EvanL
06-06-2004, 12:20 AM
A few hours ago I was in France. I have come back to try to describe the beginning of the liberation of France, to describe only what I myself saw in the immortal hours between the dawn of Tuesday morning and last night when I left in a destroyer. This is sort of an introductory bulletin.
It really does seem like a dream to be back. Less than three days ago, I was listening to the singing of English birds, wondering if I would hear them again.
Now I am listening to them again, in the open air, near one of the English invasion ports. In between those singings, I have heard the birds of France and seen the hedgerows of Normandy, full of roses, seen the heroic Canadian and British assault troops go up the fearful beaches and seen the beginning of the end after these four long, black years.
It really does seem strange that only 48 hours ago I was swimming and wading onto the beach in France in a roaring battle.
When I left the front yesterday, the battle was going well. Both the Canadians and the British had taken almost all their objectives by nightfall on D-Day.
But early yesterday, Rommel was throwing in his armour in fierce counterattacks. Fortunately our advance assault troops had lots of fire support. We got our tanks ashore on D-Day despite the rough seas, as well as our self-propelled and anti-tank guns.
Yesterday, I saw the Canadians, aided by the Air Force, repel two counterattacks south of the landing beaches.
We had expected to do well on that first day. We knew we could crash through the famous West Wall, yet it was surprising that we did so well. The German defenders of the beaches were not Rommel's crack troops, but they had concrete positions to fight from and every inch of the beaches was registered by heavy machine guns and 75s.
(photo courtesy National Archives of Canada / PA-204812)
Our forces gave supporting fire as we came in from the sea in broad daylight on Tuesday morning and the terrific bombing had stunned or neutralized some of the beach defences. But some of them were untouched and the assault troops had to jump from their landing craft in the heavy rising tide and storm the positions with the bayonet through minefields.
These were superb assault troops. Some of them-less than we expected-died on those Normandy sands. But the walls of Fortress Europe were breached.
In two very pleasant ways, D-Day was an incredible anti-climax. We expected the German air force and navy to come out in suicidal onslaughts. After all, the target consisted of thousands and thousands of invasion ships, lying right off the coast of France. We expected the sky to be a splitting inferno of air battle. But nothing happened in the air to speak of-over our beaches at least. Until I went ashore at noon, I didn't see a German aircraft and I never saw a German ship.
Secondly, the thing we feared almost more than anything else was the enemy's coast batteries. But not once did we hear from them. They'd been knocked out by bombing or by the commandos and paratroops.
All day yesterday, our warships offshore were bombarding the enemy, supporting the infantry. But not once did the enemy reply.
In our particular waters, only one ship was lost, struck by a floating mine.
Some are saying now that Hitler's West Wall turned out to be a myth. While not as strong as we expected, it was no myth. Ask the men who had to crack it.
I shall never forget watching our infantry storm those beaches. Theirs is the glory, the power and the glory.
The navy and the air force made it possible, this landing in France. But on the whole, the honours of D-Day go to the assault troops. I have never seen such zest for the attack. They are my most vivid memory, the fights on the beaches and scrambling ashore though the bursting shells.
My next most vivid memory is of the French who welcomed us. Right there on the beaches with tears and roses. With bottles of good wine. With eggs and strawberries. But especially with tears. Their homes were being torn up by fierce battle and some of them were dying. But it was the beginning of the end of their nightmare.
I saw them crown our dead Canadians with roses.
It really does seem like a dream to be back. Less than three days ago, I was listening to the singing of English birds, wondering if I would hear them again.
Now I am listening to them again, in the open air, near one of the English invasion ports. In between those singings, I have heard the birds of France and seen the hedgerows of Normandy, full of roses, seen the heroic Canadian and British assault troops go up the fearful beaches and seen the beginning of the end after these four long, black years.
It really does seem strange that only 48 hours ago I was swimming and wading onto the beach in France in a roaring battle.
When I left the front yesterday, the battle was going well. Both the Canadians and the British had taken almost all their objectives by nightfall on D-Day.
But early yesterday, Rommel was throwing in his armour in fierce counterattacks. Fortunately our advance assault troops had lots of fire support. We got our tanks ashore on D-Day despite the rough seas, as well as our self-propelled and anti-tank guns.
Yesterday, I saw the Canadians, aided by the Air Force, repel two counterattacks south of the landing beaches.
We had expected to do well on that first day. We knew we could crash through the famous West Wall, yet it was surprising that we did so well. The German defenders of the beaches were not Rommel's crack troops, but they had concrete positions to fight from and every inch of the beaches was registered by heavy machine guns and 75s.
(photo courtesy National Archives of Canada / PA-204812)
Our forces gave supporting fire as we came in from the sea in broad daylight on Tuesday morning and the terrific bombing had stunned or neutralized some of the beach defences. But some of them were untouched and the assault troops had to jump from their landing craft in the heavy rising tide and storm the positions with the bayonet through minefields.
These were superb assault troops. Some of them-less than we expected-died on those Normandy sands. But the walls of Fortress Europe were breached.
In two very pleasant ways, D-Day was an incredible anti-climax. We expected the German air force and navy to come out in suicidal onslaughts. After all, the target consisted of thousands and thousands of invasion ships, lying right off the coast of France. We expected the sky to be a splitting inferno of air battle. But nothing happened in the air to speak of-over our beaches at least. Until I went ashore at noon, I didn't see a German aircraft and I never saw a German ship.
Secondly, the thing we feared almost more than anything else was the enemy's coast batteries. But not once did we hear from them. They'd been knocked out by bombing or by the commandos and paratroops.
All day yesterday, our warships offshore were bombarding the enemy, supporting the infantry. But not once did the enemy reply.
In our particular waters, only one ship was lost, struck by a floating mine.
Some are saying now that Hitler's West Wall turned out to be a myth. While not as strong as we expected, it was no myth. Ask the men who had to crack it.
I shall never forget watching our infantry storm those beaches. Theirs is the glory, the power and the glory.
The navy and the air force made it possible, this landing in France. But on the whole, the honours of D-Day go to the assault troops. I have never seen such zest for the attack. They are my most vivid memory, the fights on the beaches and scrambling ashore though the bursting shells.
My next most vivid memory is of the French who welcomed us. Right there on the beaches with tears and roses. With bottles of good wine. With eggs and strawberries. But especially with tears. Their homes were being torn up by fierce battle and some of them were dying. But it was the beginning of the end of their nightmare.
I saw them crown our dead Canadians with roses.