6
Operation ‘Neptune’—6 June 1944
Over 16,000 Royal Marines took part in the largest amphibious operation in history. Most of the minor landing craft were manned by Royal Marines, as also were the guns of the support craft, and all capital ships carried an RM detachment. Five RM Commandos (nos 41, 45, 46, 47 and 48) landed during the assault phase, grouped with three Army Commandos into two Special Service Brigades. In addition the Corps provided a number of specialist units including an Armoured Support Group, Beach Clearance and Control parties and Engineers. The first 48 hours of the operation were the most critical, involving a seaborne assault against a heavily protected and strongly held coastline. Most of the Royal Marine Commandos were ashore by 0900 hours on 6 June and had achieved their initial objectives by early on 7 June. The Corps thus played a leading role in the establishment of secure beachheads from which subsequent operations to defeat the German Army in the west were developed. Nine officers and 85 men were killed in action on 6 June. The number of wounded is not known.
The Commando was to land on a Normandy beach code-named ‘Gold’ near Le Hamel due East of Arromanches-les-Bains, at a small town called Asnelles.
Capt. Jeferey’s J4 Commando and Ranger Naval Assault Group Royal Navy were to cross the Channel in LCIs (Landing Craft Infantry) from Warsash (near Southampton). However, 47 Royal Marine Commando embarked on two of the larger ‘mother ships’. They were to cross on two ships, SS Victoria and transfer to the six LCA of 508 Assault Flotilla and HMS Princess Josephine Charlotte’s eight Landing Craft Assault of 502 Assault Flotilla.
Mne John Wetjen, Q-Troop:
D-Day for me began at approx. 0500 hours. Was awakened by the raucous blare, blare of the ships ever-present Tannoy system, Hear this, hear this. ‘Wakey wakey, rise and shine, lash up and stow’. In other words, wash up, dress up and get rid of your hammock! The last item provided in lieu of a bed. Once I got used to it I must say it was pretty comfortable. However, this call brought reality to the fact that the TIME had come. I couldn’t believe it. It’s all a game, I thought! We shall see...
I did as all the others did, threw on my trousers amid a chorus of muttered oaths and muffled groans. I stumbled towards the latrines and washhouse, joining the queue. However, washing and shaving in cold seawater with what purported to be soap was an entirely different matter—I never did manage to raise a lather with those insidious, brownish-yellow lumps the Matelots call soap.
Awake almost, shaved indifferently but certainly refreshed, the temperature of the Channel waters was seemingly still at winter level despite it being June. I was soon back with my comrades in our sleeping/come mess quarters in the bowels of the LSI (Landing Ship Infantry): blankets were rolled and hammocks secured to the ceiling—sorry, bulkheads. Again, the insistent blare of the Tannoy but with better news this time, Hear this, hear this, Mess cooks to the galley. Off rushed the various bods detailed to collect the scram (food) from the ship’s cookhouse—sorry, galley.
I’ll never know how I managed to eat breakfast on that particular morning, especially the way the LSI was pitching and tossing; eggs, bacon and fried bread, washed down with steaming hot mugs of tea— the climax to months of vigorous and sometimes dangerous training.
I and my comrades had breakfasted and then thought to lose it as the LSI was having a good early morning wallow, the seas being exceptionally rough. However, it gave us something to think about as we kitted ourselves out—this time for real! Everything I did had been done a thousand times before but never so carefully and deliberately and certainly never checked so thoroughly. On one glorious May day, sitting on some waste ground, we blacked out anything which might catch the sun and so give away our position. We did it without a twinge of regret for the hours spent on our brasses to bring an appreciative sparkle to the TSM’s eyes. No tears were shed for the money spent from our meagre pay on tins of Brasso and the like—it was one of the most enjoyable days of our time spent in the Royal Marines!
The dreaded Tannoy disturbed the bustle of our dedicated preparations.
‘Hear this, hear this. All Royal Marine Commandos on deck to stand by your LCA stations.’
We had already gone through the drill and knew where to find the craft that was to carry us the last stage of our journey to Normandy. We also knew that France was our destination as had been briefed while waiting to sail from Southampton, the gales having postponed sailing for one day. I still have my two maps of the area which was to be our small part of the success of the landings. All NCOs were given the TOP SECRET maps (Scale: 2.53 ins. To 1 mile) showing literally everything—every known gun of every type, wire, troop positions, etc. I was not an NCO but still had charge of Bren Gun Section and I eventually earned one stripe which made it easier to give orders—but that was weeks later.
We carried out our last check on each other’s equipment and tumbled up the stairs for our fist view of France and of the might of the Invasion Force. HMS LSI Princess Josephine Charlotte, an old ship formerly plying prewar to the continent, was anchored some seven and a quarter miles off Arromanches. Half the Commando were standing by to embark onto their designated LCA. I must explain that we hadn’t had that many desertions, the other half was aboard a similar LSI, the equally old SS Victoria.
The actual fighting strength of the Commando was approximately 450 officers and men which included various attached personnel who only remained with the Commando until the operation was complete. Despite heavy seas it was a lovely morning and before me was a sight which I would never forget. It was astounding—thousands of craft stretched far into the distance, a panorama to be etched on my mind for ever. It reminded me of the pictures seen as a child of the Great Portsmouth Review of the Grand Fleet held before HM King George V in the 1930’s, except that instead of the ordered and disciplined lines of Ironclads steaming majestically down the Solent with flags and pennants aflutter—here were hundreds and hundreds of craft, of all shapes and sizes, higgledy-piggledy, each intent on its own little part within this huge operation, sailing singly but together, making a gigantic whole which defied description.
