Physical fitness was not overlooked. Once a week, every officer, warrant officer, non—commissioned officer and man was required to indulge in a 6 mile cross country run, and returns had to be made to Brigade H.Q. to that effect.

Guilty of anything other than a minor offence was immediately dispatched from his unit, the justification for this being that if he couldn’t be relied upon to observe the rules in what were peaceful conditions, he wouldn’t be likely to do so in the stress of battle. This might have seemed a "way out" for the faint hearted, but there was never any evidence to that effect the opposite in fact. Discipline was of avery.high order, and serious crime,such as absence without leave was almost non—existent.

The month of May was marked 14 a series of visits and inspections by "Top Brass", including General "Boy" Browning the Commander of Airborne Forces, the Colonel of the Regiment supported by) previous Colonels of the Battalion who had moved on to higher rank in the War Office and elsewhere, and ultimately by H.M. King George together with Queen Elizabeth, Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret. The most impressive visit of all, however, was that by General Montgomery—’as he then was —the Commander in Chief of all the "D" Day landing forces.

It was the usual speech, which we knew, he had made on numerous occasions to other battalians but it suffered in no way from repetition. We were "the cream of the British Army" and there was no doubt that we were going to "hit the Germans for six" right out of France and occupied Europe. However, he warned that there was to be hard fighting ahead but that he had no intention of asking us or any other unit of the invasion force to take on anything, which he was not completely confident we could achieve. The effect was electrifying. After three cheers called for by our Commanding Officer, Hank Carson, Monty departed with his entourage, leaving behind a battalion which was not only well trained and well equipped, but which was also quite confident of’ success under his command.

It was about this time, towards the end of May, that I, as Adjutant of the battalion, received a thick official booklet, marked "OPERATION OVERLORD" and "TOP SECRET". This let out all the administrative detail, which had to be complied with before and for our move to our Concentration Area. There was no indication as to the location of the Areas, or when the move would take place, but all preparations had to be completed by, I think, the 25th of the month. This particular booklet related only to the Air Landing Brigade, but it gave me a glimpse of the enormous administrative detail which had to be worked out covering all the invasion forces then assembling in the South of England. After consultation with the Commanding Officer and the Second in Command it was my job to extract all the details applicable to our battalion which then had to be communicated by Battalion Orders to the Company Commanders and others responsible.

This was a particularly busy time for everybody, but as luck would have it, I suddenly developed a lump on the side of my face which became very inflamed and painful. I decided to pay an unofficial visit to our Medical Officer, Capt."Dai" Rees, to get him to take a look. He prodded my lump around a few times, then extracted a very sharp looking scalpel from his tool kit and told me to lay my head on the table, lump uppermost. This I did. A quick "stab" followed by a squeeze and a piece of plaster, and he pronounced me fit for the invasion! • Several years later, Dai Rees became a highly qualified surgeon, while I still carry the scar of one of his first ‘operations".

All personal possessions not essential for operational purposes had to be packed, labelled and disposed of, either by consignment to one’s home or to a hut specially set aside for the purpose. It was unavoidable that after several years moving. around various locations in England, individuals had accumulatednumerous surplus items of clothing, electric heaters and Primus Stoves, small radios, bicycles, books and anything else which could be used during times of relaxation, which were going to be few and far between during the coming months.

One problem peculiar to an airborne unit is that a number of people such as cooks, clerks and others do not fly on operations, but follow up later by whatever means available, in this instance, by sea. They would bring with them all clothing and equipment which we couldn’t carry with us but which we might need if our "stay" was longer than anticipated;

The importance of health and medical care were not overlooked. All Ranks were reminded again and again the importance of good hygiene and personal cleanliness; never to miss an opportunity for a "shit, shave and shampoo". Repeated instruction was given on the use of the "field dressing" which every man carried, and in the application of tourniquets and splints. The Regimental Aid Post of each battalion was commanded by a qualified medical officer, with trained medical orderlies and stretcher bearers, but their scope for medical attention was limited and the best they could hope to do for casualties was to administer pain filling drugs such as morphine and to keep casualties alive until they could be transported back to an Advance Dressing Station where surgical operations and similar sophisticated treatment was available.

I have no recollection of guidance being given as regards sexual activity in strange places. "Condoms" had always been made available in England at 2 or 3 pence a time, and were in high demand particularly when troops were going off on leave, and to catch a "dose" was a military offence which could be serious for an officer or N.C.O., being looked upon as a "self inflicted wound". Catching a dose of "crabs" was embarrassing perhaps, but not so serious, as it ~ involve any loss of duty time. Maybe it was a mistake to neglect this question, or maybe, as Adjutant, I was left out, but venereal disease became a major problem after the end of the war.

