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My brothers had joined the Army but I joined the Royal Navy rather than the Army and after putting my age up to 18 volunteered by changing the date on my birth certificate. I was 17 at the time. Managed to pass the muster and was sent to the boys’ training establishment at Shotley in Ipswich. It was
there for three months to learn the basics, then on to Chatham Barracks to await draft. That’s the time the new scheme run by Lord Mountbatten called
Combined Operations started. I happened to be one of the lucky ones chosen.

Training started with a vengeance, course after course, commando training up and down the British Isles. Training on all types of small landing craft L.C.As, L.C.Ms, L.C.P.Cs. The flotilla of L.C.Ms (Landing Craft Mechanised) I belonged to was sent and stationed at Porthcawl, South Wales. We used the small harbour there to moor our craft awaiting orders. Train train train and more training. Whilst there we were used to ferry the landing craft from the yankee liberty ships, which had brought them over from the States on the lease and lend agreement, up and down the Welsh coast, Barry, Port Talbot, Swansea etc, to flotillas awaiting their quota. Great fun but they get some bad weather around that part of the globe and what with the flatbottomed craft, no keel, and you can guess that it was up/down, left/right, all at the same time.

Our billet when not at sea was a disused roller skating rink alongside the harbour (pity they never left any roller boots behind). Also moored with our craft was a R.A.F. crash boat whose job was to rescue crews from downed aircraft in the area. They nearly had to rescue me at one time. A tug was used to tow six of our craft from one port to another in a line of three, two boats lashed together. What with the heavy sea the lashings holding two craft together kept breaking. There was one man to each of the six. Due to the weather we all had weather gear on, plus seaboots. Well, my rope parted. In trying to put a fresh line across over I went. Lucky for me I managed to grab the fairlead, but hanging over the side in the water, dead weight, soaking wet, my other half on the second boat saw my plight and after a struggle pulled me aboard. In the meantime the watch tower on shore had seen or thought he’d seen me go overboard, informed the R.A.F. crash launch and out they came full steam ahead. Fortunately I didn’t need their assistance. They offered to take me ashore, good of them, but declined as no damage done. Enjoyed the time I spent there.

From there I was drafted to Warsash, to a flotilla of L.C.P.Ls (Landing Craft Personnel Launch), a small craft, speed boat shape, all made of wood and pretty speedy, used for landing raiding parties on the enemy coasts. Train train train, doing night manoeuvres, learning the art of silent beaching, in and out quick. Our flotilla of L.C.P.Ls was stationed at Sandwich Kent, near Dover. Our billet was an old camp which had housed Kitchener’s troops in the first war and was still standing. We couldn’t use our craft, not enough room. Anyway we had our hammocks but the toilets hadn’t changed. Cleaned up a bit of course but they were a long line of sheds all joined making one long line, split into toilets, had doors on with a space of a foot at the floor. A gully used to run from one end to the other with water running along it. You had to sit on a plank with a hole cut in it Some bright spark thought of getting at the far end, lighting a newspaper and letting it float along the gully. All you could here was lots of shouts and swearing but by the time you had got your trousers up the culprit had scarpered.

Another time they assembled our flotilla and a number of others making dozens of boats, different shapes and sizes, forget where it was, somewhere off the south coast, could have been Sandwich. Anyway off we set heading towards the French coast, couldn’t think what was happening as we had no troops aboard, but still we kept going. Must have reached halfway then ordered to turn back. Relief all around as a few shells were landing close. We were told later that it was to try and entice the few remaining Jerry fighters to come out. If they did our planes were waiting, also to get the Jerries into thinking that it was the first of the invasion fleet at the wrong place. Nothing really came of it.

I told you we were called Combined Operations. They had a badge made up to represent it. It had an anchor for the Navy, and through the middle of the anchor was a tommy gun for the Army, and at the top a pair of wings for the Air Force. Quite effective, each man was given one to wear on his sleeve. Felt real proud as it was connected with the Commandos as well.

Whilst there I was sent on a course as a Q.O. (Qualified Ordnance) on small arms, pistol to 4.7. breach loader. That was down at Dartmouth — Jago’s Mansions as the boys named it, and also at Grevall Rifle range at Torquay. Unknown to us the second front was near and that was why all the drill.

