Normandy Landing

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Smythe, Commodore D.H.D. AO RAN
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Biographies and personal histories, History - WW2, Naval Historical Review
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For five days in June 1944, a young Australian Naval Lieutenant who was serving on exchange duty as the Gunnery Control Officer in a British cruiser kept a diary. Those days covered the days immediately before, and the day itself, of the landings in Normandy on 6th June. The diary was subsequently, after some deletions by the wartime censors, sent to an Australian newspaper.

A Five Day Diary - Second Front

Friday, 2nd June 1944

We’ve just sailed in the British cruiser HMS Danae at the start of the trip which, barring accidents or unkind weather, will finish with the assault on fortress Europe. The Navy’s part will be easier for the individual than the Army’s; I might almost say that we’ll be having a grandstand view from a safe ringside seat, with Tommy Atkins and his Yankee cousin providing the entertainment at the cost of the Hun. But at least we shall be in it, and for that I shall be both proud and thankful. Proud because I will be an officer in a fighting unit of the world’s most famous service in the biggest moment in history, and thankful because to have been away at this moment in some easy situation would have made me extremely disappointed. True, I have had a minor part in other battles of this war, but none of them comparable to this terrific assault which will be to my mind the keypoint of the whole world war.

We slipped unobtrusively out of the Clyde this afternoon, as we have done several times in the past fortnight, and no doubt the shoreside watchers gained the intended impression that we were off for another exercise. But, again all being well, this journey will finish off the coast of France on Monday morning, June 5th 1944 - a date which could become a historical one.

Rear Admiral Patterson leads this particular force. Hardened seadogs and inwardly-scared new entries alike will look to him for leadership and wisdom. From HMS Mauritius he controls us, Force D for Dog, the bombardment force of Force S, the naval covering force for Sword area. His cruiser Mauritius, ourselves, Arethusa and the Polish Dragon, following behind the eleven neat little ships of the 40th minesweeper flotilla, are at the moment strung out in line ahead some miles ahead of the two battleships Warspite and Ramillies, with their screen of four ‘S’ class destroyers and two frigates, Rowley and Holmes. Tonight and tomorrow all should be quiet, and it will not be till Sunday that we shall know whether we are committed to the attack or not. So until then we can take stock of ourselves and prepare for whatever may befall us.

Saturday, 3rd June 1944

The day has passed quietly enough for us, if one can disregard the inescapable undercurrent of excitement and tension that grips us all. Since early morning, as we have crawled southward down the west coast of Britain, we have been constantly passing or being passed by other ships bent on the same enterprise as ourselves. Southward, ever southward, moves the gathering power of our sea might. First, this forenoon, we overhauled and passed a convoy of some fifty vessels, every one of them one of those famed ships produced by the Americans, the Liberty ships. In the afternoon a force of aged US battleships and French cruisers, escorted by speedy, modern Yank destroyers, came up astern and in time disappeared ahead. As I write this we are overhauling another mighty merchant fleet, while throughout tonight we shall pass, no doubt, many another member of our joint forces of liberation.

Devon’s in sight ahead now, as we cross the Bristol Channel, and soon we shall be making the Lizard, with its threat of intensive U-boat concentration and, by tomorrow night, I trust we shall be on our way toward northern France, our goal. Our immediate objective will be Ouistreham, at the mouth of the Orne, and within 48 hours that name among others will be on the lips of millions the world over. I only trust that we all three Services may do justice to the hopes of the world of freedom-loving peoples, that the Navy may live up to its honour and worthily support our brethren in khaki, and that this ship may show that her 25 years of life have not lessened her sting when the great moment comes.

Sunday, 4th June 1944

Well, sure enough, there’s been a postponement of 24 hours, and the weather (which is the reason) may make an even longer postponement necessary. At 0700 this morning, just as we’d passed the Lizard, we turned 180 degrees and since then have been retracing our steps. Close behind us another cruiser squadron is doing the same. Consisting of the US Ships Tuscaloosa and Quincy and the Britishers Glasgow, Enterprise, Hawkins, Bellona and Black Prince, they had just overhauled and passed us at the Lizard when we got word to turn back. Astern of them are Texas, Arkansas and Nevada, the old Yank battlers, and ahead of us are Ramillies and Warspite. It’s all rather disheartening, as we were all keyed up to it, but this isn’t the first experience of the kind that I’ve had and probably won’t be the last. I only hope we don’t run out of fuel earlier than all the others (which is likely) and find ourselves left behind when the attack comes.