Those last few busy weeks at Bulford were by no means a matter of "all work and no play", which would have made "Tommy" or "Paddy" a very dull boy. Frequent dances were held in the large Bulford Camp gymnasium and veil attended by all ranks including the contingencies of A.T.S. girls in the vicinity, and W.A.A.F.S from the R.A.F.Station at Netheravon. Parties were held in the Officer’s Mess’s of the various battalions and other units, including the R.A.F. at Netheravon, and we were authorised to use army transport to bring girls to these functions from as far afield as Newbury and Hungerford, towns where we had been located and where we still bad many friends. In our Mess at Kiwi Barracks, these parties were always very lively occasions with ample food prepared by the Kitchen staff, plenty of somewhat unconventionable dancing to the Quick steps and Tiger Rag of the Mess gramophone records, - the consumption of considerable quantities of beer and finishing up with a spontaneous and noisy "Sing-song". It might be thought that such parties, at such a time, would be the occasion for "skullduggery" of one sort or another. This was not the case. It was always made clear that transport for the ladies’ homeward journeys would leave at midnight, and leave it did, and I have no recollection of seeing a girl the worse for drink, although I cannot say the same for some of my fellow officers, and maybe they couldn’t say the same about me!.

Following our move to Bulford, some married Officers and Other Ranks had, from time to time, arranged for their wives to stay in the vicinity in such towns as Amesbury and Andover, and when it didn’t interfere with their normal duties the men concerned would be given "sleeping out" passes at weekends. As we moved into 1944 and the probable date of the return to Europe approached, this concession was withdrawn, which gave rise to considerable adverse comment by the people concerned on the grounds that wives were less of a security risk than the ladies invited to attend dances and parties in the barracks. However, security wasn’t the problem. Higher Command decided that to have wives in the vicinity when we were preparing to depart on what ums obviously going to be a somewhat hazardous undertaking would give rise to anxieties and tensions which were best avoided. There was, of course, no secrecy about the fact that an invasion of Europe by Allied forces would shortly take place. For weeks, the roads around Bulford and the surrounding area bad been choked with military

traffic heading for the South and South West. All unit signs and emblems had been removed from uniforms and vehicles to reduce the risk of giving away information as to the Allied Order of Battle. 40 years later, one of our officers, Captain Huw Wheldon — later Sir Huw Wheldon, Managing Director of BBC Television — presented a TV programme about the Allied counter— intelligence operation put into effect before "D" Day to keep the German High Command guessing as to "where and when" the invasion would take place. The same question was exercising our minds, but I’m sure that we weren’t as -worried about it as the Germans.

The Transit Camps had been set up close to the airfields from which we would take off, and for the 6th Airlanding Brigade, were at Broadwell, Blakehill Farm and Down Ampney in Oxfordshire. Our battalion was split between Broadwell and Blakehill Farm, with the main body, including Battalion 1-lead Quarters, at Broadwell. The camp at Broadwell was located in a field close to Broadwell RAF Station. The camp consisted of numerous rows of white Bell tents, two or three large whit marquees, and a line of semi—permanent ablution facilities including toilets and showers. At one end was a large hut of solid construction which was kept under constant guard, and we were soon to learn the reason why. It contained a small sca’le model of a stretch of coastline about 20 miles long and stretching about the same distance inland, and including in miniature every detail imaginable. Towns, villages, houses, churches, farms, roads, tracks, rivers and streams, canals, railways, telegraph poles, fields, hedges, tall trees and short trees, and all in their natural colours, exactly as would be seen from the air, which was the way we were going to see it. We were

I’m not exactly sure when our Commanding Officer, Lt.Col. "Hank" Carson received his orders, but shortly after our arrival at the camp all the officers were called to a meeting around the model in the briefing hut and were given a broad outline of the objectives set for the Division and how these fitted in to the overall plan for the invasion. At the same time, maps were issued of the assault area and distributed to Company Commanders, but on these maps all actual place names had been replaced by imaginary English names so that the terrain could be studied without disclosing the actual places involved. All these maps had to be kept in the briefing 1u~it, and times were allocated when Company Commanders and their subordinates could make use of the hut, the model and the maps in order to familiarize themselves with the area in which the Division would be operating without, at that time, knowing precisely what their objectives were going to be. Later, we were provided with aerial photographs which, when viewed through a stereoscope, provided an almost uncanny three dimensional view of the areas in which we would be operating, and in such detail that one had

a sense of being on the ground and looking at the fields and hedges, gateways, trees, farm~ buildings and farm animals grazing in the fields from only a few yards away. The only difficulty that I, and I think that others had, was to realize that in a short time all this peace and tranquility would be rudely interrupted by us and that a knowledge of those fields and hedgerows might well become a matter of life or death for ourselves and many others.

