To Normandy

To Normandy
by S/Sgt. Fred Web

Like many old soldiers in my age group, many of them must remember being chased out of Dunkirk and being rescued by the brave fishermen and ordinary people in small boats, some lashed together for stability, all the time under gunfire. Returning to the UK we were re-kitted, re-armed and retrained to take part in the Normandy Landings.

On 10th June 1944, we were moved from our base camp to join up in convoy, and then rendezvoused at Tilbury. Arriving late in the evening the same day, we halted, parked our Lorries on the grass verges, and were told to remain steady until further orders. This was a welcome break, and we spent the time making a brew and breaking in to our ration packs. The rest of the evening was spent chatting to interested civilians, card playing, etc, until finally, rather weary, we curled up in our vehicle cabs, and made the most of an uncomfortable kip.
The next morning arrived with abrupt shouting from a dispatch rider on motorcycle – get ready to move off!
It was around 0100 hrs when we set off to the docks, where our vehicles were made safe, and we were formed up and marched down to the dockside to board the ship, which was an American Liberty ship, the “Park Benjamin”.

Once onboard, we were hustled below deck to a large steel room – the hold, where we dropped our kit and flopped down to stretch out, with just enough room to do it. It wasn’t easy to find sleep again, what with the overcrowding and the heat that had built up.

At around 07.30 hrs, we all became alert as some vibration and a deep throbbing sound told us that the ship’s engines had started. With a little consternation as to where we were going, we were soon on our way. We had PT training on the upper deck, which was reduced to a jog round the outer gangway due to the lack of space. We were able to move around above deck and meet other army personnel. Someone remarked, “If you go to the port side we are passing by Canvey”, but of course it was too far to swim to, although the thought did enter my head.
I was sitting with some of my pals in the sun, playing cards, smoking and chatting about the future. Excitement built up again as we passed Southend Pier. As we went by, the banter died down and it became very quiet. Then a heavy deep rattling sound could be heard…the ship was dropping her anchor. The desire came again for a good swim.

The Landing:
On 13th June 1944, we were all given a ‘Mae West’ to attach round our necks, and then we were all mustered to the top deck, where we had to climb over the side, in all our battle equipment, down the rope ladders to the Landing Craft alongside below. When full, it chugged away landwards and ground to a halt on 'Ver-Sur-Mer' (Sun Beach) at Normandy.

My lorry, a 3-ton Bedford, was parked in an orchard. It was already loaded with stores, having been shipped across previously. With my second driver, Frank Todd, we loaded our equipment and were setting about making a brew (which was a concentrated tea cube boiled in our mess tin), and next thing we knew we were told to dig in. There we spent an uncomfortable night in the ‘foxhole’ we had dug out for ourselves, all the time hearing the noises of battle in the distance.

The next day we moved on, though only for a couple of miles, where we were told to dig in again and keep under cover. More gunfire, ‘moaning minnies’ (mortar shells) exploding all around, the ‘chit-chit-chit’ sound as the bullets from machine guns whipped through the wheat crop in which we were hiding in a field.

The next thing I knew, I woke up in a tented field hospital with my leg bandaged up having sustained a shrapnel wound, nothing too serious, but well remembered by a scar. I was lucky - twenty-seven men from my company did not return, including five of my friends. Those of us who came back received medals, but we did not need the handshakes, or the glory. Just a little recognition.

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