After the Q.O. course I went and joined an L.B.V. (Landing Barge Vehicle) flotilla at Langston Harbour on Hayling Island. The Admiralty had commandeered a number of old London barges, installed engines and a ramp door for the use of landing cargo etc. They also recruited the barge hands and gave them some training with the rank of Petty Officer. They were great lumbering craft, did six knots flat out and were hard to handle because of their weight. The only armament they had were twin Lewis guns on the forepart on a swivel tripod. I think they had never been touched for years, all rusted up, in need of maintenance and that’s where my Q.O. course came in handy. I’d been trained to strip down and clean them dozens of times and got them ready for action in no time at all. We spent most of our time getting used to handling the craft.

Then, one morning, out of the blue, came the order — Man your boats! It was the morning of 5th June 1944 — D Day minus 1. We moved off and assembled with hundreds of other craft , mostly the slowest of the thousands used. We were the first bunch to set sail across the Channel but were soon overtaken by the larger and faster boats. I think you could almost jump from boat to boat without touching water. Each craft was assigned a certain sector of the Normandy beach by a letter painted on the bow. The one I crewed had ‘S’ for Sword. Being as we were slow in the water we tailed off a bit which made us late in arriving. There were five different sectors — Utah and Omaha for the Yanks, and Gold, Juno and Sword for the British and Canadians. Sword was our objective on the far left of the invasion area, but due to lack of knowhow by our coxwain we arrived off Gold beachhead, two sectors to our right. The way of knowing was by the letters on the craft around us, so we had to turn to port and drift nice and easy along the shoreline, all the time being fired over by the ships shelling inland.

The first landings of troops had gone ahead sometime before we reached our sector and they had moved inland so most of the fighting around the beach area had finished. Our barges were used for ferrying ammo petrol and food from the cargo ships that lay offshore . We got loaded from them and then ran up on the beach to be unloaded. Tommies were used for that purpose, but after a while captured Germans did the job. Most of the buildings around the beach area had been badly damaged and also booby-trapped so fresh water was in great demand. Our barge was fitted with large tanks so we had ample. The troops left on the beach used to come to us with their tin cans etc for washing, shaving and of course for brewing up.

The other item that was very short over there was bread. Our barge was used for some time in ferrying food stuffs ashore. We carried cargos of compo boxes, as they were known, fairly big cardboard boxes brought over in the Yankee liberty boats from the States, filled with all kinds of goodies, tinned fruit, tinned rice, choc, cigs and what have you. Great stuff! Naturally we kept one or two or more for our own use.

Quite often at night Jerry planes came over and strafed but due to the amount of flak put up by all the ships around they turned tail. The most danger came from shrapnel. The sky used to light up with the slow lines of tracers fired by all the ships around but very dangerous with falling spent bullets and bits of shell fragments. Very wise to keep your tin hat on. I never did fire my twin Lewis guns at the so-called enemy.

All the time since the invasion had started the weather was far from good. By now a week or so later it broke and blew into a gale. Most of the ships moved out further but our craft had to stay near shore and try to ride it out. But as we only had a small draft our small anchors couldn’t grip and the engines couldn’t cope and we just got blown shoreside. There was nothing we could do. The barge was swamped and sank just off shore and the rest of the flotilla had fared any better. Lucky to get on dry land. The Army saved us by issuing us with Army jackets and trousers and a field just inland was cleared of mines around the outer part and tents put up for our use. We had to be a bit wary as they hadn’t cleared the inner part of the field.

I think we spent a couple of weeks hanging round until things got a bit organised. Then the Army fire brigade managed to pump our sunken barges dry enough to refloat them. A tug came from Portsmouth and towed four of us back to UK.

Before I finish I must tell you about the specially built landing craft they sent over just after D Day — L.C.Ks (Landing Craft Kitchen). All fitted out to serve hot meals and drinks and most importantly fresh baked bread. We also saw the Mulberry Harbour being towed across in sections then fitted together to form a floating pontoon running shoreside. Great idea for landing men and equipment. Unfortunately the weather put paid to it. I think they repaired it later on. I think it was one of Churchill’s ideas, or at least he got the credit for it.

We also saw the aircraft towing gliders full of troops to be dropped inland. Didn’t fancy their chances. They first had to find a landing space, hoping that there were no Jerries waiting for them when they did.