Monday, 5th June 1944

Well, tomorrow’s the day - or as it is known throughout the world, D Day. We’ve retraced our steps again and at the moment are just turning south from the Isle of Wight with Portsmouth astern. Once again the day has been one long continuation of ships as we steamed along the coast from Land’s End to the Solent. In the last few hours the landing craft have appeared, to add to the squadrons and convoys of warships and merchant ships already at sea. In flotillas of thirty or forty ships, they are coming out from their pre-invasion ports in literally thousands, and turning south for their goal. At dusk tonight we shall go to Action Stations and remain there until it’s all over, so we’re busily preparing everything for our long vigil. Tomorrow at dawn we strike the blow for freedom.

Tuesday, 6th June 1944

We went to Action Stations at 2215 and shortly afterwards turned into the specially well-swept channel leading to the assault area. This channel, swept a few hours before by hundreds of our minesweepers, was divided into twelve narrow lanes, each being for ships or groups of different speeds. Being in the faster category, we were continually passing the others throughout the night. As far as the eye could see, the horizon to starboard was covered by the odd silhouettes of the assorted landing craft. Each flotilla separated from the next by a few cables only, they made a sight such as I never expect to see again. The power behind those serried columns of ships was brought home forcibly and the organisation, although I had already seen it all in print, became practically evident as a masterpiece in planning. Columns of 5,000 ton LSAs (Landing Ship Assault) with their davits packed with LCAs (Landing Craft Assault) were surrounded on every side by the LCT and LCI Flotillas (Landing Craft, Tank and Infantry). Large unwieldy LSTs (Landing Ship Tanks), LCFs (Landing Craft Flak), LCTRs (the rocket firing LCTs) and even LCKs (Landing Craft Kitchen) were all ploughing steadily through the choppy sea. These made up the initial D Day assault craft for the British landings only, the American ships being further to the westward, so it was not hard to believe the official statement that over 4,000 ships were taking part, besides several thousand smaller craft.

As the night darkened, the sky on our starboard and port bows was lit by brilliant flashes, and over all was a red glow as the Air Force pounded away at the batteries on the Cherbourg and Le Havre peninsulas. At about 0200 I remembered that now the Airborne Divisions were dropping down inland from the coast and shortly afterwards the transports and gliders of the later waves of paratroopers flew overhead slightly to the eastward of us. The task of these men was to infiltrate their way back to the coast, silencing such batteries as were not knocked out by the Air Force or ourselves in the hours before the main touchdown.

At 0400 the sky ahead, over Ouistreham and Caen, was being startled into life by glittering, sparkling, corkscrewing tracers, flung at our bombers. There was still, however, no sign of enemy attack from our exposed flank to port and, as darkness turned to grey, we drew ahead of the leading landing craft and stood in towards the Seine Estuary. Splitting apart at the apex of the pear-shaped swept channel, our bombardment force crept down to its firing position, the leaders meeting again at the bottom as we took up our stations for the first shoots.

At 0510, with twilight beginning, each ship was in her place to the minute. Still apparently unseen by the shore batteries, we drifted quietly with our engines stopped, contacting our spotting Spitfires and preparing for the first salvos.

Now it’s 0517, and the eight ships open up on the prearranged battery targets. A slight hitch for us when we fail to contact our aircraft, but we fire away nevertheless with a calculated range at the unseen targets. It is light now, and shells from hidden guns on the Havre and Deauville hills to port begin to fall amongst us, but only in such small numbers as to make it obvious that the RAF have done a good job. The landing craft are coming up astern now, creeping towards the beaches. But first must come the beachdrenching, and the destroyers slide inshore to begin the devastation. Now their guns add to the increasing crescendo of noise, as they blast away at the shoreline. Next come the daylight precision bombers, and as they calmly and with calculated perfection smother the foreshore with their bombs, I see for the first time just what precision bombing means, and momentarily feel sorry for the Huns. Meanwhile, the Rocket LCTs are closing the beach, and an astonishing spectacle is revealed to us as they open up with their hundreds of flaming rockets, pouring death into the houses along the beach. In answer to them the flak from the shore intensifies, and smoke pours forth, not only from the burning buildings ashore, but also from several of our craft. But the Germans still seem dazed, their air force has not put in a single appearance, and my impression is that it’s all too good to last. It can’t be true that we have really surprised them or, if we have, surely in a matter of minutes the Luftwaffe will be screaming down on us. But no, it is now five minutes before H hour, and as our initial assault craft close the shore, following the channels blasted for them through the underwater obstacles, the resistance is still slight. The bombing has stopped, the bombardment behind the beaches has been lifted and as our watches show 0725 to the second the barges touch down all along the coast as far as the eye can see to the westward and the infantry, the tanks, the Bren gun carriers and the mobile guns stream up the beaches. The Allied Expeditionary Force of Liberation has landed in Europe!

