It was on the morning of June 5^th – after a false start the previous day – that the main body of the Battalion left its sub-marshalling area, and after experiencing every possible aspect of officialdom in the short journey to the embarkation hard, finally found itself aboard L.C.I.s alongside Southsea pier. Landing craft of every type filled the Solent, making an impressive sight. We of Battalion Headquarters felt that our own L.C.I., painted newly white, with the Divisional sign on either side of the bridge, and the Regimental crest on the wall of the wardroom, was a pretty ship in which to embark on this crusade. Normally soldiers feel badly out of place aboard ship, but these happy touches gave us a feeling of proprietorship and pride. Whoever sailed in her in the following days as she plied unceasingly to and from the shores of Normandy, she remains for ever "our" ship. And we imagine wherever she is now she still carries proudly the sign of the Iron Division.

We lay at anchor for some time. Evidently the meteorological experts, who had already postponed the show for 24 hours, really held the pistol. Our skipper said that if we shipped anchor at 1800 hours, we should know it was "on". This, in point of fact, we did, and with the issue of real maps of the operational area, now seen for the first time by most people, came the realisation that the invasion of Europe was about to become a reality. It is difficult to describe the feelings we experienced during that channel crossing: there was no undue excitement but certainly no misgivings. We folded our maps and made other final preparations, ate and slept normally (those of us who were fortunate enough not to be sea-sick, and that was the majority, thanks to the anti-sea sickness tablets issued by Lt. Col. G. E. Wood of the 9^th Field Ambulance), and after breakfast we strolled about the decks watching our protective screen of destroyers or the continuous squadrons of aircraft that passed overhead towards the French coast. The feeling uppermost was still one of quiet confidence – confidence in the ability of the R.A.F. to keep their promise that not one hostile aircraft would be allowed to attack our convoy, confidence in the Navy to land us safely and in the right place, and confidence in ourselves to carry out the plan we knew so well.

There was one moment of anxiety during the crossing. The L.C.I. containing Lt. A. F. Henry’s platoon, which had been briefed for an immediate reconnaissance patrol on bicycles as soon as it landed, fouled a buoy and gradually dropped astern. Immediately instructions were wirelessed to OC "A" Coy, Maj. S. J. Larkin, to prepare another platoon for the task. However, after a couple of hours, we saw the other craft gradually coming up behind, and all was well.

Almost until the last minute we had high hopes of that unusual phenomenon – a dry landing, but it was not to be. Though the sea in mid-channel had been reasonably calm, it was quite choppy inshore, and in spite of the provision of waders, most of the Battalion got wet. However, other things might have happened which didn’t, so nobody grumbled. There was the odd mortar bomb dropping around, but the Battalion landed and cleared the beach immediately without single casualty – a remarkable record in such an operation, and a tribute to the efforts of the Navy, the R.A.F. and the assaulting brigades.

It was on the beaches that we first made contact with the enemy, but every single one had his hands up and was being shepherded into the P. W. Cage with energetic lunges from British bayonets.

At the crossroads at Hermanville-sur-Mer we were met by Capt. P. H. W. Clarke and the Battalion recce party, who had landed earlier to prepare the way for us. We were guided by them to our assembly area, which we reached without incident, and Lt. A. F. Henry and his cyclists set off on their reconnaissance.

The plan was for the Battalion to advance as part of 9 British Infantry Brigade group on the right of the Divisional axis, through Cresserons and Plumetot to Cambes and Galmanche. The final objective of the Brigade was the area Couvre-Chef – La Folie – St. Contest – Cambes – Galmanche, with Brigade HQ in Cambes. But alas, the immortal words of the poet Burns:

"The best laid schemes of mice and men gang oft agley"

were to be proved true in our case. The seaside hamlets of Lion-sur-Mer and Luc-sur-Mer, which were to have been cleared of enemy by 41 Royal Marine Commando, had proved more strongly held than had been anticipated, and stiff fighting was still going on. This meant that the German defensive position between Cresserons and the sea – carefully noted on recent air photographs – which the capture of these two seaside resorts would have rendered untenable, was still held. What is more it was astride one of the main Brigade axes of advance. The position was further complicated by the wounding of the Brigade Commander. A mortar bomb fell right in the middle of the temporary Brigade HQ, wounding Brigadier J. C. Cunningham, MC, his GSO III, his IO, one of his LOs and several other members of the HQ. It was a bitter blow, both to him and to the Brigade. During the 18 months or so that he had been in command, he had won the respect and affection of all ranks, both by reason of his sound tactical skill and his essentially human character. Lt-Col. I. C. Harris of 2 Royal Ulster Rifles took over temporary command, but in a few hours gave way to Brigadier A.D.G. Orr DSO, an old friend well known to us all.

The CO was called to attend an ‘O’ Group, and he disposed the Battalion in a fairly tight perimeter before he went "A" and "B" Coys moved out to the west and dug in, the former watching the flank of the Commandos and engaging the enemy whenever he showed himself, the latter prepared to take on any Hun who dared to leave his hole South East of Cresserons. "D" Coy guarded the main cross roads between Battalion HQ and the sea, while "C" Coy watched the rear. Battalion HQ dug in in one of the orchards with which we were to become so familiar in our travels through Normandy.

It was here that the Battalion suffered its first casualties. Pte Newsome of "D" Coy was killed and twelve others wounded, including Capt. D. R. F. Hart, MC, 2IC of "A" Coy, who had a finger removed by a machine gun bullet.

Just after midnight the IO, Lt. J. Harrod, was summoned to Brigade HQ, to take the place of the Brigade IO, who had been wounded earlier in the day.

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