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This story is submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a member of Market Harborough Branch, Royal British Legion on behalf of Kenneth West and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr West fully understands the site鈥檚 terms and conditions.

Free Trip to France
by Kenneth J West

On the 20th Twinning visit to Offranville, I was sitting in the luxury lounge of the Brittany Ferries Duc de Nornandie and lulled into a sense of contemplation by the gentle dip and sway of the boat as she made her way steadily to OUISTREHAM, my thoughts turned to my first trip to France in the days of my youth.

I was camping with my pal George on the outskirts of Southampton, when we were invited to go on a trip to France with all expenses paid. Though warned by our parents never to accept gifts from strangers, we felt that this was an invitation which we could not refuse. So with sandwiches in our knap-sacks and our spades carefully tucked into our belts, we climbed up the gang-way.
At the top, we were met by a man in a very smart uniform and blue peaked cap, whereupon my pal George proffered a half-crown coin and asked politely for 鈥淥ne return please鈥�. Somewhat taken aback, the man in the peaked cap replied, 鈥淚鈥檓 sorry sonny, but there aren鈥檛 any return tickets today鈥� or words to that effect!!

In the Cafeteria we each received a metal tray with indentations, into which were served Soup, Meat, potato, Vegetables and pudding. With the rolling motion of the ship, I remarked that the contents might stray. 鈥淒on鈥檛 worry Bud鈥�, said an American voice, 鈥淕et it down you - it will all get mixed up inside, anyway鈥�.

By the time we got up on deck again, we could see the coastline of France and all around us could be seen boats and ships of all shapes and sizes. There seemed to be some sort of celebration going on, with rockets and fireworks going off in profusion. Around some of the ships we could see large splashes. 鈥淟ooks like someone over there is 鈥榊akking duckies in the cut鈥欌��, said George, using Thurmaston slang for 鈥榯hrowing stones in the water鈥�.

This was before the days of Roll-on-Roll-off Ferries, so with childhood memories of building sand castles and digging in the sand at Skeggy and Mablethorpe, we clambered over the side and down the nets dangling from the rails, into a small boat and set off for the shore. As we neared the water鈥檚 edge we were encouraged to paddle ashore and wait at the sand dunes.

Surprisingly, the water was quite warm as we paddled our way up to the dunes. But still the people on the other side of the dunes were 鈥榊akking duckies鈥�, some landing in the sand beside us. 鈥淭hat lot must come from Birstall鈥�, said George rather disgustedly.

After eating our sandwiches, we walked along on that sunny afternoon, over the dunes and past the village of Vers-sur-Mer, to a large field where we made bivouacs with our ground sheets. Tea was made on a little gadget obtained from the Army and Navy Stores and heated with a solid fuel tablet. As dusk approached, we stood drinking our home-made brew and we all waved as a plane flew overhead. The plane turned and started to drop presents for us, but unfortunately, some of the boys were hit by the presents and were badly injured. 鈥淚 bet he鈥檚 from Birstall as well鈥�, said George.

It had been a long, tiring, but exciting day. We hadn鈥檛 built any sand castles or dug holes in the sand, there just hadn鈥檛 been time. We weren鈥檛 sure just when or how we would get home, so we crawled into our makeshift bivouacs and tried to get some sleep.

When was this?鈥�, you may ask.
It was Sunday, 18th June, 1944

We are grateful to Kenneth West, for this light-hearted recollection of his Normandy landing on D-Day +12.

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