Making smoke and a run ashore on Juno Beach
The second allocated task from HMS Bulolo was to carry out “making smoke” with the on board apparatus from dusk on the 6th and thereafter every morning and dusk in Gold Area until approximately the middle of July. This was a real pain. As dawn was about 0440 and dusk between 2300 and midnight depending on weather conditions that meant the ship only had four free hours in every 24. We had smoke making equipment at the rear that was pretty fierce and the assistance of six LCP(A) boats manned by marines (there would be no invasion without the marines – a great reliable crowd – EXCEPT the cooks!!!).
These LCP(A)s loaded up with about 6 to 9 smoke floats that they unloaded at intervals. We took the inshore half of Gold Sector and our sister ML with a similar marine set-up took the outer position, but it was all governed by wind direction. The other ML was nicknamed “Chaos” because the Skipper had a very public school voice and he used to hail us with his loud hailer often during the day with “Chaos and Bloody Confusion!” which the invasion was on many days and situations. Consequently, the sister ship was nicknamed “Chaos” by us and the cry would go up “Chaos coming alongside” instead of using her number, which everybody acknowledged. The two boats got together most evenings for a couple of gins (no waiting on them this time, they helped themselves) - a great navy! I wonder what the Admiralty would think of that. Balls to them, those officers worked tremendous hours and I appreciated them all.
The boats and marines collected together after the dawn run for tea and bacon sandwiches and a natter and the bootnecks were a fund of information. We used to run out of bacon and bread the first couple of weeks quite early until we made arrangements with the engineers in the Mulberry harbour. They were wonderful get-togethers. Who says the marines and navy don’t gel. This should have been witnessed for all time – a joy to behold.
A few days after D-Day several crew members and I had a run ashore in France. Transport to the beaches was provided by one of the LCP(A)s that had also been part of the smoke laying fleet.
We came ashore on Juno beach towards the westside of Courselles at the precise point where a monument is now erected stating “Here on the sixth June 1944 Europe was liberated by the heroism of the allied forces”. This is recognised by a definite break in the dunes that is still evident 60 years on. In 1944, it was much wider and had probably been enlarged by the bull-dozers. While still intent on meeting French people we reconnoitred this break until we encountered roughly half-a-mile inland the river Suelles that runs parallel with the beach for a short distance over which was a collapsed light steel girder bridge. Although buckled and twisted the Royal Engineers had established a rickety walkway for personnel only. At this point we met out first and only two French civilians. They were accompanied by a couple of RE soldiers who informed us they were mentally deficient, both quite old, toothless, with silly moronic smiles. They lived on the other side of the river in some ruins and the army fed them. The reason for them being accompanied was the bridge walkway was unstable and there was still a number of roped off minefields awaiting clearing.
Both these old stagers carried bass bags, the type we used at home when going to the fish market, which we filled with an assortment of corn beef, mackerel, chocolate and cigarettes. They got all we had brought because the soldiers said there was very little to see on the other side, apart from damaged buildings and very few French people.
On the way up through the dunes we encountered about 25-30 German prisoners of war. We heard them coming long before came into view as they were singing German marching songs. They were accompanied by half-a-dozen squaddies from the Pioneers Corp who had bayonets fixed but their rifles were slung over their shoulders. The atmosphere and conduct was quite friendly between the groups. The majority of the Germans were young lads aged 16 to 19 with about three senior members and most of them were blond or very fair, dressed in shorts, socks and boots and all with healthy-looking tans. According to the corporal in charge they were heading to the beach for onward transportation to a prison camp in Britain.
When we returned to the beach from the collapsed bridge the Germans were sprawled out on the beach waiting for their transport and when we started a kick about with our ball several of them joined in, the guards did not appear unduly worried. Two of them had had fathers who had worked in England, one at the BSA works in Birmingham, and the other who had been a waiter in Hartlepool of all places! When somebody mentioned hanging the monkey and the British started laughing he got rather embarrassed and clammed up. We did not have time to explain as the Beach Master turned up with two cronies and was appalled at the set up. He started shouting and gesticulating and causing mayhem about the fraternising. The funny side to the whole affair was he did not recognise the prisoners for what they were as nobody but the squaddies were wearing uniforms until the corporal informed him, then he really got upset, stopped the football game and everyone had to line up. Two of the Jerries lined up with us, joining the Navy for five minutes that didn’t help matters but the young Jerries certainly had a sense of humour.
It appears the Beach Master should have been informed about the prisoners and the naval party but as our sister ML would agree, it was Chaos & Confusion most of the time on the land and sea. I did manage to ask about the RN beach parties that came ashore on D-Day but he was very cagey and would not elaborate; only stating it was bad due to the delayed breakout. It put a dampener on me for the whole trip ashore.
