An Englishman at War

by James Holland

  By this time, the days of referencing cricket and horses for wireless code were long gone. The Sherwood Rangers were highly experienced with a core of men who understood the value of hard training, discipline and dedicated professionalism. Some of the older members of the Regiment, like Stanley, Stephen Mitchell, John Semken and Michael Gold, might still have given off an air of casual insouciance, but by June 1944, that was all that remained of the old Yeomanry regiment that had gone to war.

  All orders were passed forward, and all information was passed back on the wireless, both so vital in any action. It often happened that the whole Regiment, comprising around 60 tanks, each with its own wireless, would operate on the same frequency, which enabled every tank to listen in and pass messages, but only one station could come on the air at one time. A very high standard of wireless operation and procedure was essential both on the part of the operators and the tank commanders to prevent complete confusion on the air, which could be caused by one tank being off-frequency (off-net, as it was called) or by speaking out of turn.

  News suddenly came through that B and C Squadrons would proceed to an unknown destination and would undergo some special tank training for the invasion. There appeared to be considerable secrecy and mystery regarding this training, which intrigued us all and caused speculation, mixed with certain apprehension. A Squadron had at first been selected for this training, but Michael Laycock, the regimental second-in-command, told me that in view of the fact that A Squadron had led the Regiment across Africa, it had been decided that B Squadron should replace us. A clear indication was given that this special training might not be too savoury!

  B and C Squadrons soon left for their unknown destination, which turned out to be Yarmouth, and not until their arrival were details disclosed regarding their future. They certainly had a startling surprise. They were informed that they would be trained to ‘swim’ their Shermans to the shore. Having been launched from a tank landing craft up to 4000 yards from the coast, they would then support the first wave of the assaulting infantry – rather an alarming prospect and somewhat disconcerting to the Sherwood Rangers, who somehow could not picture a Sherman tank waddling in the sea like an overgrown duck under heavy shellfire. When we of A Squadron heard about it we were only too pleased that the other squadrons should have been given the privilege!

  These were the DD tanks, or Duplex Drive, especially adapted for D-Day. They were adapted with two propellers and given an inflatable canvas screen, which enabled the tank to float. Vision was difficult, the tank became even more claustrophobic than normal, and while it was reasonably reliable, there was much that could go wrong, particularly when under fire or operating in a rising swell. I was certainly glad A Squadron were not using DD tanks. Each man had to train using the ‘Davis Escape Apparatus’. Once wearing this suit, he then descended into a specially constructed cistern filled with water, into which the hull of a Sherman tank had been sunk. He was required to seat himself in the underwater fighting compartment, operate the controls for a specific time and then surface.

  Sherman ‘DD’ amphibious tank.

  Six men flatly refused to do this, in spite of orders, pep-talks and threats. In the end Michael Laycock was summoned to deal with the situation. He addressed them in his usual energetic and sincere way, pointed out the simplicity of the operation, and proceeded to demonstrate. All went well until he had surfaced, when in his eagerness and enthusiasm he removed the Davis Apparatus in the wrong sequence, which was the only part of the whole operation that required care and, if not done correctly, caused a certain amount of coughing and spluttering. The effect of the demonstration was somewhat marred by a fit of choking, spluttering and gasping on Michael’s part, from which he took some time to recover, which caused certain silent mirth and apprehension to those present. However, in spite of everything, through his perseverance, good humour and tact, he dispelled all the doubts and fears of those who had refused and nearly all went down. An NCO who had been decorated in the desert was among those who refused flatly to descend into the cistern. Having almost been drowned as a child he presented a psychological case so often encountered not only in war but peacetime. Naturally he lost his stripes, but just prior to D-Day he volunteered to join the crew of a DD tank for the invasion on the condition that he was excused from wearing a Davis Escape Apparatus, which was agreed. He fought and behaved magnificently on D-Day and during the following days and by D+28 he was promoted once again to sergeant.

  Bert Jenkins remembers the episode well. ‘They were Valentine DD tanks,’ he says, ‘and they kept sinking.’ Bert and the other men in B Squadron knew Mike Laycock as ‘Black Mike’ – although he was a stalwart of the Regiment, he was known to have a quick temper and was thought of as somewhat over-zealous. ‘He gave us this sob story about how we were saving the country and God knows what else,’ says Bert, ‘and he convinced us it was all going to be all right.’

  At the end of April, A and HQ Squadrons were posted from Chippenham to Sway, near the coast in Hampshire. It became very obvious at that time that D-Day was getting close. We spent our time waterproofing and de-waterproofing our tanks, and partaking in various amphibious exercises, working in close co-operation with the navy and infantry. All embarkation leave had been completed, and each time we went on an exercise nobody knew whether we would return to our billets again. One day in the middle of May we left Sway, never to return, and ended up at Hursley Park, near Winchester, which turned out to be our assembly area preparatory to the invasion.

