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D Day


Addie

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Bananaman: If your grandad was in North Africa with the 8th Army he may have been part of Operation Crusader, one of the major battles to relieve Tobruk, in November-December 1941. Reading about that really brings home to you just how outclassed the British were in tank warfare - the main assault weapon in the desert. Although it was classed a success for the Allies, their tanks were hopelessly inadequate and consequently massacred by the German 88's artillery. It was a duck shoot.

 

Throughout the war we never really developed a decent battle tank; not until the introduction of the Centurion in 1945 - after the war had ended. Ditto the Landrover. The whole thing was typically British in that it was arguably the ordinary Tommy and servicemen who bailed out the country despite poor leadership and planning. We owe a lot to people like your grandad.

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My Dad was there also.. He only told the funny stories like the man who went crackers when an apple fell on his head when they were hiding in an orchard and the man fired his Bren gun. Or the officer who put on a German helmet to test the men! (Nearly got shot) or the fencing posts they shot at thinking they were Germans...

 

My Dad kept a small diary and took photos. I asked a photo copying shop in Douglas to make copies and the diary and pics went missing in the shop about 2006..No one seemed bothered about this.

 

I was not going to take this as "Oh, dear". The photo copying shop offered no compensation. So I borrowed a set of Halsbury's Laws of England from Clerk of Tynwald (Where Manx law is silent English law is most persuasive!) and launched a case in IOM High Court and as John Wright says about me a little knowledge is a dangerous thing but I won an out of court settlement of £1,500..Later on a local buyer of militaria valued the items at £5???

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Great respect to all those guys knowing they were going on a mission with a high likelihood they wouldn't be returning been a while since I have seen saving private Ryan but is the opening scene of that D-Day?

 

Yep, Omaha beach.

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I never knew very much about the war, despite it being recent history when I was born. We lived in the UK at the timewith my father working in a major shipbuilding yard (a major target). I remember our house surrounded by bomb sites which we'd play on as dirt tracks on our bikes. We never even noticed the reference to bombs! When the bombing got too much, my father asked my Manx grandparents to send for my mother and my two siblings. She returned to the island only to return back almost immediately to be with my father. It's where she belonged she said. The damage to the area we lived in was unremarked upon as we just grew up with it.

 

Our family lost one much loved member in 1944, my uncle. I never knew him of course but he was only 21 and in the Royal navy. His ship was sunk in a storm and he drowned. He's buried in Ryes Cemetary in France near Arromanche. Another life, tragically not lived.

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No stories from my grandparents. One grandad had a farm, therefore didn't go to war. The other was at Bletchley Park cracking the enigma code. Never mentioned it, top secret and all that.

 

So you had a gay grandad? I hope he was treated for it.

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One Granddad was in the REME and landed in a glider to help secure the bridges.

 

He was killed in 1945. I have his medals.

 

The other was involved in war work and had been bombed out as the factory where he worked was targeted.

 

It is hard to imagine what total war must have been like.

 

We will remember them.

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Yes, I care, a lot. 70 years ago tonight, my Ol' man set out from Portsmouth in a flotilla of Motor Torpedo Boats to guard the ships and landing-craft from attack by German E-boats, in the English Channel and off the coast of Normandy. He and the various flotillas had spent the previous weeks skirting the coasts of France and Normandy on intelligence operations. This sounds all very dashing and probably was but it actually entailed drawing German shore-battery fire onto the boats to log the calibres, range, accuracy and position of the guns and what the landing forces might expect in the way of defensive tactics. Fortunately, it was found that the Germans had great difficulty in dropping rounds on small boats speeding in excess of 40 knots. The inclement weather at the time scored more damage than any munitions thrown their way but there were still a few close, if lucky escapes.

 

My Ma was in the 'Wrens' stationed at HMS Valkyre at the Villiers. Up to june 5th 1944, many ships had gathered in Douglas Bay. So many that it didn't seem possible there were so many in the whole of the Royal Navy. Everyone remarked on the proliferation of vessels. She was staying with her aunt at Rosemount and in the mornings, would walk down Crellin's Hill and along the prom to the Villiers station. On the morning of june 5th, she recalled getting to Greensills Corner and was astonished that there were hardly any vessels remaining. They had slipped quietly away in the night. Everyone knew that something big was coming off and there was a hush of expectancy that day.

 

The Ol' man never really talked about his experiences and Ma would admonish me if I questioned him, Such was their way. He did recount one episode which brought home to me his personal horror. One afternoon, the flotilla was off Dover carrying-out Depth-Charge practice (this brought to the surface copious amounts of fish, usually taken straight to the officers mess!) when suddenly the alarm sounded and everyone ordered to battle-stations. Within a couple of minutes 5 'Stukas' were screaming down on them and the sea around them was whipped up into a froth from the cannon-fire from the planes. As he was sparks/radio officer, it was his job to send and recieve information so he and his mate, a Canadian of whom the Ol' man was fond, made for the ladder that took them below. The Ol' man was first at the ladder, closely followed by his mate. At this moment, one of the Stukas had unloaded a 'stick' of bombs at his boat. They were pretty well-trained those pilots and had a good degree of accuracy. So while the Ol' man had one foot on the ladder he saw this stick leave the underside of the plane and the first splashes as the bombs hit the water, port side of the boat. He said he thought his time was up because each bomb was getting closer and closer to the target- him! He was half-way down the ladder when suddenly there was an almighty crash. One bomb had hit the side of the boat and carried on through it, without exploding! The shock-wave made the Ol' man lose his grip and he went down the ladder, literally and his chin- bang, bang, bang on every metal rung. It happened in almost slow-motion, according to him and he felt every smash on the way down, chipping teeth in the process, till he hit the deck below. Next thing he knew was the weight of his mates body landing on top of him. It fairly knocked the wind out of him. He said he came around in a micro-second and his first thought was to check on his mate. He said he jumped-up and immediately smashed his head open on a bulk-head but his concern for his mate kind of numbed any feeling. It was only after dragging his mate by the feet toward the radio-room that he realised his mucker was headless.

 

I'd badgered him to tell me about his war experiences and when he recounted this tale it was obvious to me, even at my young age then, that the tears in his eyes and the croak in his voice, that this was the reason she'd told me not to ask. And I never did, ever, again.

 

In April 1945, his flotilla took the voluntary surrender of a German e-boat squadron and he did say how relieved the German sailors were to've surrendered in one piece.

 

He was my hero, my Ol' man.

 

Ha! Eyes waterfalling....

you must be a very proud man.

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Stunning images from the Huffington Post showing then/now images of D-Day sites

 

http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/2014/06/06/d-day-landing-sites-pictures_n_5458026.html?1402052492

 

slide_352674_3823128_free.jpg

The former Juno Beach D-Day landing zone, where Canadian forces once came ashore, in Saint-Aubin-sur-Mer, France. Once a scene of death and destruction, now a tourist's paradise.

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