From H hour onwards the landing devolved into a series of waves of further soldiery and equipment being put ashore from landing craft, which were all the time coming in from seaward. As the army landed, so it disappeared from our view into the rows of houses, fast becoming rubble, forming the frontage of Ouistreham. From our position we could not hear the gunfire from shore above our own salvos, but from the flying incendiaries, the sharp bursts of black-smoke explosions, and the powdery disintegration of one building after another, it was obvious that fierce attempts were being made by the Germans to frustrate our advance. It was at about this stage that, following an urgent call for fire from a unit ashore, we carried out an impromptu indirect bombardment of a position held by the Germans just inland from Ouistreham itself. We had just bracketed the target (a stubborn gun position, we heard later) when the Spitfire who was spotting for us went suddenly off the air. Poor chap, it seems pretty certain that he must have been shot down. (Later we heard that he had indeed been, but that the pilot was safe). Anyway, nothing daunted, we went ahead, firing for effect with rapid fire and the army was then able to push on.

All this time the shore batteries, particularly those on Le Havre headland and those above Trouville and Deauville to port who were able to enfilade the beaches, were firing steadily. They appeared to divide their attentions equally between the beaches and our own force of bombarding ships and there were some very close misses in amongst our ships. Ramillies, Warspite, Arethusa and the monitor Roberts were replying in kind, and very soon the Huns were all keeping quiet, knowing that their flashes were only drawing our fire. One of their shells, whining over our heads, landed directly aboard an LCT about half a mile ahead. The result was the most complete example of destructive annihilation I’ve ever seen. A blinding flash, a swirl of water, and then nothing but about an acre of fiercely burning oil and wreckage. A great pall of black smoke drifted down-wind, adding itself to the smoke screen made by MTBs, destroyers, and smoke laying aircraft, to obscure us and the beaches from the Havre batteries.

At about 0800 a slight diversion was caused by a small group of E Boats who, rounding Le Havre headland, came through the smoke screen intent on mischief. Their reception, consisting of very accurate fire from Mauritius and a concerted charge by a dozen or so MTBs, so affected them as to cause a very swift turn and a rapid retreat whence they came.

So the day wore on, and still there seemed an almost unbelievable lack of opposition from the enemy. Inland, of course, the army was meeting some fierce fighting, but were still pushing on steadily towards Caen. Our FOB ashore (Forward Observation Bombardment Officer) could apparently find no suitable targets for us inland, so we occupied ourselves by joining in the duel with the Deauville and Trouville Batteries, at which direct bombardment was possible. Sharing one battery at Houlgate with Arethusa and Roberts, we had just achieved a near hit when a salvo from Roberts finished our shoot in that direction. Falling directly on to the target, it produced a most dramatic and complete disintegration of the battery, whose ammunition, exploding at the same time, produced a high column of smoke and flame which was pretty to watch. Shortly before this Ramillies had also scored a direct hit on a large calibre battery further north on the peninsula at Bennerville, so it became obvious that very little more trouble would come from those quarters.

In about the middle of the afternoon the enemy delivered their first and only air attack of the day. Flying in low and fast, three Junkers 88s sped along the beaches, dropping their bombs and firing their cannon, and then zooming away into the clouds hotly pursued by over a dozen Spitfires. I believe these three formed part of a squadron of a dozen, the others of whom attacked the landings west of us, four being brought down by our fighters.

At half past five in the evening, just over twelve hours after our first shot, we received orders to withdraw. The bombardment, together with the RAF heavy bombing, had so lessened the strength of the shore batteries as to allow us to depart, as we had much to do on our return to Portsmouth. So, leaving the rest of Force D still hungrily eyeing the hills for signs of gunfire, and still with an impression that the whole operation had been too good to be true, we left the offshore area and set course northwards at 23 knots. The return journey, accomplished in half the time taken for the outward trip, was uneventful so far as enemy interference was concerned. The channel was even more packed with ships than during the previous night, as there was now a continuous twoway stream - the original assault craft, returning empty for more, and complete new flotillas of craft taking out consolidating troops. As we dropped anchor in the Solent at 2230, I think everyone on board was able, before falling asleep where they stood, to breathe a threefold prayer of thanks. First, that we had successfully accomplished our duty of getting the army ashore, second that we were still unscathed, and third, that we have been able to witness the most inspiring spectacle that is liable to occur in this war.

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