大象传媒

Three Years Hard Training, D-Day, the Invasion, Juno Beach and Bailey Pontoon Bridging at Vernon over the River Seine

After enlisting in the Royal Engineers in 1940 at Guildford, I found myself at Barton Stacey near Andover, not far from my family home where I was born at Shrewton near Stonehenge, 8 miles from Salisbury. We underwent some basic training at Barton Stacey 鈥� I remember particularly the three months square bashing and training for gas warfare. Shrewton was close enough for my father to come to take me home for most weekends.

Our basic training complete, my colleagues and I joined the newly formed 72 Chemical Warfare Company RE at Winterbourne Gunner, also near Salisbury and began our training in all aspects of chemical warfare. We travelled to Ilfracombe and to Lynmouth where we fired 4.2 inch mortars out to sea. (We realised later that, had gas had been used during WW2, we would have been right in the front line)

We moved to Chatham and completed our fieldworks training in the Medway area. We once travelled 330 miles to the North West of England, to Warcop Ranges near Kirkby Stephen not far from Appleby-in- Westmorland where we were supplied with special rockets to fire on the moors. (We would have used these rockets had gas warfare been used).

In 1943, 72 Chemical Warfare Company RE was reformed as 72 Field Company RE, specifically tasked for Bailey bridging after the coming invasion. By this time we were stationed at Pangbourne near Reading. We travelled 200 miles to Goole in Yorkshire where we trained in field engineering. We built floating Bailey bridges over the river Ouse. Here the river was very fast and this proved to have been excellent training value. We also trained in minewarfare - laying, detecting de-fusing and recovering mines.

In 1944, I attended an overhead electrical cable course at Stoke on Trent for a month. Later, at White City, I took an underground cable course which was held at the famous firm of Callenders. So it was that I learnt how to lay and join overhead and underground cables. (As it happened, my new-found skills were never put to the test!)

So this thorough and rigorous training led 72 Field Company RE up to D-Day: June 6th, 1944. This day proved to be the most memorable 24 hours of my life and I suppose thousands of others too. Our Company was camped by this time in some woods at Eastleigh, near Southampton. During the evening of 5th June we packed up, left camp and boarded a Canadian boat, the Prince David, in Southampton Docks, ready for D-Day.

There were many Canadian soldiers aboard. None of us knew that we were going to land in Normandy the next day. We sailed at about 9pm. Only then did they tell us where we were going. (The Allies had tried to fool the Germans into thinking that the invasion was going to begin at Calais). During the night crossing the padre conducted a church service on deck. All joined in the hymns and prayers. As morning came, at about 7am, we looked around us and saw thousands of boats and ships of every conceivable kind, including destroyers and battleships, all pounding away at the shore 鈥� the now famous JUNO BEACH. We were under command of 3rd Canadian Division on Juno beach for about the next three weeks.

On board our ship were frogmen as well as very many soldiers. In order to get off the Prince David we had to climb down a scramble net attached to the side of the ship onto a landing craft. This with all our equipment including pickaxe and rifle! My pickaxe was on the top of my pack with the handle down one side and the head on the top. My rifle was on the other side.

As we climbed down the scramble net, the swell was causing the landing craft to rise and fall, and it was choppy. We had to jump when the swell rose and the landing craft was at its highest point. Our comrades reached out to help us avoid slipping between the ship and the landing craft as this would have been disastrous.

We set off the mile or so to the shore. As we approached, the skipper dropped anchor. (This would enable him later to winch the landing craft out to sea again if he was beached). Two hundred yards from shore, the skipper said, "This is as far as we go". He could not risk fouling the propeller in the sand.

It was high tide, so it was impossible for us to see any of the obstacles that had been placed by the enemy just under the waterline. Mines attached to these obstacles could easily blow a hole in the bottom of a landing craft. (The frogmen鈥檚 task was to de-fuse these hidden mines). The obstacles were everywhere, and many craft were already sunk. (When eventually the tide went out and the mines had been removed from the obstacles, bulldozers moved along the shore and pushed the obstacles aside).

Once we were close enough to the beach, the large front door of the landing craft was lowered. The time had come! We waded ashore with all our equipment with a Mae West life support jacket taped around each of us. I am about 5ft 10ins, but even so when I stepped off, with the weight of all I was carrying, I hit the bottom and the water came up to my neck! My friend, "Titch" Jones was only just over 5ft, so he went straight to the bottom, his helmet bobbing around! We had to grab him quickly and bring him back up and help him wade ashore. We were of course soaking wet as we tried to run up the beach to the sea wall.

I shall never forget the sight of a dozen or so men lying on the sloping sea wall. I said to my friend, "Those soldiers look as if they are asleep, in all this din!鈥� Mickey turned to me and said "They're not asleep, Roy, they're dead". They had been killed in the first wave, and their bodies put against the wall to be taken away later. That first night I slept under a bulldozer with Bert and Joe.

Later we breached the sea wall with explosives to create gaps for all vehicles coming off the landing craft: small vehicles, trucks and trailers of all types, and, eventually tanks. I saw that all the tanks and many other vehicles had been fitted with pipes straight up from the exhaust, well above water level, in order to prevent the water from blocking the exhaust pipe and stalling the engines.