Ships large and small were spread around us, the tiny dots of LCA scattered like confetti on white-crested rollers, all steering towards the Normandy coast, their rectangular wakes disappearing almost before they were formed. LSI’s discharging their men-filled craft like fish shedding spawn. LST’s, frigates, corvettes, destroyers, cruisers, battleships and minesweepers quartering the sea and many more which I could not identify. One in particular—peculiar looking, ugly, a menacing framework of steel at a 60 to 70 degree angle, seemingly stationary until bursting into a wall of flame as a volley of missiles hurtled towards the coast. I had seen my first rocket ship in action. ‘How do you like it Jerry? Up yours!’
The larger ships were way back astern of us, but each one was dispatching booming volleys of shells over our heads which I could see bursting onshore like bats out of hell. A matelot appeared from nowhere.
‘That’s the Warspite.’
‘How do you know?’(Just making out a burst of flame in the distance)
‘I know them all.’
And he disappeared. One of the former sea marines confirmed that this was right and then he turned and pointed out and named other cruisers and destroyers.
Overhead was the continual drone of our planes, zig-zagging the skies as if shepherding us ashore. I can honestly say that I did not see a single Jerry plane until quite some time after the landing and in any case there would not have been much room for them up there.
The LCA were rectangular craft seating about thirty men on wooden benches on either side and down the centre. The craft were manned by Navy or Marine personnel and propelled from the stern. Each had a ramp at the bow and they were not built for comfort or speed, certainly for neither on this day. As we were lowered onto the crest of a large wave, we immediately plummeted into a large trough—I had forgotten the LCA had a flat bottom. We settled on the bench type seats, first loosening our rucksack straps in case of emergency—90 pounds plus would not be very beneficial if faced with a cross channel swim! These rucksacks replaced the old-type large packs which went back to the First World War or perhaps even earlier. While training we had experimented with various kinds and the one we used had many sizeable pockets which fairly well covered our needs. They were pretty heavy when full and as a bonus each of us carried one 3 inch mortar bomb for the heavy weapons Troop whose firepower consisted of two Heavy Machine Guns and two 3 inch Mortars.
HMS Princess Josephine Charlotte.
L/Cpl Frank Wright, X-Troop:
I’ve never seen a sight like it, before or since. The Solent was jam-packed with ships. Our mother ship, the Princess Josephine Charlotte was moored off Key haven and looking north-east towards Portsmouth was ship after ship of every imaginable type—in a magnificent show of strength. Surely the invasion couldn’t fail—could it? What a target for enemy bombers! But no sign of the Luftwaffe.
We spent three nights on the Princess Josephine Charlotte because of the twenty-four hours postponement. On the third night we set sail away from the safe haven of the Solent.
CSgt Fred Batt, HQ-Troop:
Excitement was terrific—every man keyed up to fighting patch and anxious to do his part so that all may acquit themselves well. Men were rushing up and down ladders—up to see the convoy assembling and moving majestically through the water with a true sense of owning the seas—down to tell those who were still below decks of the wonderful sight which they were missing.
As the evening wore on, I stood on the deck looking at the coastline of Bournemouth which I knew so well, (right across the bay we steamed) wondering what the mission would bring but somehow never doubting that I should return to my own country.
Aircraft zoomed about overhead and to the limits of human eyesight was one terrific mass of shipping—large troopers, smaller landing ships such as ours and then even the tiniest specks which we knew to be landing craft. A magnificent sight which can never be forgotten and all that was needed to justify the feeling of confidence and success of our object which possessed every person aboard that ship.
As dusk fell, and the ship was darkened, I turned away from the deck into my own cubicle and as though the trip were a pleasure cruise, turned into my bunk. Such was the confidence in our Navy which had made its mark over the ship and doubtless the whole terrific force.
Mne Fred Wildman, Heavy Weapons:
We finally set sail and as we got closer to the Normandy area, it became clear to us that we were now part of a huge historical event. The sky was black and dense with aeroplanes and also gliders which were being towed. The sea filled with craft of all shapes and sizes, from huge battleships right down to tugs towing all sorts of strange cargo. The noise was truly astounding and we began to wonder if there would be anything left to capture, little did we know what lay ahead of us.
Combined Ops Signals Officer Charles Armstrong:
That night we steamed slowly down the Solent and out into the channel with a multitude of others. We were on our way to France at last.
We knew exactly where we were going, for on the Monday the captain gave us a final lecture in the wardroom with the charts. The flotilla officer gave us a final briefing of the coastline etc. that we were to assault. LCA 442 was carefully loaded, I had two radio sets. The crew and I packed essential gear in small white kit-bags, and stowed them at the back of the engine room. The R.N. Commando had one radio set type 22 on a hand-cart affair stowed in the boat. We steamed south through the night, I slept in the boat with the crew, as did the other boat officers. We entered the swept channel through the German minefield. It was windy and the sea was quite rough. Dawn broke around 5 o’clock, a little later we anchored about 8 miles from the coast, there was ack ack fire from Le Hamel direction. The Commandos came aboard their landing craft, their confidence and determination was quite apparent, it gave one a feeling of deep respect for them. Their objective was to capture ‘Port-en-Bessin’ at Arromanches, and were to be landed at the western end of the British beach head ‘Gold’ next to the American Sector.