumonia almost the moment I arrived there. I stayed at home for about ten days, and when I got back I found out that someone had died from exposure after the loch exercises.

Moved to Sussex

When we finished training in Scotland our regiment was moved to Chailey in Sussex. We did a lot of training in night fighting down there, and also took part in street fighting exercises in London.

In the spring of 1944 we had a visit from General Eisenhower one day. He was of course the Supreme Allied Commander, responsible for leading the invasion. We were all put on parade on a landing strip somewhere in Sussex for the visit. He walked along the lines inspecting us. He then got onto the bonnet of a jeep and gave a little talk, saying, 'If anybody can do it, you chaps can.' It was very good for morale.

The hills of Herefordshire

We were all expecting the invasion to happen in the summer of 1944, because of the weather conditions. By the late spring of that year we were getting leave quite often, and I was going home almost every weekend.

On one such occasion my dad, who had fought in World War One, took me to the top of a hill in Herefordshire, where the view was absolutely brilliant. He said, 'This is what it's all about, this is why we are fighting this war, and if you see a view like this you know it's worth it.'

I couldn't have agreed more. That's what you want in life - a beautiful view like that, not a jackboot stomping on your neck.

The invasion looms

Towards the end of May we were taken to a sealed camp, so we knew that the invasion had to be imminent, although of course on my level we didn't know the exact timetable. At this stage of our training they showed us sand models, maps and photographs of where we would land. We knew how wide the roads were, how deep the ditches, and where there would be obstacles in our way - but we still had no idea where exactly it would be because code names were used rather than real names.

By late May we knew that the assault would happen within ten days or so, depending on the weather conditions, although no one still knew the exact date. We were told that another brigade had been selected for the initial assault, and that we would go in second as the penetration brigade, to get inland.

On 2 June, the Friday before D-Day, they told us to be ready to go the following day. The following day they shipped us down to New Haven harbour, where the LCAs (Landing Craft, Assault) were waiting for us to get on board. I think the idea was that we would sail out of New Haven at about 9pm, but then the departure was postponed because of bad weather. So we were still in the harbour on Sunday morning, and they took us off the LCAs and fed us a fantastic lunch. We got back onto the boats at about teatime, feeling very happy because we had been so well fed!

To the Continent

At about 9pm that night the four LCAs carrying our battalion quietly slipped out of the harbour and into the English Channel. We spent the entire Monday at sea, and we could see ships from horizon to horizon, all along the Channel. We'd all been issued with French francs, and to pass the time at sea the lads were playing cards and gambling with the foreign currency.

We'd also been issued with a terrible kind of soap, it was just about impossible to wash with the stuff. At 4am on 6 June, I was trying to shave using this stuff, and it was just impossible, so I decided I would just have to invade France wearing a moustache!

It was barely light at that time of the morning, but we could see that we were among war ships of all sorts. As we got closer to the coast of Normandy we could see smoke on the shoreline, from the long range battleship assault. We were all looking at this incredible sight when we were ordered to go below decks.

By now it was about 9am and the first brigade was already ashore and fighting. I went onto the deck to have a look at what was going on, and we were about 400 metres off shore. We could hear the sandbanks on the bottom of the boat, and we were very nervous about mines.

About 100 metres off shore we were ordered back on deck. On the front of the LCA there was a gangplank on each side of the bow, up on deck. When you get inshore they shoot these forward on pulleys, and you walk down. As the gangplanks went forward the chaps were nearly on them - it was no good hanging around because there was already shellfire coming at us. The boat on our right took a direct hit, making us very anxious.

The right hand ramp turned over with a whole lot of chaps on it, so everyone had to go down the left ramp. I think I was in the fifth section to go down. One of the naval chaps had tied a rope to the end of the gang plank, and had run onto the beach with it, so that we could all hold onto the rope to guide us onto the beach. Chaps were disappearing under the waves, you could just see their hands holding on to the rope. It was very comforting to finally get onto the sand, much better than being at sea.

We had been issued with waterproof waders that can keep you dry up to the chest, a bit like the ones fishermen wear. In theory this was great, but in practice it only worked if the water came up to your waist. Chaps were going under water and trying to wade out with these waterproofs absolutely filled to bursting.

I got out a knife and started slicing the waterproofs of the chaps that were struggling to walk on shore wearing these things. I did this for about seven or eight blokes, the men in my group. Then I looked around and saw a sea wall, about two or three foot high, and I sheltered behind it on my own. My sergeant came up to me and said, 'You're not going to win this war on your own, get your men.'