We stayed on Juno beach at Berni猫res-Sur-Mere for about four days, clearing various obstacles and making roadways so that vehicles could drive off the landing craft and go inland without causing congestion. We spent the next few days inland, not far from the beach, clearing roads of rubble etc and converting fields into vehicle parks for the endless stream arriving from UK.

It was here at Berni猫res-Sur-Mere that we had our first casualty. On 12th June, 1944 Sapper E W Blaber was killed whilst clearing mines. He had successfully detected a mine by prodding with his bayonet and had defused it but it exploded as he removed it 鈥� it had been booby-trapped by a second mine beneath.

It was, as I have said, the channel crossing on the night of the 5th and 6th of June that was the most memorable of my life. Although uncomfortable, the cross channel voyage had been tolerable and we experienced no fear. We had trained hard for the last three years and were quite confident. We relied on our comrades and were all one big family. We had spent a great deal of time together both at work and at play, and this was real comradeship. But when we actually landed on Juno Beach and saw the destruction and carnage still going on, we could not help but feel very frightened indeed. We did not know what was going to happen next.

We moved only 15 miles westwards from Berni猫res-Sur-Mere to Bayeux. One day I was having a good wash down with two buckets of water, one foot in each. Suddenly, from across the field, came my cousin, Alan, who had also taken part in the invasion! We spent the rest of the afternoon talking before he returned to his unit.

Whilst we were in Bayeux, my friend Bert heard that his father had died. We went to the cathedral on the same day that the funeral was taking place back home in Wolverhampton. This made him feel much better. Whilst in Bayeux we were able to view the wonderful tapestry

I had my first proper shower in Bayeux. A marqee was erected and we dumped our used clothing on entry, had a shower, dried off and left the marquee at the far end where a complete set of clean clothes was issued. Sheer luxury! In the field where we were 鈥榟arboured鈥� we dug a trench in the ground about three feet deep. This we lined with straw and slept well on our groundsheets. The toilet was a pole to sit on with a trench beneath!

18th June. Whilst at Bayeux, 72 Field Company RE undertook a number of roadwork projects. This included the construction of what is now called the Bayeux bypass. Bulldozers would first clear and level the road alignment. We would then lay rolls of Somerfeld track. This consisted of very strong mesh reinforced at intervals with steel bars. Our alignment still exists as a bypass today!

We were soon to move on to our primary role of building Bailey bridges. Our first bridge was to be 150 miles by road to the South West at Vernon on the Seine. (Vernon is 65 miles North West of Paris). Having spent two or three weeks in Bayeux, we began, on July 26th the journey to Vernon by way of Audrieu.

On the 7th August two of our comrades in 72 Company were killed at Villy-Bocage: Sammy Lutton and Sapper Johnson. They were clearing mines at the roadside when one exploded and killed them both. There were dead cattle and shallow graves of soldiers everywhere. The smell of death was not very nice.

We moved from Villy-Bocage to Vassy, then on the 24th August to Argentan with 65 miles to go. Eventually we halted just short of Vernon by the roadside for a break. A large motor convoy passed us on the road. (Long after the war, I discovered that it had been the 4th and 5th Battalions, the Wiltshire Regiment, part of the 43rd Wessex Division on their way to the assault crossing of the River Seine at Vernon). We were due to build the bridge at Vernon the following day, after the leading troops had been through. We started building the bridge at 7pm on the 25th August. Work continued for twenty four hours. The 840 ft class 40 Bailey bridge (named Goliath Bridge) would enable support and supplies to be brought up for the Wiltshires who had seized the crossing using assault boats. They had successfully secured a 鈥榖ridgehead鈥� on the far side of the river the previous day.

The bridgehead having been secured, Sappers of 43rd Division had built a lightweight class 9 Folding Boat Equipment bridge (named David Bridge), able to take 9 tons. (Our class 40 bridge would take 40 tons, and could carry tanks crossing at 80 ft intervals). We built Bridge from both sides of the Seine, one site at Vernon, the other at Vernonnet. At one point we were shelled and a Despatch Rider on David Bridge was killed. One bay of the bridge had to be replaced.

Each landing bay with their access ramps attached was built from the shore into the river. Floating pontoon bays that were to connect the two landing bays across the Seine were assembled down-stream of the bridge site. It was my job to supervise the assembly of these bays. Each bay of two pontoons with Bailey panel superstructure was towed into position by a motor tug. The long access ramps of the two landing bays were on rollers each bank to allow for ease of construction and also to accommodate changes in water level. The bridge was completed by 6.30pm on August 26th. Traffic passing over the bridge then crossed continuously for three days and three nights. The vehicles were kept 80ft apart. When we saw the tanks, guns, lorries, armoured cars and vehicles of every description pass over Goliath Bridge to support the infantry and to prepare for the next phase of the advance, we were all very gratified. It was a wonderful and rewarding sight.

I subsequently discovered that my great friend, Geoffrey Young of the 4th Wilts, was in that convoy that passed us on the road to Vernon as we were resting on the 24th! Geoff and I have often talked about this period of our lives and we have been back together since the war to visit Vernon.

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