  Training had been completed, and all exercises had now finished, and the time had arrived for the final briefing and the endless O Groups that would follow with the various infantry we were to support in the assault. Nobody had been told the actual date of the invasion, or, naturally, the place, but on 20 May all squadron leaders were informed that the invasion would take place on 5 June, and we were given the broad outlines of the army, corps and divisional invasion plan and a most detailed briefing of our brigade plan and objectives that our tanks and the infantry had to capture. The plan of the assault was illustrated on a sand model representing in minute detail the portion of the beach which we had to assault, but all features and villages had codenames, likewise the maps we were given. We were told that not until we had actually left the shores of England would maps be issued with the codenames substituted by the real names, and these would be handed to us by the craft commanders. After one conference at which we had been studying the sand table for a long time, John Bethell-Fox, a troop leader in my squadron, came up and said, ‘I lay you 10–1 we shall land in Normandy – I recognize the coastline.’ And he was right. His mother was French and he had spent most of his youth in France.

  As regards the enemy forces, we were told that in France, Belgium and Holland the Germans had 60 divisions, including 10 panzer and 50 infantry divisions, of which 36 infantry and 6 panzer divisions were located in the general coastal area opposite England. In the Normandy assault area the Germans had concentrated nine infantry divisions and one panzer division.

  Our brigade, the 8th Armoured, had been placed under command of the 50th Division (in XXX Corps), and they had been ordered to assault the beach known as Gold and to capture the villages of Asnelles-sur-Mer, Arromanches, Meuvaines and Ryes. The division was to attack on a two-brigade front, 231 Brigade Group on the left and 69 Brigade Group on the right. The Sherwood Rangers were placed in support of 231 Brigade, consisting of the Hampshires, the 1st Dorsets and the 2nd Devons, who had to assault the beach between Le Hamel on the west and La Rivière on the east. B Squadron were to swim in, supporting the 1st Hampshires on the right and C Squadron the 1st Dorsets on the left. These two squadrons were scheduled to land at H Hour minus 5 minutes. A Squadron, my squadron, would land as a reserve squadron, straight from the tank landing craft on to the beach. In the second phase the Regiment would operate in support of 56 Infantry Brigade group.

  Although 8th Armoured Brigade was under command of 50th Division for the
invasion, they were one of a number of ‘independent’ brigades, not permanently attached to any division. This meant they could be repeatedly moved about and temporarily attached to different infantry divisions to offer armour support. In other words, wherever the infantry were in action, these independent brigades, like 8th Armoured, and the individual regiments within them, were likely to be fighting too.

  The assault would take place at first light and would be preceded by an intensive air attack on all known enemy gun positions on the beach and naval bombardment. Naturally, a very thorough air reconnaissance had been carried out and practically every gun position and gun emplacement had been pin-pointed and photographed. Wireless silence had to be maintained up to H minus 15, except for the DD squadron tanks who could relax wireless silence on the B set, or the short-wave set, to control landing and the swim-in.

  All this information, still all with codenames, had to be passed on and discussed, which necessitated endless conferences with the various infantry to be supported in the different phases of the assault.

  By the end of May, all briefing and conferences had been completed and we moved from Hursley Park to our final concentration area a few miles outside Southampton. The whole camp was wired in and heavily guarded and once having entered nobody was allowed out under any pretext; all contact with the outside world was completely broken. Our camp, identified as C10, was well organized, well fed, and included a great variety of troops, who were taking part in the invasion, mostly Canadian. At this period various messages were distributed to all units, which had to be read out to all ranks, one from the Supreme Commander Eisenhower, one from Montgomery and one from the divisional commander – for some reason I always hated being wished luck before going into action. While in this camp, I found myself treading on a playing card, which I discovered was the nine of hearts – the luckiest card in the pack. I kept it in my wallet for the rest of the war.

  The weather at the beginning of June was extremely cold and unpleasant, and we all kept wondering whether there would be a postponement. Sometimes I hoped that there would be – a kind of urge to put off the evil hour – and at other times I had a longing to get cracking and to get the thing started.

  On 1 June we left the various camps for Southampton docks to be loaded on the tank landing craft. As we passed through Southampton the people gave us a wonderful welcome and each time that we halted we were all plied with cups of tea and cakes, much to the consternation of the Military Police escorting the column who had strict orders to prevent any contact between civilian and soldier. I wondered so much how many of those good people realized that we were leaving to assault Europe and not proceeding on yet another exercise. The organization for this complicated journey from camp to craft through Southampton was remarkable as regards the move itself, replenishment and rations – considering the mass of vehicles and the vast number of men all to be embarked in the correct sequence, on the right craft, at the right time. Meanwhile all the DD tanks moved from their secret training camps on specially constructed runways, down out of the cliffs to the beaches, and embarked from there onto the landing craft. As soon as it was announced that A Squadron should be the reserve squadron for the invasion, and that B and C Squadrons should undertake the role of DD tanks supporting the first wave of the assaulting troops, the latter two squadrons had the impudence to christen A Squadron ‘The BASE WALLAHS’.

  The Regiment was aboard craft belonging to 15 and 43 LCT Flotilla. Each craft with its crew of three or four, commanded by a sub-lieutenant, could take up to six tanks and their crews, and with a full load on board it was practically impossible to move, let alone find a place to sleep on deck at full length.

