Able Seaman George Stott

Able Seaman GEORGE STOTT of Dumers Lane, Radcliffe, was only aged 22 when thousands of men poured from hundreds of ships on to the beaches.

ON Sunday, June 5, we moved anchorage to a position just outside Portsmouth Boom. As we moved slowly between the many troop carriers we heard the songs of an invading army -- here were the Yanks, the Tommies, the Cannucks and every other nationality all as one, but singing their own particular national songs.

As it neared midnight, silence reigned except for the lapping of the waves against the mighty ship sides. Up came the anchor and we were off on our great adventure. We had a few hours sleep and just before dawn we were piped out of hammocks and we quickly dressed into warm clothing and waited for the big moment. It was a terribly rough sea and the thought of being lowered into that black swelling turmoil made my stomach turn double somersaults.

Streaks of dawn on the horizon were the prelude to the anchor dropping noisily into the black inferno. Up went the battle ensign, troops filed into their boats and I found myself stood on the stern of my landing craft waiting to unhook the shackles which would send us on our way.

Then, the orders came, the booming voice of the skipper, the piping voice of the First Lieutenant, "Stand by in the boats", then a prolonged pause... "Lower away".

We dropped steadily, the waves lashed our bottom and strove to tear us away from our hooks, then came the final order, "Let go", and amid the cheers of the ship's company we buffeted our way, Normandy bound.

Our escort picked us up and we followed her slowly, there must have been hundreds of boats all around us, landing devices one could never have dreamed of, a truly remarkable sight. Planes roared overhead, giving us a feeling of confidence. I was in the leading boat in our flotilla and as I looked back at the other five, directly behind them I saw (in the next boat) the Canadian Padre, his head in his hands praying for the safety of his men. I found myself praying too and I felt much better.

We crept slowly towards the French coastline and it wasn't long before we could pick out individual landmarks including two conspicuous church steeples, one of which was our own particular landmark.

The atmosphere was tense now. I must admit I was more scared now than ever before in my whole life.

Then the sparks started to fly. It seemed as if Krupps Armament factory was being thrown at us, mortars, machine gun bullets and rifle fire met us from every angle. Just before we touched down we encountered long staves with beach mines, fastened to them, also barbed wire, our coxswain neatly and skilfully dodged them. As we touched the sandy beach the ramp crashed down. At first, for maybe three seconds, no one moved then with a rush, away the troops went, right into the fray.

It didn't take us long to get the boat off but as we moved we had a miraculous escape as a mortar fell within a few feet off our port bow. We all felt the blast and experienced the sickly smell of burnt powder in our nostrils.

We steamed full speed for about 15 minutes then scanned the beach behind us for our other boats. We could still see two on the beach and slowly one of them came astern but she seemed to be floundering badly as we went to her assistance and tied up alongside her. She was sinking, but we seized buckets and pumps and tried unsuccessfully to bale the water out. It was at this point I saw my shoes disappear on the tip of a green wave, my socks were inside them.

At last we decided to sink her so that there was no chance of her falling into enemy hands, so we opened all the hatches and hopped aboard smartly.

We then decided to make our way back to our carrier ship which lay four miles out to sea, it seemed as if our chances of getting back were very slim. Our flat bows shook with rage at cruel waves. We crashed and buffeted, nose-dived, tossed and turned, we didn't seem to move an inch.

For hours we strived until at last we sighted our goal on the horizon but that didn't mean our troubles were over. We saw small boats sink like stones in the heavy swell. We saw a destroyer blow up in smoke after being hit by a shore battery and on top of all that we had a boat full of water. I baled water out with a fellow seaman, we had two pumps taking it in turns, and we never stopped until we reached our ship.

Even then our troubles were not over, we tried time after time, after time to get alongside our ship but each time the wind forced us away. I could have cried but I was too cold to even do that. I looked a pathetic figure stood in my bare feet on the stern. At last we made it and we were hoisted carefully back into position on the davits, was I glad to get aboard a steady and firm ship again.

We were given an extra tot of rum by the skipper, a good dinner by the ship's chief cook and a well-earned sleep.

We had lost two boats out of six, we had brought back the whole crew of one but the other lost it's officer, killed and rating badly wounded. He was the best officer we had and he was mourned by all who knew him.

The trip back to England was uneventful, we had aboard some army casualties, one a Marine Commando shot through the head. He was buried at sea.

We made 17 further trips to France, we took Yanks, Canadians, British and French soldiers.

We also did mail trips and on one of these we took Eric Barker and his merry-go-round show, he gave us a bumper show on the deck on the way across.