Gradually, over the next few days, the broad outline of the total operation was explained and followed by precise orders given as to the objectives of the battalion and each company, platoon and section, until every man knew what was expected of him and his comrades and how this fitted—in to the task assigned to the Division. However, it was not until the day or so before 5th June,— the date originally set for the Invasion~ that the picture was completed, and we were told where all this was going to take place and that the area we were required. to seize and hold was the high ground to the east of the River 0rm in Normandy. I’m quite sure that until that time, very few, if any of us had ever heard of the River Orne or of a small village called Longueval with which we were going to become very familiar. During our "briefing", it was recognised that plans drawn up at Broadwell Transit Camp, and indeed at every other Transit Camp, might have to be changed or modified if the airborne landings didn’t go according to plan. However, I don’t recollect any reference as to what might happen if the operation "failed" for any reason. We simply accepted that it couldn’t fail, so there was no point in contemplating that possibility. If the possibility did cross anyone’s mind, as I’m sure it did, mine included, it was quickly dismissed with the consoling recognition that we wouldn’t be around to worry about it.

It could be argued that the very strict level of security enforced at the Transit Camps, including the with—holding of such relevant information as the whereabouts of the airborne landings until the last possible day, reflected adversely on the trustworthiness of the occupants of those camps, including ourselves. To some degree, no doubt, this was so, but it has to be borne in mind that hundreds of thousands of troops and other service personnel were being briefed at that time, and that leakages of information due to ignorance or indiscipline or even treachery could have disastrous consequences. The stakes were very high; not only the lives of many thousands of service personnel,

At the time, I was sitting in the Briefing Hut attending to some Battalion Headquarter business, when I heard a loud thump somewhere in the vicinity. I got up and walked to the door and looking out saw a large cloud of black smoke rising above one of the tents about 50 yards from where I was standing. Obviously there had been some form of explosion, so I called out to Corporal Hooper who was in the hut with me no~ to leave the hut unattended, and hurried across to the lines of tents from where the smoke was still rising. As I approached I heard the Regimental Sergeant Major, RSL Griffiths, shouting, "keep clear", "keep clear", and then saw a number of bodies lying near a tent which was badly torn and smoking in several places. Two of the recumbent bodies were obviously badly

From statements made by witnesses, there was little doubt as to the cause of the accident. Theo Seale together with Sergeant Dwyer and several other men of the platoon had been priming their grenades, including what were known as "75" anti—tank grenades. These were metal box—like weapons about the size of a brick, which were primed by sliding a detonator into an aperture on one side so that when pressure was applied, the detonator fired and exploded the grenade. Sergeant Dwyer had been squatting on his haunches at the time. After priming a grenade, he had pushed it behind himself, and reached for another. As he did so, he overbalanced and sat on the first grenade causing it to explode, with fatal results for himself and his platoon commander.

The morning of the 5th June was bright and sunny, and it was with considerable relief that we heard that the operation was definitely "On" for the following day. Whilst a delay of 24 hours was acceptable, all ranks were undoubtedly anxious to "get going", and any further delay could have had an adverse effect on morale. By this time, all Jeeps, trailers and trolleys had been packed; weapons and ammunition checked and rechecked; "Compo" rations and "Escape" packets issued; maps marked up with the latest information and an extra packet of cigarettes stowed away wherever space could be found. The time passed very quickly, and in the evening a number of us were transported to the nearby Broadwell airfield to give our friends in

After we had seen the last ‘plane roar down the runway we returned to the camp in a somewhat subdued mood. This was "it". The operation we had been training for and waiting for was now underway. In a little over an hour, the "coup de main" glider parties would be swooping silently down to seize the vital bridges over the river and the canal, while thousands of parachutists would be dropping into the peaceful Normandy countryside determined to capture and hold the objectives alloted to them. Would the landings be successful — at the right place and at the right time? We were well aware of the hazards of such an enormous night—time operation. Would the all—important element of surprise be achieved, or would the Germans be waiting? What was in store for us the following afternoon?. Our thoughts were also with the thousands of assault troops who would be storming up the Normandy beaches before sunrise the following morning and of the American Airborne landings at the Western end of the front.

