“Who was involved in policing the troops in the town?”
“The armed forces provided their own military police to control the traffic and the military traffic throughout the town. Another route was through the town and down South Street to Beach Street where the slipway, that’s the floating bridge, was used as an embarkation pier. And Hardway, where there had been special provision made for a strengthened slipway from Priory Road down to the northern part of the Harbour for the third embarkation point.
“Can you remember when you first realised that D-Day was close, there was bombing very soon before the invasion, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, but we knew before that, that the invasion was close. The knowledge had been building up because we knew that the beaches at Stokes Bay and at Lee on Solent were being used for some construction that everyone was quite sure had something to do with the war. The two beaches were closed to the general public and, for instance, we were only allowed by courtesy to come to our own home in Village Road here. We couldn’t go any further down except with a special permit for service purposes. But it was very clear that invasion was in the minds of the armed forces. The preparations being made to strengthen the roads, for instance, were going on for several months.
“One of the routes was down Beach Street and just two or three days, I think before the invasion, there was a heavy raid in which several bombs were dropped on South Street and South Street was blocked in several places which of course endangered the use of one of the embarkation points. The morning after, a conference assembled for discussion between the military and civil authorities as to what should be done to get the road clear. Really the military representatives said, ‘Now, what help will you need to get this road clear?’
“After discussion, the matter was left that the military would bring in their heavy equipment to help clear the roads, because whatever we had was certainly inadequate for the immediate job. We could have done it in a week, but not in days. Within 24 hours, I think, they had cleared the whole of the rubble and restored the freeway through Sand Street to get down to that embarkation beach.”
“Do you remember the point when you knew that the invasion had actually started?”
“Well, we knew it two or three days before the original D-Day, because we were invaded by hordes of vehicles and men on their way to the embarkation beaches. They moved into Gosport and down the prescribed routes of the strengthened roadways right the way to the beach. The foremost vehicles, with their men, moved through right to Stokes Bay, ready to move off immediately the time was ripe, and other groups of vehicles formed up right there. We had strengthened points right through the town so there could be a constant flow and when the thing started, as one group of vehicles moved on to the launchers, everything else moved up one point. So they moved on to keep the flow of vehicles on to the boats as quickly as they could be moved away.”
“What was the atmosphere like in the town?”
“It was very tense. Everyone knew what was afoot, but remained remarkably calm. I don’t remember seeing anyone panic-stricken by it all. One of the amazing things was the way in which the local populace helped the men who were on the way. They brought them out meals … in some cases I think they actually asked them into the house for meals, whilst the vehicles and crews were waiting outside their houses. Some of them even took a chance of letting them have a bath before they embarked. And there was a great friendship and many of those friendships were maintained a long time after the war. Folk who had been helped got in touch and friendships resulted…” (Mr Cyril Lumb, Gosport Town Hall employee, from Gosport D-Day tapes, courtesy of Gosport Museum.)
Practising for D-Day: one of the many rehearsals for “the real thing”
Operation Fabius
Operation Fabius was a final rehearsal for D-Day by Force G, the British 50th Northumbrian Division, which subsequently landed on Gold Beach on D-Day. The force landed at South Hayling beach, opposite the Royal Hotel, on 4 May 1944.
Assault troops who took part were from the 2nd Wales Borderers, 2nd Battalion Gloucesters, 2nd Battalion Essex, 6th, 8th and 9th Durham Light Infantry, 2nd Battalion Devonshires, 1st Battalion Hampshires, 1st Battalion Dorsetshires, 5th Battalion East Yorkshires, 6th and 7th Green Howards, 1st Nottinghamshire Yeomanry, 4/7th Dragoon Guards. It is believed that Churchill and Eisenhower watched from the top of the Royal Hotel, Hayling Island. Of course, one positive aspect of the war years for many people in Hampshire, especially women, was the way in which it opened up opportunities to them which would have been undreamed of in pre-war England. Despite the privations and dangers they often faced, nevertheless it remains a fact that many women saw much more of the world than they ever would have under different circumstances. One such was Mrs Barrie Knight.
Mrs Barrie Knight (née Peggy White) was posted to Ceylon, from where she wrote to her mother in England, who kept her correspondence. With permission, part of a letter from 1945 is reproduced here. The prisoners of war in Burma and Japan were beginning to reach Ceylon on the way home in a variety of warships and merchant ships. Ships stopped in Burma to refuel, and for ex-prisoners this was an opportunity to do some shopping and generally to experience an unaccustomed way of life. Many of them were in a very poor state of health both physically and mentally and also many had not been in touch with their wives or families.
“So we used to … We took them out for lunch and took them out shopping. We couldn’t believe how dreadful they looked. They thought it was wonderful to see all the people. They wanted to buy lipsticks and things to take home. It was all … you know, very moving. They were dreadfully thin. And they were just in rags and you had to be very careful as to what you gave them to eat if they came to the mess, because they weren’t used to much food.
“But the main thing was them wanting to shop all the time. I expect they would be given money on the ship. But we had the officers’ club, we had … the NAAFI, they put on a wonderful show, dance, and we were terribly hot, in September, and we were in uniform and they provided chocolates and cigarettes, and a lovely lunch. And they were so grateful, just pathetic, and they looked like very old men; they can’t have been more than in their forties. They all wanted to talk about the camp, although they also asked thousands of questions. They had kept up with the news remarkably well. Four years is a long time and so some of the things they asked us about seemed very odd.
“They were terribly hopeful and talked as though everything would be just as they left it at home. They said their last letters were two years old. It worried us that they seemed to think that their wives and girlfriends would be just as they had been in October 1943. I only hope they were able to find them. One man didn’t know where his wife was: three years ago she was in South Africa. He had hoped to find a cable at the bank but there was nothing for him. He was sure he would find a letter waiting for him when he got back. One wanted to know how to buy a lipstick. He said he had almost forgotten the taste of it, but thought it wouldn’t be long before he found out.
“This shopping: we walked miles and bought material for their fiancées, wives, sisters, mothers and babies, sent cables, changed money, looked for mail, bought fountain pens, had lunch and did some shopping. Then we saw them to the jetty. I then had to go to the office and do my day’s work. The officer’s club had an orchestra playing the whole time. After lunch, in the height of the heat, I danced round and round the floor on my flat feet for about half-an-hour. The men were thrilled. They wanted to make sure they knew how to dance before they got back to their beloveds.