  Each tank from RHQ and A Squadron had to be reversed up the ramp of the craft, which was not very wide, so that when the time came to disembark it could proceed forward from off the craft. As soon as each craft had taken on its load it withdrew and tied up alongside the quayside or another craft. These tank landing craft were flat-bottomed and open to the sky, except for a small but comfortable wardroom in the stern. The commander of our craft was a most delightful youngster, who showed great hospitality and insisted that I should use his wardroom at all times. Once the tanks had been embarked the troops were allowed to wander along the quayside, but naturally were strictly prohibited from leaving the dock area. As I wandered along the water front I gazed with amazement at the tremendous variety of craft of all descriptions, including the vast ‘Mulberry’, or artificial harbour, which was to be towed across the Channel to the invasion beaches after the assault. Such a conglomeration of shipping presented a magnificent target for aircraft, and I felt extremely grateful to the RAF for having knocked the German Air Force from the skies.

  The invasion fleet was certainly an impressive sight as it silently sailed down Southampton Water, and I tried to visualize other invasion fleets which had left England over the years, and vaguely wondered whether the invader of bygone days had had the same ‘rats in the stomach’ feeling, which I had then and always experienced before going in to bat, or ride in a steeplechase. I am quite certain that his invading craft was more comfortable than a landing craft tank.

  Almost immediately after we had set sail our craft commander presented each tank commander with a small imitation-leather despatch case, securely wired and sealed, and containing the maps of our invasion area. I immediately set about sorting out my set of maps into the map case and endeavoured to identify from coded maps the various place names and objectives, a somewhat awkward undertaking on a flat-bottomed craft in a choppy sea, and it made me feel decidedly seasick. However, a mug of soup made all the difference. The soup that had been issued to us was contained in an ordinary tin, and when punctured in the base a certain chemical action was set up which heated the soup in five minutes. A most remarkable invention and extremely useful; an excellent piping-hot beverage in an amazingly short time!

  We spent an uneventful, but uncomfortable and sleepless night. It was cold and the sea was very choppy and most of us felt sick, in spite of the seasick tablets that had been issued. At dawn, our very young and pleasant craft commander, who was on his first operational command, was most relieved to find that he had kept station throughout the night and had not completely lost himself. He confided to me that navigation was not his strong subject.

  As dawn broke we heard the preliminary naval bombardment and bombing, and, as we drew nearer to the French coast, we passed by a great variety of naval craft including battleships, cruisers, destroyers, minesweepers and motor torpedo boats that had played their part, either in escorting the invasion fleet or bombarding the beaches.

  At H-hour we switched on the tank wireless sets to find out how B and C Squadrons had fared. Reception was extremely poor and there was continual interference from other stations, which was not surprising considering the tremendous number of frequencies that had to be used on D-Day. I heard the voice of Stephen Mitchell, C Squadron commander, cursing some other station interfering with his ‘net’. He certainly appeared to be most irritated, but it was good to hear his voice, which meant that he was safe for the time being.

  In all, five DD tanks from C Squadron and three of B Squadron sank, but the rest made it, largely thanks to the good sense of the navy. Realizing the sea was far too rough to release the tanks 7000 yards out, as had originally been the plan, the LCTs had gone in to a few hundred yards from the beach instead. Others reached the beach safely only to be hit from the shore defences. A 77mm gun casement at Le Hamel, the western end of Gold Beach where the Sherwood Rangers were landing, proved particularly troublesome.

  Bert Jenkins and his crew had been dropped 700 yards out, reached the beach safely, then had to stop to disengage the propellers. At that moment, the tank was hit, and the canvas screen around them for swimming to the shore went up in flames. Christ, thought Bert, we’re going to be fried in here. We’re finished. But he, Lieutenant Monty Horley, whom he had served under in North Africa, and one other managed to get out and
were crouching behind the tank, wondering how to escape the fray when Monty and the other man were shot and killed. Bert remained there until much later, when the beach was finally cleared. He had no idea what had happened to the fourth and fifth members of his tank – but he was the only survivor. The casement, however, was knocked out by a 25-pounder fired by a member of the Essex Yeomanry – the round went straight through the aperture.

  When we were about a mile from land, all crews were mounted and tank engines running in preparation for landing. The craft had to be steered through the numerous underwater obstacles, just visible above the water, but also had to avoid other LCTs struggling with the same difficulty and all converging on the same point; it was a formidable task for the craft commander. We did, however, ram an obstruction – an iron stake, fortunately not capped with a mine – which prevented further forward movement, but caused no extensive damage. It took a little time to extricate ourselves: we had to reverse and make a complete turn, and as our nose pointed once again towards England I had a sneaking desire to continue in that direction!

  At that time, except for spasmodic shelling directed at the ships and the beaches and the odd sniping, B and C Squadrons appeared to have captured their objectives and silenced all the frontline beach defences, consisting of concrete gun emplacements, and strong-points surrounded by barbed wire.

  About 100 yards from the shore, the craft commander gave the order ‘full speed ahead’ and drove his craft at the shore: when the bows touched down, the ramp was released with a crash, down which each tank slowly and painfully made its way through a few feet of water onto the shore.