When we left the beach at around 1730 the corporal and his charges were still awaiting their transport having depleted us of water, chocolate and fags. Actually it left me with a rather good impression of the Germans under duress for the future years.
These LCP(A)s loaded up with about 6 to 9 smoke floats that they unloaded at intervals. We took the inshore half of Gold Sector and our sister ML with a similar marine set-up took the outer position, but it was all governed by wind direction. The other ML was nicknamed “Chaos” because the Skipper had a very public school voice and he used to hail us with his loud hailer often during the day with “Chaos and Bloody Confusion!” which the invasion was on many days and situations. Consequently, the sister ship was nicknamed “Chaos” by us and the cry would go up “Chaos coming alongside” instead of using her number, which everybody acknowledged. The two boats got together most evenings for a couple of gins (no waiting on them this time, they helped themselves) - a great navy! I wonder what the Admiralty would think of that. Balls to them, those officers worked tremendous hours and I appreciated them all.
The boats and marines collected together after the dawn run for tea and bacon sandwiches and a natter and the bootnecks were a fund of information. We used to run out of bacon and bread the first couple of weeks quite early until we made arrangements with the engineers in the Mulberry harbour. They were wonderful get-togethers. Who says the marines and navy don’t gel. This should have been witnessed for all time – a joy to behold.
A few days after D-Day several crew members and I had a run ashore in France. Transport to the beaches was provided by one of the LCP(A)s that had also been part of the smoke laying fleet.
We came ashore on Juno beach towards the westside of Courselles at the precise point where a monument is now erected stating “Here on the sixth June 1944 Europe was liberated by the heroism of the allied forces”. This is recognised by a definite break in the dunes that is still evident 60 years on. In 1944, it was much wider and had probably been enlarged by the bull-dozers. While still intent on meeting French people we reconnoitred this break until we encountered roughly half-a-mile inland the river Suelles that runs parallel with the beach for a short distance over which was a collapsed light steel girder bridge. Although buckled and twisted the Royal Engineers had established a rickety walkway for personnel only. At this point we met out first and only two French civilians. They were accompanied by a couple of RE soldiers who informed us they were mentally deficient, both quite old, toothless, with silly moronic smiles. They lived on the other side of the river in some ruins and the army fed them. The reason for them being accompanied was the bridge walkway was unstable and there was still a number of roped off minefields awaiting clearing.
Both these old stagers carried bass bags, the type we used at home when going to the fish market, which we filled with an assortment of corn beef, mackerel, chocolate and cigarettes. They got all we had brought because the soldiers said there was very little to see on the other side, apart from damaged buildings and very few French people.
On the way up through the dunes we encountered about 25-30 German prisoners of war. We heard them coming long before came into view as they were singing German marching songs. They were accompanied by half-a-dozen squaddies from the Pioneers Corp who had bayonets fixed but their rifles were slung over their shoulders. The atmosphere and conduct was quite friendly between the groups. The majority of the Germans were young lads aged 16 to 19 with about three senior members and most of them were blond or very fair, dressed in shorts, socks and boots and all with healthy-looking tans. According to the corporal in charge they were heading to the beach for onward transportation to a prison camp in Britain.
When we returned to the beach from the collapsed bridge the Germans were sprawled out on the beach waiting for their transport and when we started a kick about with our ball several of them joined in, the guards did not appear unduly worried. Two of them had had fathers who had worked in England, one at the BSA works in Birmingham, and the other who had been a waiter in Hartlepool of all places! When somebody mentioned hanging the monkey and the British started laughing he got rather embarrassed and clammed up. We did not have time to explain as the Beach Master turned up with two cronies and was appalled at the set up. He started shouting and gesticulating and causing mayhem about the fraternising. The funny side to the whole affair was he did not recognise the prisoners for what they were as nobody but the squaddies were wearing uniforms until the corporal informed him, then he really got upset, stopped the football game and everyone had to line up. Two of the Jerries lined up with us, joining the Navy for five minutes that didn’t help matters but the young Jerries certainly had a sense of humour.
It appears the Beach Master should have been informed about the prisoners and the naval party but as our sister ML would agree, it was Chaos & Confusion most of the time on the land and sea. I did manage to ask about the RN beach parties that came ashore on D-Day but he was very cagey and would not elaborate; only stating it was bad due to the delayed breakout. It put a dampener on me for the whole trip ashore.
When we left the beach at around 1730 the corporal and his charges were still awaiting their transport having depleted us of water, chocolate and fags. Actually it left me with a rather good impression of the Germans under duress for the future years.