and kept on continuously for three and a half hours.
“7 June: At 0700 weighed anchor, and proceeded out of harbour, with Baddeck (we are Senior Officer), and two tugs towing Courbet one on each bow, speed about three knots. Planes towing gliders again overhead; continuous activity in air all day, planes going to, and returning from France. Day uneventful otherwise; weather fine, but not very warm.... Our ship’s company had been put into two watches (known as defence watches) for dark hours and emergency of any kind. We closed up at our action stations tonight at dusk 2230. At the same time had to reduce speed, as we are ahead of schedule. About midnight some E-boat activity near, but not involving us. We have ships all around us, literally, and one just astern of us got an E-boat in the beam of her searchlight. When she opened fire we could see the fall of shot with the naked eye. Then after a moment of darkness something – presumably the E-boat – burst into flames which were visible to us for nearly an hour. There followed almost continuous explosions from the burning vessel, and we could see a ship standing by her.... On this and subsequent nights there was so little W/T and R/T traffic that we could never tell what went on around us, even within visual range.
“8 June: Shortly after midnight we began hearing the big guns near the beaches, the Old Man estimates our position as about 14 miles off the coast, and some of the reports or explosions made our little ship shake. About 0100 an enemy air attack on the beach ahead of us began, and they were soon dispersed by a very heavy A/A barrage. We saw one plane brought down in flames.... Considerable activity at sea in our vicinity during the dark hours preceding dawn – bursts of Oerlikon tracer and many star shells. At daybreak we were quite close to the shore, but it was hidden by mist. At 0800 the mist was gone, and we got our first look at the coast of France – what was visible through and over the ships of the great invasion fleet. Very little confusion; a great movement of small craft, but all the big ships – the men-of-war, hospital ships, supply ships, etc., seem to have found their places in the pattern and settled down to await orders from NCXF (Naval Commander Expeditionary Force). We cruised up and down the beach area in search of this or some other senior officer: Courbet having gone to her ‘berth’, our job is finished, and we do not know what we are to do next.
... Within the limits of the beach area we can see what appear to be three towns; our officers think the larger one is Ouistreham, and neither it nor the others appear much damaged. We can see tanks, trucks, and other vehicles moving up the slight incline from the beach as they leave the landing craft. Weather fair, but a moderate wind and sea is hindering landing of men and equipment a little. Some of our heavier ships – Rodney, Nelson, and some cruisers, are shelling the country back of the beach-head.... About 1330 a great column of smoke arose from one of the towns.... There are few signs from seaward of German resistance to the landings, except for several wrecked landing craft on the beach. Some distance off shore, but in shallow water, is the wreck of the R.N. ‘Captain’ class frigate Lawford. Sunk while at anchor yesterday, she broke in half amidships; the broken midships section now rests on the bottom, with the bow and stern above water. We learned later that there was little loss of life – and also that the cause of the damage was not known; just a heavy explosion that could have been mine, torpedo, or bomb.... We finally anchored near one of the Control ships which direct traffic; got orders from her to sail with Baddeck for Portsmouth; under way at 1515. Weather is deteriorating. Passed many landing craft and tugs with tows of various types bound for far shore. (This latter was the term for the French coast used in all official communications, and soon came into common usage.) At 2215 we passed the Nab Tower, receiving orders from the signal station there to anchor at Cowes. Anchorage full of merchantmen ready to sail.
“9 June: Weighed anchor at 0900, proceeded to Fleet Oiler Teakwood to top up with fuel oil. Returned to anchorage at Cowes about 1500, on two hours notice for steam – which means that the ship must be in all respects ready to put to sea within two hours after being ordered to do so.
“10 June: Saturday. Usual routine carried out – everything above and below decks cleaned and squared up in morning, ‘Make-and-Mend’ in afternoon. The new ‘revised’ type corvette Louisburg is anchored near us, and we were able to exchange visits with some of her crew. Very nice ship, not much like the older ones.”
Incidentally, Louisburg replaces the first corvette of that name, sunk in the Mediterranean in a torpedo-bomber attack on a convoy; Camrose was in the same group, as was Kitchener, the ship on which Iver Gillen was serving then.
“11 June: Prospect of a quiet Sunday spoiled by receipt of a signal in late afternoon ordering us to proceed out of harbour. Under way with Baddeck by 1140. We are to patrol Channel 56, one of the routes to the far shore, and escort part of the way any tugs with tows, or convoys, that come along. Weather fair – cloudy, with occasional rain. At dusk we picked up two pairs of tugs with ‘Whale’ tows (parts of the prefabricated ports) and stayed with them during the night. All during dark hours displays of starshell and tracer shells visible.
“12 June: About 0430 saw and heard numerous heavy explosions in direction of French coast and some A/A fire in same place; looks like many another air attack. Left our tugs and tows at daybreak. At 0730 came upon two more tugs with a Whale tow, having some difficulty with same. As near as I can describe them, ‘Whales’ were heavy sections of floating roads or ramps, buoyed up by big steel tanks; there were usually four or five sections in a tow, and in this case, the after two tanks had leaked and sunk. The towboat skippers said further towing was impossible, as one tank was already on the bottom. They could not just cut it loose and leave it as it was a menance to navigation, and they had no alternative but to stand by until someone came to assist them. Our Old Man decided to sink the lot by gunfire, after salvaging what could be removed. Sent a small boat away, but it was found that of all the valuable gear stowed on top of the whales (small landing craft, coils of wire cable, miscellaneous Army equipment) most was too heavy to move. The tug captains assured our CO that the bouyant tanks were filled with petrol, so we stood well off before opening fire. The first hit released only air, so we closed in and used all our guns. It took nearly three hours to sink the thing – which could be a tribute to the builders or a reflection on our gunners. Hardly the latter, as many direct hits were scored with little effect. Difficult target to hit, low in the water, rising and falling in the slight sea, and many shots just glanced off the tanks.... During this bit of war effort two R.N. destroyers passed us at high speed, bound for far shore. They asked us by light what we were doing, and on being told, asked us to hold our fire until they were past. (Later found out that one had aboard Winston Churchill, on his way to visit the beach area.) Today forenoon we passed five bodies floating on the surface – two airmen and three seamen. One of the former was sitting bolt upright as if in a chair, held so by his lifejacket, head and shoulders out of the water. An occasional wave now and then washed over him, smoothing back his hair as if with a comb. This gruesome sight seemed to fascinate some of the newer members of the crew, to whom a casualty was something one read about in the papers. It brought home to them rather abruptly the fact that war is more than bands and uniforms, seeing the world and being a hero in the home town. For a few it also emphasized the fact – more than our officers had been able to do – that it might be smart to stay wide awake on watch. Easy now too, to enforce the standing orders regarding wearing or carrying of life-jackets. Some criticism of the Old Man for not stopping to recover, attempt to identify, and properly bury the dead, as we know one other Canadian CO has done. However, our Skipper is wise; aside from the fact that the Germans have been known to attach mines to floating bodies, submarines are becoming active in the Channel, and a ship hove to would be an easy target. Passed much fresh wreckage, and two lifeboats which we took alongside and stripped of equipment. Weather better and getting warmer. In forenoon met tug Growler with Mulberry tow, and escorted her to end of Channel 56. About 1600 we were ordered by signal to return to Portsmouth. Had been about two hours on way when we received another W/T signal to meet and escort two more tugs with Mulberry tows for far shore, speed four knots. Met them about 1830, and were joined by Baddeck and Louisburg. Just after dark starshell began to go up all around us, some much too close for comfort since it illuminated us. We learn by signal that there are
