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Early in the morning on this important day, I waited with many other soldiers on Falmer Station to board the Southern Railway train with doors wide open, knowing at last we were on our way!!! I was about a 20 year old lad…loaded with gas mask, big pack, blanket and groundsheet roll…plus very important, my water bottle. I also carried a rifle and the office administration box. As I stood there, I thought of all the training I had had. Infantry training in Bodmin for six weeks and supplies training in Buller Barracks, Aldershot, and the many courses I had been on and this was …IT…I was very fit, but not much of a soldier or keen on playing soldiers. It was a great shock coming from college into the army…I thought everybody would be like me…but..this was not so. We, the troops, now emerged from the trees after many weeks of boredom shut out of the world, no communication…no one to leave or go out of camp…virtually prisoners. We reached Portsmouth Harbour station and boarded a paddle steamer, Merstone, with tall thin funnel…I glanced over to Gosport, my home town, and wondered whether I would see it again…The sea was calm and the sky overcast as we transferred to a large ship, The Maid of Orleans, in the middle of the Solent. Night was falling as I found a small space to rest my body, a seat in the scuppers. We moved in the middle of the night…and thought we had arrived, especially our cook Holbrook, till someone reminded him, poorchap, that he didn’t recognise his own island, the Isle of Wight….
The day was sunny and some of the men did some swimming by the side of the boat. We were surrounded by many ships and set sail that evening for France. Next morning we transferred to a landing craft which then took us near the shore. The highboards of the craft opened, and there in front of us was the beach and typical French house, plus debris of war…As we disembarked in very deep water with rifles held high, our captain was showered with white foam from a fire extinguisher accidentally knocked as we went into the deep water. I, being taller and near him, managed to hold on to him until we reached the shore. We had arrived at Courseulles, code word JUNO, Friday 24th, 5pm…marched three miles to a field with orchard. Whilst we were settling into our new positions, the noise of battle was terribly loud, with aeroplanes in the night sky, attacking Caen away over to our left. Gradually the noise of gun fir, explosions, bombs, etc died down leaving a beautiful peace and calm…the moon glowed softly on the scene…the men began to settle for the night, sleeping on the ground…I was on guard for the first time on foreign soil. I had a wonderful gothic church for company in a peaceful moonlight setting with railings, statues, Disney like turrets, tall tombstones, a quiet scene, so tranquil… As I stood there under the orchard for company, and a supposed sniper in the tower of the church…it was silent. Quite awesome…nothing stirred, the grass whispered, swaying to and fro.
Then…a loud plonk…should I shout out “Qui va la?”…no you silly idiot…he’s German…getting into panic….then I was about to roar out, in my nicest English of course…to my surprise, something brushed my shoulder on its way down…I saw. It was an apple…..Phew!…What a relief!!

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