The battleship ‘Warspite’ was laid off the coast so we went alongside for a bit of shelter. But not long after the heavy guns from Le Havre opened up and the ‘Warspite’ soon turned tail and made a hasty retreat. That was the time our P.O. coxwain had gone on board for some reason. Never did see him again. They took him with them. No great loss, never did like him much.

The tug that towed us back landed us at Portsmouth where we were picked up by transport and taken to R.N. Barracks who rekitted us out. We messed around for a couple of days and were then given 1 weeks leave and told to report back to Chatham for further orders. We must have been there a couple of weeks waiting. You had to double double everywhere. There must have been hundreds of ratings in the same predicament, all wanting to move.

Well wonders will never cease and my name came up on the draft board. I reported myself and got kitted out with all kinds of heavy weather gear including underwear which must have been at least one inch thick. That’s when the old mind starts ticking — Russian Convoys! — couldn’t be worse. To my relief we were told to return all gear back to the store and were then kitted out with the very opposite, khaki shorts and shirts and were put down for operation code name ‘Golden Hind’ - Australia!

After a lot of hassle we were put on a train for London and on arrival had about five hours wait for the troop train to Southampton. To our surprise we were allowed ashore until then. That was the time the picture ‘Gone With The Wind’ had just reached London. Three of us managed to rack up the entrance fee, saw the film enjoyed it and just managed to board the train as it was leaving. We arrived at Southampton docks, mustered then boarded the ship ‘Dominion Monarch’, around forty thousand tons, a passenger liner converted into a troop carrier. There must have been near two thousand of us crammed into her. Sleeping in hammocks slung on hooks from the deckheads over the messrooms. You can’t imagine what it was like. Low on food, water rationing, and hardly room to move.

After a couple of ports of call to bunker and take on fresh water, we sighted our first glimpse of Aussie, Perth.. We stayed there overnight, then down the coast to Sydney, N.S.W., docking at a place called Woolloomoolloo. We did the usual disembark routine and were then put on a train to a transit camp called Warrick Farm, once a race course but taken over by the R.N. and used as a waiting area. There were hundreds of us there and all trying to dodge the working parties.

Passing the Regulating Office the P.O. in charge called me over and asked if I wanted a draft. Of course I said yes. He told me to pack my gear and report back. I was then handed a railway warrant to Sydney and told to report to B.F.M.O. (British Fleet Mail Office). I wondered just what I had let myself into but it turned out to be just the job. There were already three other ratings there who showed me the ropes. We used to take the bags of mail to the ships docked in the harbour and also to the airport to be flown out to ships stationed elsewhere.

I was also put on L.P.A. (Living Paid Allowance) or in other words I got paid to eat and live ashore. I thought how lucky can you get! I found I could get a bed at the Jockey Club, an establishment financed by the Aussie people for servicemen on leave. It was all free and I also got free meals at the British Centre in Hyde Park, again for servicemen. It was just like having a civy job 8 to 5 and all because I passed the Regulating Office at the right time. I suppose we did a good job getting the mail to the lads out there. Somebody had to do it and why not me.

After a few months V.E. came followed by V.J. I had been out there for well over a year by then and now as it was all over everyone was waiting for his number to come up. The longer the service you had in the lower your demob number. Mine was 45, fairly low. We were given the opportunity to stay out there and join the Aussie navy but we wanted to get home. Sometimes I question my decision not to stay out there as I would have been a full-blown Aussie by now.

Eventually my number came up. I did the necessary then boarded the troop ship ‘Arion’ with hundreds of others. What with the big cheers and flag waving we set sail for bonny England. It took the ship five weeks to get home. We stayed one week alongside in Bombay for some reason, but after another voyage we finally arrived in Liverpool. After disembarking we were split into groups, mine being the Chatham ratings. We were put on a train and eventually got back to where it all started, Chatham Barracks. Did the demob routine and were told to hand over our hammocks but that we could keep the palliasse (straw mattress). We were overjoyed with that and the shed was full of them when we left. We were given a railway warrant to get us home and that was that. Four years to the day — joined 3rd May 1942, demobbed 3rd May 1946. Coincidence if you like.

John Charles Mayes died on 19th January 2003

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