大象传媒

It was a cold day in Feb '44, snow lay on the ground, thin but very crisp, out at sea it didn't seem too bad, but now that the floatilla was docked in the harbour of Portslade, and we had our feet in the white stuff, we weren't too happy. The docking area was only just big for our craft, but a change of scenery for a few days until we took part in a local exercise didn't seem bad. The snag was that, we were on dockside wire splicing, a vicious occupation at any time, but in the cold you couldn't feel the damage that you were doing to your hands until much later, when you thawed out. Still, it was a job for our own safty, four hawsers to each craft, all sixteen of 'em, one below each gunwale and one above. Come break time, and Lofty Axford shouted, "Over the road for a Rosy", This meant clambering up a steep snowy bank, climbing over spiked railing and across the main coast road, to a wee cafe. We were only a small working party, but we filled the place to overflowing.It was worth it, a BIG steaming mug of Rosy and toasted doorsteps thick with beef dripping, Wow!!!
Our billet for the next week was in the Grand Hotel in Brighton, and by the time it took to march the two and half miles, the circulation was pumping, that's when the cuts and scrapes got your attention. Apart from feeding us well, the other advantage, we got our grog ration, so by the time the exercise was due, we were ready. The exercise, was to give the Canadians a pre-view of what they might expect later. The idea was to load each boat with a bofors gun complete with its crew, in operating condition, but only for an out and back trip, no landing. As it transpired, that would have been out of the question in any case, for the weather was atrocious. For us it was bad, but we were equiped to handle these conditions, but those poor Canadians, in their normal khaki kit, cold, wet, and most of them seasick, we did the best we could for them, but it was never enough. As a P.R. exercise it was a disaster, but we did learn some valuable lessons, hope our passengers did too, one good thing came from the encounter was that we were now all buddies.
A couple of other operations took place, mostly by or for the Yanks, 'Duck' (mostly anphibs), and 'Beaver', which was supposed to refine air cover, another cock-up.
And then came the big one, TIGER. We moved out the night before, both 800 and 801, but independantly, planned to arrive off shore at dawn, which we did, in thick fog. Close formation was the orders, and to keep in touch we had to be close. Not a sound to be heard, the water was so still and dark, it looked like we were sitting on mud. We had Capt.Bird and his signaller on board, and they couldn't get any response on the radio at all, we had no idea how far the beach might be, and had only a compass reading of the general direction. Dicky made a decision, all craft hold your position, and he will go ashore to find out what's going on. I was driving, (our coxwain was being seasick, as usual) so Dicky said " Go ahead slowly, and the instant you touch bottom, back off and let me disembark, Rohmy, let the ramp down". Within minutes we had lost sight of the others, though we could hear them. We crept forward for about 20mins. and then touched bottom. OK. said the Skip wait here for me and don't get beached, with that he stepped off the ramp.
PLOP !!! right in up to his armpits. "Oh SOD" he said, Now my fags have got wet, give me smoke somebody" and with that he turned and walked to the shore, which by now was just visible. I must have touched a sandbar, because after he was out of sight, I managed to creep forward about another 50yds. Another 10mins. and there was a stirring of breeze and a few moments later the fog was gone and hailing us from the beach was Dicky, and we reached him almost without him stepping into the sea again. As we backed off the wind picked up, there was mighty flash of lightning, and with the great crash of thunder the storm broke. As the flotilla gathered around us, Dicky indicated that we all head inshore, and up the bay towards Chichester Harbour.
Meanwhile the big event of the day was taking place about 300 miles to the west, at Slapton Sands, the nearest equivalent that could be found to the Normandy beach, where the American 'Force U' (Utah) would attempt their landing. Once again the promised air support failed to materalise, and the beach engineers (?) caused a massive holdup, postphoning their operation by one hour, as a consequence, the landing craft with all the invading troops had their own traffic jam offshore. But they failed to inform the British Navy Group, who were using live rounds of ball and rockets. As a consequence of this altered timing there were 50 deaths from drowning, and as many again from the live fire. There were also another 29 unspecifie deaths in addition, bringing the total to 150, this was reported to General Bradley, who immediately put a suppression order on the news. A bulldozer was used to dig graves to bury the dead.
