- Contributed byÌý
- stan veasey
- People in story:Ìý
- stan veasey
- Location of story:Ìý
- Normandy, France
- Background to story:Ìý
- Army
- Article ID:Ìý
- A1071488
- Contributed on:Ìý
- 06 June 2003
On 20 May 1944, we moved from our concentration area at Wickham to the final marshalling area at Hambledon. I was a Royal Signals wireless op'. With my co-operator, I was attached to an HAA – heavy anti-aircraft – battery that was destined to be the assault unit providing AA – anti-aircraft – protection on the beachhead.
First man down
With a fine disregard for history, we were accommodated in tents on Broadhalfpenny Down. This was of course the celebrated cradle of English cricket. An impromptu football kick-about quickly started, in the course of which, a large Irish gunner named Shelley took a flying tackle.
His opponent ended up on the ground with a broken ankle. There were many who thought him lucky to be out of the invasion. Shelley was asked jokingly to repeat the performance several times. Ironically, he was the first man to be killed in the unit nine days later.
Receiving our rations
The whole of the next day was spent in changing kit and replacing deficiencies. It culminated in the issue of our invasion ‘Compo’ rations: two 24-hour packs parcelled in greaseproof cardboard boxes. They contained chewing gum, boiled sweets, three bars of chocolate, tea blocks, meat concentrate and compressed porridge.
In addition, we received a tin of bully beef, more chewing gum, water-sterilising outfits and bags in case of vomit. Then there were cigarettes and a device called a 'Tommy', a small portable stove that burned solidified meths. I don't recall whether we were given any matches to light the cooker. Oh, and there were also a few sheets of toilet paper.
A mysterious package called 'iron rations' we were forbidden to open without permission. Anticlimactically, this turned out to be bitter, black chocolate.
’Hurry up and wait’
On Friday, 2 June, we eventually reached the hards at Gosport. LSTs – tank landing ships – were moored there at the water’s edge with their bow doors open. As usual, it was a case of 'hurry up and wait'.
As it was a hot day, I retired to a coil of rope, put my back against it and fell asleep. When I eventually awoke, the hard was deserted, except for a few ever present military police. After a moment of panic, I realised that obviously everyone had embarked. Equally obviously, I had no idea which of the half dozen ships they were on.
Having to sneak aboard
I asked an MP for help, but he didn't want to know or wouldn't become involved. So, feeling lonely, I wandered up and down looking for a familiar face. Eventually, I saw a couple of our fellows looking over the rail high up on deck of one of the LSTs.
My first effort to get aboard was frustrated by the load master, obviously a prototype jobsworth, who told me no one could board without a boarding card. However, tanks were being loaded, and by choosing my moment I was able to sneak aboard on the blind side of one of the tanks, getting my feet wet in the process.
At some risk of being crushed by the tank and by virtue of climbing various ladders, I experimented my way up until I found the others. No one had missed me.
Please let me join the invasion
I would imagine I am unique in the annals of the British Army in being the only soldier who had to ask, 'Please can I join your invasion?'
And so began the Great Adventure.
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