THIS IS FINDON VILLAGE - One Way Trip to Normandy

One way trip to Normandy

By Terry Walls, Canberra, Australia

Everyone who was alive in England (or elsewhere in fact) at the time of the D-Day landings on 6 June 1944 has lingering memories of that fateful day.

My mother, who’s husband – my dad – was on a Motor Torpedo Boat in the Mediterranean, told me of the visit of Montgomery to Hove to address (some of) the troops. She also told me that everyone new that Operation Overlord had started when they all heard the constant drone of aircraft from the early hours of the morning and throughout the next day. She also mentioned to me that all of a sudden the huge number of vehicles that were parked along every road and byways were gone – just gone.

My father and his three brothers were all in the Royal Navy. My father, Ken Walls, had joined in 1937 and spent his first two years on HMS Birmingham in China. His brothers Alf and Ray had joined the navy earlier in 1931 and 1933. The youngest, William Walls who was born in September 1923 managed to talk his way into the RN by lying about his age in 1940. He spent a large part of the war in home waters on armed trawlers and coastal patrol vessels. He was always known as ‘Tom’ in the navy after the famous actor.

In 1944 he was a Leading Seaman and was told, at quite short notice I believe, that he was required to ‘drive’ a Landing Craft Tank to Normandy. As he told me the story last year, he had just completed some gunnery training and was awaiting a posting to a ‘real ship’ when he was assigned to the 4/7 Dragoon Guards and the LCT was to take a D-D tank and a recovery vehicle across to Gold Beach in early June. As all know the weather was a bit unpredictable and the landings which were to take place on 4 June were put off until 6 June.

In this short interval he got to meet the tank commander, a chap named ‘Goldsmith’ he said and his sergeant – a good guy called Whittle. Well I now know because of my research that ‘Goldsmith’ was in fact (later) Major-General Sir James D'Avigdor-Goldsmid Bt. CB, OBE, MC. He was at that time either a major or a Lt Col. He and ‘Skin’ Whittle, a fitter, were having a few drinks on the night before the crossing and Goldsmid, obviously being quite aware of the dangers of a Jewish combatant in Europe, said to Bill,

‘Walls – just remember one thing; if we get caught, my name is Smith – got it – Smith.’

They of course departed along with many thousands of others for Gold on 5 June arriving in quite choppy seas as all the action started about 0730. Because of the chop, it was decided that the D-D tanks would not swim ashore but be delivered to the beach. As Bill’s LCT also had a recovery vehicle, they had no choice. It required a beach landing.

The LCT was manned by a Sub-Lt as commander, Bill as the helmsman and a young deck hand rating. On arrival there was fire raking the beach and the commander decided to have Bill steer the LCT to an area which was not attracting as much attention. My understanding is that Bill questioned the wisdom of this is rather strong language given that part of the beach had not been cleared. He was given short shrift and the LCT ground ashore.

The rating was ordered to lower the front doors so that Goldsmid and his troop could get the tank and vehicle off. The door crashed down right on top of a mine and the explosion did great damage to the door and killed the rating instantly. Bill tells me he shouted at the commander along the lines of —

‘You stupid bastard – you have killed him.’

He was immediately told he was on report and that he would be court martialled. The last words that Goldsmid said to him was —

‘Don’t worry coxswain, I will support you at your court marshal – now I must get out of here.’

He then got aboard his tank and drove it through the buckled doors and up onto the beach.

Bill never saw him again but told me he always wondered how his war went. I now know that he had a very distinguished army career winning an MC. He died in 1958.

Bill left the LCT – it was certainly a one way trip to Normandy for this crew. He ran along the beach until he came to the beach commander, a naval officer, who seemed to be directing landing craft and other sea-born traffic. He asked whether he wanted a lift home! He didn’t need to be asked twice and Bill was safely back in England later that day.

When he returned to barracks he had to have an x-ray which was standard practice because TB was rife. It was as a result of this check that he discovered that he had been hit by a piece of shrapnel whilst on the beach which had been lodged between a rib near his heart. When he was on the beach he knew he was bleeding but assumed he had taken a glancing blow. Neither he nor the doctors considered the wound serious at the time.

It wasn’t until some three months later that he was called back and advised that they needed to operate. It was a difficult operation because the small piece of shrapnel was close to the heart and major arteries. They operated on Boxing Day 1944 and he lost a lot of blood and they needed to cut through his collar bone.

He had a rather uneventful next few months recovering whilst the Dragoon Guards had a tough and gallant war fighting their way into Germany. Although he only spent a couple of days with them, they have made a lasting impact.