I could see smoke, and smouldering tanks that had been blown up earlier. The seafront area had already been taken, but there was still some resistance and we were still being fired on.

Trying to meet objectives

We were supposed to assemble in an orchard, and I was concentrating on that. Eventually we moved off inland, on the road to Caen. We walked past what must have been lovely seafront houses in peaceful days. We were moving south towards our assembly area, and suddenly I could see a German plane coming from my left. He was dropping what I could only describe as oil bombs. I could see them bursting, and the flames going up and spreading.

We were carrying Bangalore torpedoes, and I turned to the lads and said, 'Dump those in the ditch, quickly, and lie on the road - it's our only hope if they explode.' Fortunately the bomber missed the road. We decided to leave the Bangalore torpedoes behind.

We eventually got to the orchard where our battalion was gathering, and were organised into company groups. We were getting shelled, I have no idea where from. A piece of shrapnel hit my lance corporal, it cut his boot open and you could see flesh and blood sticking out through the hole. 'That's it,' he said to me. 'Cheerio, I'm off with the stretcher-bearers.' That left me without a lance corporal.

We were meant to ride forward onto Periers Ridge with some tanks, but the tanks never showed up so the decision was taken that the battalion would move forward without the support of the tanks.

My company was to be the first one going up the left hand side of the road, and W company was to go up the right hand side. The concentration of fire on this ridge was incredible, and to this day I have no idea whether it was our boys or the enemy firing. Whoever it was, it wasn't nice.

We left a space of at least five yards between each man as we moved up the hill, as we had been trained to do. This is to avoid a cluster of men being hit at once. The first bit was all right, but then we got closer and closer to this massive concentration of fire. I was so scared I got down on my hands and knees, and then onto my stomach. It was a baptism of fire, I had never seen anything like it. I think some of the fire was German, but some of it was our ships firing onto the ridge.

We eventually made it over the ridge and onto the southern slope, where the fire eased off a bit.

What I didn't know at this time was that there was a German battery of six guns on the right-hand side of the road at Periers-sur-le-Dan. The brigadier had ordered our colonel to send a company to deal with that, and that reduced us to just three companies.

Heading for Beuville

We carried on towards Beuville, and in the distance I could see what I would call a wadi, with a small stream running through it. It was now coming up to midday and we had been going since 4am. I was feeling tired and decided that I would cross the stream at a bridge.

We could see the village on the other side of the river, but as we rounded a corner near the bridge, BAM! A chap from W company was hit by an incendiary, and killed instantly as the bandoliers of ammunition around his waist exploded.

I thought the fire had come from a farm on my left so I turned around and started shooting at the farmhouse. Took all the windows out. But of course, they fire from ground level. I wasn't to know that - these things you learn on the job. I saw another company commander taking a hit in his shoulder, then tossing a grenade over a wall because he thought the fire had come from there, but in truth none of us had any idea where it had come from.

By this time three tanks had caught up with us, and one of the captains was leaning out, telling our lieutenant that he'd seen about 40 Germans going to a farm some 3,500 metres away.

My platoon commander ordered me to go across the road and around the right-hand flank of the village, to the meadows at the back of the buildings. We scrambled up the banks, heading for the back of the village. All the while we were being fired on by snipers.

Losing my stripes

A company is made up of three platoons, and each platoon has three sections, each one of them commanded by a corporal. A corporal in charge of one of the other sections came up to me and told me who had been hit by snipers, and most of them were other NCOs, non-commanding officers.

We both got our jack knives out and removed the stripes from our uniforms and put them in our pockets. We rubbed some dirt onto our uniforms where the stripes had been. We never wore our stripes again during that campaign.

Digging in for the night

After we crossed the road to the village of Epron, our deployment was halted and the order came to dig in. Some anti-tank guns were moved into the area, so we were expecting German tanks, but I hadn't seen any of them at that point. Four German tanks soon showed up but they were deterred by our anti-tank guns and swung away to the west.

We had 20 minutes to dig in, so we paired up and got our shovels and picks out. We were in an orchard so the soil wasn't too bad. You dig in roughly to shoulder-height. By about 5pm we were dug in, and we stayed in that position during the night-time for five days, moving around during the day.

That night, a few Messerschmidts flew over and machine-gunned us, and there was some intermittent shelling as well.

Our objective had been to reach Caen by the end of the day, but we realised that we wouldn't be able to do that. We did do a few patrols forward, but the battalion stayed put for the night. In the end, we only reached Caen more than a month later.

We had known that D-Day would be something huge, and I felt proud to have been a part of it. We felt it had been an honour to have been selected, but we were only a small cog in a very big machine.

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