The morning of the 6th June was, again, bright and sunny. And began with a voluntary non—denominational service conducted by our Padre, The Rev. NcM.Taylor and attended by every officer and man in the battalion. There was no doubt that the hymn singing and the responses to the prayers he said were much more fervent than on a normal Sunday service. During the morning the few radios available

After an early midday meal, the glider loading parties left for the airfield with our Jeeps, trailers and trolleys. These were the people specially trained in the technique for loading and securing vehicles and heavy equipment in the gliders. Flights and landings could be "bumpy" and every precaution had to be taken against the risk of vehicles breaking loose. The rest of the battalion sat around in their shirt sleeves, smoking, chatting, playing cards and drinking the ample supplies of tea made available from the cook—house; jackets,’ smocks, steel helmet$ — the peculiar inverted "pot" shape designed for airborne troops and covered with strips of hessian camouflage — equipment and personal weapons laid out ready to be "struggled into" as soon as the time came to move. Each man also had a small camouflage net which was worn as a cravat or scarf. Our maroon airborne berets were tucked away in our haversacks for use when circumstances permitted. In the early evening, I think about 5 pm; a column of Troop Carrying Vehicles arrived to convey the rest of the battalion from the Transit Camp to the airfield on the second stage of our journey to Normandy.

All the gliders, about 50 Horsas, each with its distinguishing black and white stripes around wings and fuselage, were drawn up in two tightly packed lines at the extremity of the main runway, looking to, me like a gigantic fishbone from which all the flesh had been removed. The tow ropes attached to the nose of each glider were laid out in perfect line in the centre of the runway. The procedure was for the tug aircraft to approach the gliders along the approach runways on either side of the main runway, then, in turn from left and right, to swing in onto the main runway, the next tow rope would be quickly attached to the tail of the tug aircraft, a signal given and away it would go, with the next tug swinging into position before its predecessor was 50 yards down the runway. It was important for the build-up and maintenance of tight formations in the air that the "combinations" of tug aircraft and glider be got away in the shortest possible time, and the RA-F were to be congratulated on the skill with which this was achieved.

In a short time, all the gliders were reported fully loaded and ready for take—off, after which we stood around drinking

more tea kindly provided by the ladies of the local Women’s Volunteer Service and other similar organisations who always seemed to be present when cups of tea were most welcome. Much use was made of the temporary latrines thoughtfully provided by the RAF until the order was given to emplane, and everyone climbed aboard his allotted glider. Each man wore a sort of make—shift "Mae—West", always provided when a flight was to take place over the sea. This looked like the rubber inner tube of a motor cycle tyre with a few straps attached and was worn around the chest with instructions to blow hard into the valve to inflate the tube if a forced landing in water appeared imminent. To what extent these would have helped a fully laden man to stay afloat, I don’t know.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, but with a fair amount of scattered cloud. I don’t knew the route we took from Broadwell, but after about 10 or 13 minutes flying we linked up with other formations which had left from Blakehill Farm and Down Ampney until there were tugs and gliders ahead of us, to the right and left of us and, presumably, behind us, which must have been a most impressive sight from the ground. I have no personal recollections of fear or apprehension, but rather of excitement and exhiLaration, and from time to time had to convince myself that within the hour we would be landing in enemy—held country. My fellow passengers seemed equally unconcerned with the momentous events taking place

It was then that we turned in towards the coast and in a few minutes I had no difficulty in recognising the mouth of the River Orne and the nearby Canal, a sight with which I had become familiar through the model back in Broadwell. We crossed the coast and flew along the line of the River, clearly visible to our left, and I recall being surprised and relieved that there was no sign of enemy anti—aircraft fire or other opposition to our progress. As I turned to remove my "Mae—West", the Pilot called out "five minute to go". I relayed the message to the others in the rear ~f the glider, and we prepared ourselves for landing, opening the sliding door of

the glider to facilitate quick exit, buckling up our equipment and helmets and doing up our seat belts. "Casting off" called the Pilot, and I heard the "clonk" as he pulled the tow rope release lever, and felt the nose go down as we began our glide into the Landing Zone. Leaning forward, I suddenly saw streaks of light flashing past the nose of the glider and I realized that this was ack—ack fire from the ground. We took up our landing positions, with arms around one another’s necks to help cushion any impact, and waited — with a prayer for a safe landing. Suddenly, the familiar crunch and rumble as the landing gear touched the ground. On and on we seemed to go as the pilot fought to steer the glider away from the line required for following gliders and then we were still. "Under fire" shouted the pilot, and we all released our seatbelts and dived for the door, jumping the four or five feet to the ground and then taking up the defensive positions previously rehearsed so often. Looking around I was relieved to see groups of men around nearby gliders unloading their equipment, and realised that we were not under any immediate threat, so shouted to my men to start unloading. We had arrived, and it was interesting later to hear that of the 145 gliders which took off from England that 6th June evening, all landed safely on the correct landing zones. One glider was hit by mortar fire after landing and was burned out.

R.E .H . Sheridan.
6th Dec.’85 formerly Capt. & AdJ. 1st R.U.R.