D-DAY
Jack, October 1943, Sicily
by Jack Edward
Frederick Lauder (written in 1945 and referenced in D-Day Spearhead Brigade by Christopher Jary)
It was with a feeling of considerable relief that we finally embussed and moved slowly in a long sinuous convoy from the heavily guarded concentration areas down to Southampton docks. For three months we had been cooped up in various transit camps, which had gradually become more like concentration camps, as the day for the invasion of Europe approached. We had been surrounded with barbed wire, armed guards had patrolled the perimeter of the camps, scores of military and Field Security Police had checked and rechecked our passes each time we moved from one part of the camp to another: in fact, the whole atmosphere was one of the utmost secrecy and security. Moreover, our morale was not heightened by the fact that many of the camps were pitched right in the forests, which were admittedly excellent for camouflage, but were very dark, gloomy and foreboding; however hot the sun, it often did not penetrate through the trees to the tents. In many ways it was a depressing time, and we were all thankful that at last the period of waiting was over.
“ they sensed that this was “it”, that at last the great day, for which Europe had waited so long, had come. We had not been told that this time we were actually embarking for the invasion, but we knew; our kit had again been checked, deficiencies made up, briefing completed down to the last detail, French currency issued and security measures redoubled. The people of Southampton knew too: they had often seen us on invasion exercises winding in a long, oddly assorted trail from the parks in the city, where we debussed, to the docks; but somehow this time they sensed that this was “it”, that at last the great day, for which Europe had waited so long, had come. There was no great excitement, no cheering; people stood about in small knots, staring curiously; occasionally someone would call out “Good luck lads” or “Give ‘em one for me”; at one point an old lady stepped forward and said “Bless you lad; here, take this”, and thrust a bottle of beer into a man’s hand. And so we slowly made our way to the docks and up the gangplank onto the ship that was to take us to France.