"I’m quite sure that all on board here felt a distinct thrill as we crept right into the French coast – close enough to see the church, houses, and details of the district – and being one of the very first on the scene, added much to the tension."
The letter was written 19th June 1944 from my father to my mother. It describes his experience of D Day aboard HMS Nith. He was a Leading Telegraphist leading a team controlling landing craft for Gold (Jig) beach. His ship later took charge of shipping to the Mulberry harbour and on 24th June he and his team were killed in action following an air attack.
I found the letter along with all his letters home from 1939, while clearing her house following her death. He had spent most time at sea escorting convoys from India to South Africa then in the Atlantic, including the invasion of North Africa.
Transcript:
H C LANGFORD, W/TEL
13.6.44
Eileen Prec Prec.
Second effort today, hence you can imagine the need for a change of location – a change of diet and a long peaceful snooze, just hours of slumber, cool sheets, fresh breeze from an open window and "silence" – no longer the constant hum, and noise of ship-life – no oily breathing and would it be asking the gods too much if you were there too – Personally I think it would – Something is very definitely wrong. You can imagine just how opposite to the above, life has been for the past week –. Today is seven days after "D" day – I remember this time last week so vividly – the wonderment that after the initial assault, we were still alive and kicking. So much more danger seemed apparent and yet, as the minutes, then hours, ticked away – I breathed again, I had time to think. T'was just like being reborn, the briefing of the previous week had increased certain nervous activities and I presume the general dormant feeling prevailing three days afterwards, was due entirely to reaction, not the severe mental work of communication. There's no doubt now that in my inner mind I would not have missed this show for anything and I’m quite sure that all on board here felt a distinct thrill as we crept right into the French coast – close enough to see the church, houses, and details of the district – and being one of the very first on the scene, added much to the tension. – Gee, I stood on the deck, and could not believe my eyes, to have left English shores behind only the previous night, and now look on this much vaunted Western Wall. Well, you can guess the rest – No panic, but everything burst, and amidst the continual roar of the opening of the "D" day – organisation was kept on top line. — I managed to hold my job down, although t'was hectic, and now seven days after – I sit once again on the mess-deck, writing Smiljie, a thing I hardly dared to think of just a week ago. One thing that hit me was the playing of "Would it be wrong" as the English coast faded into the evening of June the fifth. It was played by a fellow on the upper deck on an accordion, Imagine the reaction – I believe you were with me at the time – but I believe you were slightly afraid. Is that true?
To lighten the subject an amusing incident, was the remark by the lady announcer on "Calais radio" at the end of that evening’s programme (ie. June 5th) was. Remember now – listen again tomorrow at 0600 etc –Don’t forget. "You’ve a date with me" – and did we keep it – Hi Hi – So much for that and now to general topics. Pass my greeting to Joan and George: one doesn’t really value friends until you realise that you might be suddenly on your "own": Hence I thought much of them. I’ve not written home, neither have I had news from them. Still tomorrow may be – good oh! perhaps mail. – With special greetings for Robert, the little rascal – I say cheerio.
Take care Harry
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