by Jon E. Lewis
Ken Coney, Royal Corps of Signals
Diary, 6 June
07.55. We have landed in two feet of water and take cover on the beach. Bullets are zipping through the sea, two Sherman tanks go up in flames. We move along the beach.
08.30. Now we have dug in before a Jerry strong point. A CEP is there. Dead and dying are everywhere. I can’t understand why I am not frightened. The shelling is getting worse. MG [machine-gun fire] opens up from the flank. I see a few POWs huddled in the sea, terror-stricken of their own fire. I have exultation at the sight.
10.00. Still hell on the beach.
War Diary: 8th Canadian Infantry Brigade, Juno Beach
Driver John Osborne, 101 Company General Transport Amphibious
Leaving the sea I saw a young soldier about my age lying half in the water. I was looking down, feeling sorry for him, when I heard a loud explosion in front. I jerked my head around and saw a large piece of something floating down towards me – it was the hatch-cover off the engine compartment of the DUKW in front, the bows of which were now curved up. The driver, Stan Hall, was nowhere in sight but his co-driver George Burton came running towards me yelling like hell. He had actually been blown out of the DUKW! I stopped and pulled him aboard. He was unhurt, except that both his ears had been completely skinned. I later learned that Stan Hall was still alive, but had had his bottom jaw blown off.
James Gallagher, RE
The German artillery piece had been put out of action and replaced by a British gun which the RA boys were operating to good effect. On the outside wall of the encampment were chalked the words: ‘UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT – DAY AND NIGHT SERVICE.’
Anonymous Sergeant, RE
We got to the top of the rise [when] I saw my first German. He was alive, but not for long. These two Canadians behind me … went up through this opening in the sea wall … The Jerry came out of the emplacement with a Schmeisser. I thought, Christ! They haven’t seen him … But they just didn’t stop running. They just cracked their rifle butts down on the German and that was that.
T. Tateson, Green Howards
The beach was in a state of organized chaos with tanks, guns, jeeps, trucks, personnel carriers and every type of vehicle, some of which had been hit and knocked out. The heather or grass off the beach was burning and clouds of smoke prevented a view of what lay beyond. Wounded men, including some Germans, were sitting at the top of the beach, and stretcher-bearers were carrying others down to the boats from which we had landed. We walked along the top of the beach to reach our intended landing place, which was the road leading inland from le Riviere to Ver-sur-mer.
Major F.D. Goode, Gloucestershire Regiment
I concentrated on following the taped guys to my left through the dunes marked by a wrecked Sherman flail tank … I stopped for a while to look at my map but we were off it and my best bet was to find the lateral road and turn right in the direction of Le Hamel. We were now in an area of the main German beach defences, which had been heavily plastered by the Navy and RAF. Pill-boxes and blockhouses were shattered and I have a clear recollection of one embrasure out of which a German officer had tried to climb; it had descended on top of him and squashed his top half, leaving his legs with a pair of well-polished boots protruding.
W. Emlyn ‘Taffy’ Jones, 1st Special Service Brigade
I remember Sergeant Ian Grant, cameraman of the Army Film and Photo Unit – ‘Jock’ as I affectionately called him – attached himself to me. We’d had a few words together on the way over. He was a cool customer. The enemy fire didn’t seem to bother him, he wanted pictures and on a few occasions I had to tell him to get his head down before he had it blown off. As we came off the beach we again came under heavy fire and we dived into the nearest ditch. On looking up, I noticed ‘a piece of steak’ on the rear of his shoulder and without a word I pulled out my commando dagger and quickly flicked the offensive piece of meat away. ‘What’s up?’ said Jock, feeling a little nudge. ‘I don’t know, but I think somebody is trying to hit us,’ I replied.
Trooper Peter Davies, 1st East Riding Yeomanry
On the way [off the beach] we passed about in all a dozen French civilians. They were mostly old and didn’t look very excited – if they’d had to go through the preliminary bombardment that is hardly surprising.
Ken Wright, 1st Special Service Brigade
There was a huge pill-box right in front of us as we landed, and there was a lot of fire coming from there and from the chateau behind it. I think I must have walked through a machine-gun arc at this time, though I noticed nothing then, for a little later I found bullet holes in my right thigh and left calf. I certainly was in luck that day!
