My dear Tom,

12th June 1944

Now that the strict censorship over the Invasion has relaxed somewhat, I am able to tell you a thing or two about my modest share in it.

For some time, I have known that we were to have a prominent role, hence my anxiety to have my affairs in order!

That role turned out to be nothing less than the great honour of being the very first warship to close the Normandy beaches at H Hour on D Day. I had that information shortly before we set out last Monday; when the Admiral hoisted “Good luck, drive on”, we knew the time had come.

“Drive on” was the slogan of the Second Front operation. That night, long after the slower craft had left harbour, we weighed and set course for Normandy. Everyone was happy that at last D Day had come and that all these months of preparation and waiting were over.

Still, as we watched the friendly shores of England fading away, we all had our own thoughts… I felt like an explorer going out into the unknown. We knew where we were going, certainly, but we didn’t know what we would meet- and believe me, nowadays there are plenty of things to be met, all of them very uncomfortable!

Well, the long night passed and when dawn broke, cold and raw, with high seas running, we could see the coast of France. By this time, we had overtaken the landing craft. The destroyers assembled for the run-in, Eglinton taking the lead, as arranged.

The minesweepers, which had been steadily preceding us, now altered course away, leaving the way clear for the destroyers to thrust on.

We rapidly closed the beach, then raced along the coast to our allotted position where we were to bombard certain selected targets, a row of houses where a gun battery was believed to be hidden.

If you picture the Queen Alexandra crossing the Millport Bay from point to point, you will get a fairly accurate idea of our dash. We expected to have to run the gauntlet of the shore batteries and at that range I didn’t give much for our chances.

But whether the guns had been knocked out by aerial bombing or whether there were none there, I can’t say. In any case, as soon as we sighted our target, we opened up and poured several hundred shells into these blinking houses (that lasted an hour or two), rapidly reducing them to ruins.

But before we had fired many rounds, all hell was poppin’. The other destroyers found their targets and blazed away, while the battle wagons whipped away 15-inch shells at targets further inland. At the same time, RAF planes cracked their bombs down on the shore defences and the rocket-carrying sea-craft let off their death-dealing loads on to the beaches- the most appalling and demoralising weapon ever devised!

Shells from enemy guns inland landed on the beach and in the sea and, occasionally, German planes tried to bomb our troops, only to be chased away by Spits. We let go a few rounds at them too.

By this time, many buildings were ablaze and furious close-range cross fire was going on as our landing craft touched down and the Pongos dashed up the shore to engage the enemy. I watched all this through my binoculars- a marvellous grandstand view!

Then alongside, came a couple of small landing craft, laden with wounded, some serious. We hoisted them inboard and carried them on stretchers to the sick bay and the wardroom where the doc had established a casualty station. He worked on the patients unceasingly all day and far into the night and, next morning, we landed them in England, the very first casualties to come back, I think.

Through my glasses, I watched the battle raging all day as the troops struggled through booby traps and tried to catch the snipers. Gradually, they established themselves, tanks and lorries came ashore and pushed inland.

Then in the evening came the most wonderful sight of all- the arrival of hundreds of gliders, packed with brave and gallant men. Boldly, they went in to land, through a curtain of flak and tracer. Then followed their stores and gear by multi coloured parachutes. It was all vividly clear in the bright evening sky.

As darkness fell, we left the French coast and headed for home. Just after passing a convoy it was attacked by planes. What a reception they got. Thousands of tracers made weird patterns in the sky and I saw three raiders crash in flames.

Then everything quietened and we pulled our duffel coat hoods closer round our ears and settled down by the guns for the night.

That briefly is the story of D Day as I saw it, although of course, there are other aspects that I am not allowed to discuss. I trust you were interested. You can understand now why I left my typewriter on shore!

Naturally I am very happy to have played a part in the big show. I should have mentioned that the houses we bombarded actually were the dens of snipers, many of whom must have died before they could fire a shot at our troops. We secured that section of the beach.

It was truly a wonderful experience. Everybody was splendid- it showed the spirit of the Navy, that traditional determination against which our enemies must surely fail.

Well, so long for now. I’ll have more interesting experiences to tell, if I am permitted. Warm regards to all

Sidney