CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES

In the navy we all knew it was coming. It had to. There was no other way, although to the vast majority of us the hows and the wheres remained a complete mystery.
    The military had of course been training and exercising for many months. Co-operation between the British, the Americans, and the Canadians, as well as the smaller groups of Free-French and other occupied countries, had to be perfect, the timing exact. Many of the troops who were destined to face German firepower in Europe had never seen action before. For the planners it was an immense task.
    And everyone who was to take part could be certain of only one thing. If the invasion failed, there would be no more chances, no Dunkirk this time to prevent the enemy from reversing the attack. If anybody needed reminding of this, he had only to consider the fact that the German army had been fighting us, the Americans, and the Russians on several fronts at once.
    The thing which puzzled me more than anything was how were we going to keep this mammoth operation a secret?
  The enormous build-up of tanks and their measured progress south to the Channel ports and harbours; a fleet of landing-craft the like of which had never before been seen; supply and fuel trucks; anti-aircraft guns; steel for building bridges; floating pontoons to create protection for all the small craft once they had arrived at their destinations - surely some spy would see one of these things and report back?
    We know now that false information was fed to the enemy, and false buildings constructed at places far away from the coast. To add to the deception the navy maintained its regular patrols and convoys. The Royal Air Force flew daily sorties over Europe to watch for unusual troop movements which might indicate that the enemy was aware of our intentions. But still nothing happened.
    We got down to training with the army and their landing-craft. Our main purpose would be to throw an unbreakable barrier across the Channel and protect the crowded vessels from attack by German E-Boats and, as it was suddenly announced, their new midget submarines. It was not hard to picture what would happen to the ponderous, barely manageable landing-craft if either of those weapons was able to get amongst them.
  The enormous build-up of tanks and their measured
    As I said, we thought we knew all about manoeuvres with the army. How wrong we were, and as we learned about loading troops into any available vessel if so demanded, or worked ashore with toughened commando units, we realized, I suppose for

Cromwell tanks and vehicles pass along a French road after the landing. Crusader AA and Stuarts.
Sherman tanks on parade at 'Invasion City'

the first time, what lay ahead.
  The supervision was rigid, probably the hardest thing to accept, and nothing was left to chance. At regular intervals we returned to our base on the east coast. Again, nothing must betray the fact that we were being employed anywhere but on our regular station.
    CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES the posters shouted. We no longer needed reminding.
    Then our training ceased. Most of us had a terrible sense of anti-climax. We were so keyed up for the actual operation, it was like getting a pat on the head and being sent home. The vast array of army units seemed to vanish into their holes, as if the whole thing had been cancelled after all.
    It was difficult to understand and to get back into our other routine. An air of gloom and apprehension seemed to pervade the whole boat. But still we waited.
    You could sense the change without having to be told. Trouble with the shore patrols when the libertymen came to blows in the local pubs, quite often caused by some indiscreet drinker remarking on the Jacks having too much spare time, what about the Second front? It did not help much.
    It was getting dangerous. No man can be expected to fight a fast-moving enemy, possibly in pitch darkness at ranges sometimes less than those at Trafalgar, if his mind is elsewhere. There were only two sorts of sailor in E-Boat Alley, the quick and the dead.
    The weather was mostly bad. Even as June came to the Channel it was grey, rough and misty. More like November than early summer. I remember it well. I had been home on leave to see my parents for a couple of days. My father asked me what we were all doing. I answered vaguely that we might by on some sort of manoeuvres. That did not tell him anything important, but it stopped my mother from worrying too much. Looking back I suppose it was very hard for her with her only two sons away, one at sea the other in the air.
    That was on the Saturday. Not long after returning to the base I knew something was going to happen. I said as much to the Skipper. He just shrugged and remarked, 'About bloody time.'
    We were called unexpectedly to see the Senior Officer, a lieutenant-commander who had once been a solicitor. I cannot remember a word he said, except something about the need for total secrecy.
    Manoeuvres, I had told my father. Bloody hell. It was no longer a rumour, it was not next week, it was tomorrow.

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Copyright © Douglas Reeman