Captain Peter Young, 1st Special Service Brigade
We trot down the inland side of the dunes, dash across a road and a tram-line, and hurl ourselves over a wire fence, no great obstacle. The soldiers come swarming down the slope. Away to the left a quick-firing gun opens up. A shell smacks into the soft ground behind us, and something like the kick of a mule hits me on the right shoulder blade.
‘That was a near one,’ shouts RSM [Regimental Sergeant-Major] Stenhouse.
‘Near one be damned, it hit me!’
This marsh is not the place to linger in. We push on. Progress is slow, floundering and leaping across deep slimy ditches. But the soft ground minimizes the effect of the German shells. Even so Lieutenant Cowieson, of 5 Troop, has a nasty wound, and Sergeant King takes over his section. No. 3 Troop has lost Sergeant Dowling, wounded by a shell that landed within a yard of him.
At length we reach the forming-up place. Except for 6 Troop the Commando is still more or less intact. Donald Hopson comes up and reports. Then Cowieson appears, assuring me that he is all right, but he seems to be pretty hard hit and I tell him to go back. John Pooley, my Second-in-Command, has also been hit. He soon appears, however, not much the worse for a near miss, though he has a gash on his lip. I move my right arm about and find that it is still in working order; a clod must have hit my equipment.
Near our forming-up place a company commander of one of the assault battalions sits under a hedge with his CSM [Company Sergeant-Major] and two others, waiting for his men whom we last saw digging-in on the beach a thousand yards behind him …
Suddenly there comes an unearthly, blood-chilling, bellowing noise like a gigantic cow in agony and six bombs land in the next field in a cloud of black smoke – our first meeting with ‘Moaning Minnie’, the German six-barrelled mortar.
‘Ah, Nebelwerfer,’ says Donald Hopson in his usual cool manner, as if it were some sort of military curio that he has been wanting to add to his collection.
Taking a quick look round to check whether everyone is present, I see Captain Martin again.
‘All up, Slinger?’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’ ‘Good. Vörwats!’ and the advance begins again.
The Allies had broken through Hitler’s Atlantic Wall. By midday the Canadians, British and Americans were everywhere on the move inland, plodding up narrow lanes, wading through marshes, edging through Norman orchards bounded by high hedges and along village streets. In the east the British struck out towards their D-Day objectives of Caen, Bayeaux and, in the case of the commandos of Lord Lovat’s 1st Special Service Brigade, the reinforcement of the flank on the Orne held by the 6th Airborne Division.
Report: 79th Armoured Division
The [AVRE] crew made their way to Hermanville on foot, led by the crew commander, Sgt Kilvert. Reaching a high farm wall they were checked by heavy small arms fire, which they answered with Brens. Then Sgt Kilvert burst open the farm door and, covered by his crew, raked the farmhouse with fire killing eleven Germans. They later routed an enemy patrol on the same road and handed over to the infantry.
Lieutenant H.T. Bone, 2nd East Yorkshire Regiment
The move inland was not much fun since, although we had cleared the beach defences, Jerry was mortaring us pretty badly from his rear positions. Besides, we had to cross a marsh a
nd in places we were up to our armpits in muddy water and slime. The mortars had our range and as I helped my people through the deep parts (why are all Yorkshire signallers only 5 ft 2 in?) they were bursting only 50 yards behind us. We had just got across the deepest drain when Jerry hit. Then for about half an hour we had a rest while the companies fought the next battle and the commandos streamed through us to do their job …
We could not get away, neither could we dig. The ground was hard and tangled with roots, the bombs were bursting literally everywhere all the time. I laid on my face for a few moments then, seeing the Provost sergeant hit five yards away, I pushed over to him and shoved my field dressing on the back of his neck. He had a piece through his shoulder, but it was not serious, and we got him out of it. (Curious how everyone turns yellow when hit.) We all had to get out of it, and we did. The attack went in the rear instead and was successful, lots of Jerry prisoners being captured, but Dicky was killed and Hurch wounded, as well as a good many others.