So now, the butterfly effect, out in the Channel, marking time, was the main invasion force, a convoy five miles long with eight LST's, one of which, LST-58, was towing two pontoon causeways, escorted by a single British corvette in the middle of Lyme Bay. Suddenly out of the blue they were attacked by a flotilla of nine German 'E' boats circling at high speed, who loosened off a volley of torpedoes, sinking two LST's,(the 507 and 531), and badly damaging two others.
The death roll was catastrophic, estimates about 750, most of them troops of the U.S. 1st. Engineer Special Brigade, crucial to the invasion force. While all this was going we had M.T.B.'s and four destroyers keeping watch on the other side of the Channel along the French coast. The Germans had picked up our craft movements on radar, and from there on had kept radio silence.
As the bodies of the victims were being washed ashore after dawn, the full scale of the disaster became known, most were wearing Mae West lifejackets, but had never been instructed on how to use them. It was a training exercise that lasted 40 minutes, and cost 800 lives. The Commander's first concern was to suppress the news, (which they successfully did, for 40 years) and secondly that among the missing, were top security classified officers. If these had been captured and were interrogated, it was possible that the invasion would be placed in jeopardy. The bodies were temporarily buried in a mass grave on the exercise site. Meantime the exercise went on, and 25000 troops and 2750 vehicles were successfully landed in the TIGER area, and a similar operation took place two weeks later, with Force 'O'(Omaha), without incident. Rehearsals were now over, and lessons learnt had yet to be proved.
Of all this, we knew nothing, too busy weathering the storm which seemed to be set for days, rather than hours. While we were heading into Chichester harbour the Captain was busy on his radio link, he turned to Pony Moore and said 'Don't worry about your sea legs Corporal, we've a place to bed down for a few days'.
And so we had, a childrens home, all the kids had been evacuated for duration. Warm, cosy, roof over our heads, the only snag, everything was child size. The only clobber we had was what we were wearing, working dress, (i.e. two part denim), Duffel coats, oil skins, seaboots, comforts Sweaters, Slippers (issued), khaki tops and bottoms, not often, both. Now try to imagine sitting on a loo thats only one foot high, dressed like that, the chairs were only a little taller, and narrow, all the comforts of home, in miniature. No toilet gear! well, don't need stuff like that at sea, all we had was soap.
Woke up with a jerk, (no not Rohmy) it was the sun, the storm had blown out over night, but we were so exhausted no one noticed. Half awake, getting out of the bed was an ordeal, it was only five feet long, and so near the floor that the only feasible thing was to roll off.
A wash and brush-up, and we could face the day, unshaven, clean but scruffy, breakfast nominal but hot drinks unlimited, and the rest of the day was ours. We were stuck in a little village called Appledram, no scope there to do anything, couldn't get lost, the church was on the opposite corner. A quick look at the map showed we were about 2 miles from the Chichester rail station. For the sake of something to do, I said I fancy a trip to Pompy to get a cheesecutter that fits. The last time I needed a hat I borrowed Egerton's, and had to stuff it with newspaper so that I could see where I was going. Seven of us got to the station, but when we got tickets we found that two had no money at all, so they stood on the platform and waved us goodbye. It was well into the journey before we realised that no two of us was dressed alike, the only thing we had in common was we all had blue berets and needed a shave. So trying to keep a low profile, we asked a porter the whereabouts of the nearest military outfitters. Just down the road he said, giving us an old fashioned look, you can take a shortcut through the goods yard. He probably thought we were deserters. Anyway, I bought my hat, and as there was a cafe a couple of doors away, we decided to have a decent meal, and then get back before dark. We made it, no problem, but the moment we stepped into the billet, Corporal Moore pounced, you five, you're in real trouble, the Captain wants you NOW !!
Dicky Bird, Capt.R.M. sat behind a desk that was too small for him, made him look twice as big, and fixed us with a glare of ice.
"Would you care to explain the reports I've been getting of Music Hall Lifeboatmen parading around Portsmouth impersonating Royal Marines". Well, Sir, I started, displaying the hat. "Shut up, I haven't finished dealing with all the reports yet, and I wanted to see for myself the clowns who represent 801 to the world, I'll be dealing with you lot later at base, dismiss. As we went out and shut the door behind us, I'm sure I heard him laughing.

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.