Captain David Tibbs, Regimental Medical Officer, 13th Battalion, Parachute Regiment
Fierce fighting was going [on all] around while the Germans tried to recapture the bridges over the canal and the river at Le Bas de Ranville itself was almost in the front line. The Germans were only a few hundred yards away from Le Bas de Ranville and attacking it fiercely all the time, just as Ranville itself was under counter-attack from the Germans who were beginning to send in elements of the 21st Panzer Division.
The scene around the Field Ambulance, which was occupying a chateau in Le Bas de Ranville, was extraordinary. We were, the 9th Parachute Brigade, by this stage confined to a very tight area in Ranville and Bas de Ranville and the Germans were fiercely attacking, which meant there were consistent storms of mortars coming down and a number of casualties occurring all the time. In the Field Ambulance itself a large number, perhaps a hundred or two [hundred] wounded, had been brought and were filling the buildings … The surgeons were doing their best to cope with some of the worst wounded who would benefit most; for example, those with haemorrhagic or thoracic wounds. The scene was one of noise, of wounded men, but nevertheless of organisation.
W. Emlyn ‘Taffy’ Jones, 1st Special Service Brigade
I saw Sergeant-Major Harry Larkman legging it over a barbed wire fence into a field. ‘Harry,’ I shouted, ‘What the Hell do you think you’re doing? Can’t you read German? Look between your legs’, and when he did there was a notice saying ‘Achtung Minen’. He gave a wry smile and waved then took another route. Now it was open country and we had broken through the ‘Atlantic Wall’ – marshland lay ahead. There was no cover and progress was slow. Shells and mortars came raining down but luckily the soft ground minimized the effect of the bombardments. Into a copse at the top of the rise, a slight rest and then on to Colleville where we were met by enemy small-arms fire; many enemy snipers around but progress had to be made – time was of the essence. The airborne troops who landed during the night of 5/6 June were holding the bridges at Benouville and the Commando Brigade had promised to relieve them by midday. Through Colleville and on to St Aubin D’Arquenay where we met with very little resistance, though one had to be aware of snipers. From there on to Benouville where once again we had trouble with snipers. While on our way to Benouville we heard what we thought could only be a tank coming from our road. This would be a great help to us but, unfortunately, it turned out to be one of our bulldozers. We warned the driver to stay put as the area wasn’t cleared yet, but he insisted he’d had his orders. We were to meet again a few hundred yards down the road – he was slumped over his wheel, a bullet through his head. Now lay the approach road to the bridge – now known as Pegasus Bridge. A halt was called and we were thankful for the break but still couldn’t relax as the enemy were keeping up a relentless bombardment.
The time came for us to cross the bridge which was under a smoke haze. Lord Lovat was standing in the middle of the road, just a few yards from the bridge, oblivious of the enemy fire which came raining down from the Château de Benouville on the west bank of the canal a few hundred yards to the south. A number of dead Germans lay around, obviously victims of the airborne assault. To the east side of the canal lay the gliders which had landed during the night. Lord Lovat standing there reminded me of a policeman on traffic duty, urging us on. ‘Don’t run across the bridge – walk,’ were his orders. Then it was my turn to go, passing some airborne lads who were dug in at the side of the bridge. ‘Good luck, keep going, there’s another bridge,’ they shouted. I think it must have been one of the fastest walks I have ever undertaken, feeling so vulnerable with bullets pinging off the steel girders and a fair amount of mortar fire. Soon I was across and into a ditch on the other side – a slight breather.
London Gazette: Victoria Cross citation for No. 4390973 Warrant Officer Class II (Company Sergeant-Major) Stanley Elton Hollis, The Green Howards
CSM Hollis was the only serviceman to win the VC on D-Day.
In Normandy on 6 June, 1944, during the assault on the beaches and the Mont Fleury Battery, C.S.M. Hollis’s Company Commander noticed that two of the pill-boxes had been by-passed, and went with C.S.M. Hollis to see that they were clear. When they were 20 yards from the pill-box, a machine-gun opened fire from the slit and C.S.M. Hollis instantly rushed straight at the pill-box, firing his Sten gun. He jumped on top of the pill-box, re-charged his magazine, threw a grenade in through the door and fired his Sten gun into it, killing two Germans and making the remainder prisoner. He then cleared several Germans from a neighbouring trench. By his action, he undoubtedly saved his Company from being fired on heavily from the rear and enabled them to open the main beach exit.
Later the same day, in the village of Crepon, the Company encountered a field gun and crew armed with Spandaus at 100 yards range. C.S.M. Hollis was put in command of a party to cover an attack on the gun, but the movement was held up. Seeing this, C.S.M. Hollis pushed right forward to engage the gun with a P.I.A.T. from a house at 50 yards range. He was observed by a sniper who fired and grazed his right cheek, and at the same moment the gun swung round and fired at point-blank range into the house. To avoid the fallen masonry C.S.M. Hollis moved his party to an alternative position. Two of the enemy gun crew had by this time been killed, and the gun was destroyed shortly afterwards. He later found that two of his men had stayed behind in the house and immediately volunteered to get them out. In full view of the enemy who were continually firing at him, he went forward alone using a Bren gun to distract their attention from the other men. Under cover of his diversion, the two men were able to get back.
Wherever fighting was heaviest, C.S.M. Hollis appeared and in the course of a magnificent day’s work, he displayed the utmost gallantry and on two separate occasions his courage and initiative prevented the enemy from holding up the advance at critical stages. It was largely through his heroism and resource that the Company’s objectives were gained and casualties were not heavier, and by his own bravery he saved the lives of many of his men.
Platoon commander, Canadian Scottish
An LMG which sounded like a Bren opened up from a position about 150 yards away. We hit the dirt and I shouted. ‘This must be the Winnipegs. When I say “UP” – all up together and shout “WINNIPEGS”.’ We did, and to our surprise two enemy infantry sections stood up just 125–150 yards ahead. They too were a picture of amazement. Their camouflage was perfect and it was no wonder we did not see them earlier. But the stunned silence did not last long. There was only one course of action, and to a man the platoon rushed the enemy positions. It was a bitter encounter with much hand-to-hand fighting.
T. Tateson, Green Howards
Without warning, a salvo of gunfire landed right in the middle of the troops to our immediate left, followed by a second shortly afterwards. From messages being passed on the radio, I learned that no one knew who was responsible except that it was coming from behind us. When a third salvo descended with the most enormous crack my signal training dese
rted me and I sent the unauthorized message, ‘Stop this fucking barrage.’ By complete coincidence, but to the flattery of my ego, the firing ceased. We later learned that it came from the Navy lying offshore, who did not realize we had advanced so far.
The speed of the British advance also caught German units unaware.
Anonymous German Private
Right in the middle of all this turmoil I got orders to go with my car for a reconnaissance towards the coast. With a few infantrymen I reported to a lieutenant. His orders were to retake a village nearby. While he was still talking to me to explain the position, a British tank came rolling towards us from behind, from a direction in which we had not even suspected the presence of the enemy. The enemy tank immediately opened fire on us. Resistance was out of the question. I saw how a group of Polish infantrymen went over to the enemy – carrying their machine guns and waving their arms. The officer and myself hid in the brush. When we tried to get through to our lines in the evening British paratroops caught us.
At first I was rather depressed, of course. I, an old soldier, a prisoner of war after a few hours of invasion. But when I saw the material behind the enemy front, I could only say, ‘Old man, how lucky you have been!’
In the meantime the ‘Tommy’ advance went resolutely on.
Major F.D. Goode, Gloucestershire Regiment
Our advance was to be supported by rocket-firing Typhoons of the RAF. The enemy was holding the hedge on the opposite side of the field some 150 yards away. At this point I took the time to change my shirt and vest for dry ones from my pack as I was soaked with seawater and sweat. I am vague as to the time but it must have been after midday, as the sun was high. We heard the roar of the engines of the aircraft as they swept over us at almost ground level. They released their rockets behind our position and we could hear these swish over our heads. The whole line of the hedge opposite burst into flames with a thunderous bang and we clambered through our hedge and advanced through the dead cattle. There did not seem to be any firing from the direction of the enemy and when we arrived at their position it was deserted.
