RAF AIR/SEA RESCUE
A Special D-Day Mission
For a select few serving in the RAF
Air Sea Rescue Service, D Day was to find them undertaking an important, top
secret task which would improve the chances of survival of thousands of
servicemen . It was so secret that the
crews did not know what they were involved in until they were in position off
the Normandy beaches.
In March 1944 five RAF skippers were selected from the British
Isles Air Sea Rescue Service for a Combined Operation on D-Day. The skippers
were given a freehand to pick their crews from any unit they wished. My skipper,
Flying Officer (F/O) W E Probert, was one of the five chosen and on whose crew I
had served as a wireless operator mechanic for some time.
F/O Bill Probert had risen from the ranks and was highly
respected by all who served with him. He was a man of few words who led by
example. We came from No.48 Air Sea Rescue Marine Craft Unit (ASRMCU) at
Tenby, as did another Skipper, F/O Ambler. The two crews were given new
Thornycroft High Speed Launches which had their armament upgraded for the
operation. The three .303 machine guns located in their manual turrets were
replaced aft by a 20mm Oerlikon. The tops of the port and starboard turrets were
removed and .5 Browning machine guns were installed.
Our duties at Mount Batten from March until June were those of
any Air/Sea Rescue unit but with
frequent gunnery exercises in the English Channel. We were on duty 24 hours a
day for 4 days running, living onboard in cramped conditions, except for meals
ashore. The fifth day we had off duty. [Photo; the author
veteran Clifford N Burkett.]
Such was the secrecy we were not given any details of our D
Day mission. Two days before D Day a white star was painted on the foredeck by
the deckhands and immediately covered for security reasons. A white star was
painted on all aircraft, vehicles, vessels, tanks etc. so any vehicle, aircraft
or vessel not with a star was treated as the enemy. The Skippers, Wireless
Operators and Cox'ns met in a hanger guarded by the RAF Regiment with fixed
bayonets. The purpose was to provide a minimal briefing to the coxswains and
wireless operators who were given new wireless frequencies and call signs. Only
the Skippers were given more information.
Our HSL was numbered 2655, F/O Ambler's was 2653 and the
others were 2512 & 2513. There was a fifth which, on the day, was "up the slip
for repair". The choice of the launch class was a disappointment to those of us
who had previously served on the faster and superior HSLs built by the British
Power Boat Company at Hythe. However, speed was not the only characteristic
needed for the operation. Thorneycrofts were slightly bigger and able to
accommodate more aircrew/paras survivors.
En Route to Normandy
We assembled at RAF Mount Batten, No. 43 ASRMCU, Plymouth,
where we were joined by 3 other selected RAF High Speed Launch (HSL) crews. From
there our 4 serviceable HSLs dropped their moorings at 3.30 pm on the afternoon
before D Day with extra dinghies lashed on decks. We were joined by 3 RN Motor
Gun Boats (MGBs) from Devonport while we were still in Plymouth Sound. D Day had
been postponed for 24 hours because of the bad weather and most of the troops
had already spent an uncomfortable 24 hours on board their craft. After sailing
out through the Plymouth Hoe boom we saw a number of landing craft tossing about
at anchor in Cawsand Bay. "Poor bloody infantry" sprung to mind for they still
had to cross the Channel in rough weather, disembark, wade ashore and fight
their way off the beaches early the next morning.
Part way across the Channel by a circuitous route, all but one
of the MGBs left us. We arrived off the coast of Normandy at 11 pm. Half an hour
later the RAF launches and the RN MGB switched on their search lights, which seemed an
odd thing to do in hostile waters. However, it soon became clear that the first
part of our first mission was to act as light beacons to guide in the USA 82nd
and 101st Airborne Divisions, comprising 5,000 men, to be dropped behind
the Omaha & Utah beaches.
With 5 launches, any losses due to enemy action or breakdown,
would be compensated for and the additional fire power of the extra craft would
provide added defence against anticipated E Boat attacks. Around midnight we
witnessed the huge bombardment of the coastal defences by the Allied Air Forces.
While it lasted the coastline was a wall of flame as far as we could see, such
was the intensity of the exploding bombs. We maintained station all night but,
because of tidal drift, had to sail back 2 or more hundred yards every 20
minutes or so in order to maintain our exact position. The noise the 5 vessels
made when restarting their engines each time was deafening and we worried that
the enemy would be alerted. We would have been a poor match for the German E
boats which we knew regularly patrolled the whole of the Normandy coast every
night. Fresh in our minds was the
death and destruction they had wreaked only a few weeks earlier, when over 700
USA sailors were lost off Slapton Sands during a training exercise called
We expected to be fired at from the sea
or the shore at any time but thankfully this did not happen. I was on wireless
telegraphy (W/T) watch 2 hours on and 2 hours off and still have my W/T log book
with all times recorded. When not on W/T watch I was on deck. The reason I could
do this, even though we had to keep watch on two radios, (W/T & VHF), was
because I had fitted up a Standard Beam Approach "mixer" box in the wireless
cabin. It was an unofficial arrangement approved by the Skipper. With the mixer
box the signals from two receivers could be fed into one Operator's earphones,
but could also be separated at will as required. We were on strict "W/T silence"
so as not to give our position away to the enemy and if messages came in on
either receiver the Operator on watch could recall the other one if required.
Another advantage of this arrangement was that it allowed one of the W/Operators
to accompany F/O Probert on the `bridge' to man the signalling lamp.
Shortly after the bombardment of the
enemy's coastal defences, aircraft carrying 'paras' and others towing gliders,
flew directly over us. In my periods on deck I witnessed 17 such formations fly
overhead. In his turns Bob Bell, the other wireless operator saw similar
numbers. It was an inspirational sight as they flew in formations of up to 50
aircraft, with all navigation lights on. We marvelled at the skill of the pilots
in keeping such tight formations.
At 0530 am, before the beach landings
began, we switched our lights off and the Royal Navy MGB left us for other
duties. We sailed round to the western side of the Cherbourg Peninsula where I
received coded W/T messages instructing us to search among the Channel Isles
for a Wellington bomber and a fighter aircraft. They had apparently ditched in
that area the day before. We split into two pairs and searched between and
around Jersey and Guernsey but after many fruitless hours searching we returned
to Plymouth because we were running dangerously short of fuel. The Germans were
by now well aware of our presence since a Ju 88 from Jersey flew overhead, but
thankfully ignored us. We had been at sea for over 30 hours sustained by one can
of self heating soup and adrenalin. The deck crew of 4 had manned the two
Browning machine guns and the Oerlikon for the whole time. Their eyes were
strained, red and sore from the constant lookout they kept and the sea. As we moved
out of the immediate danger area exhaustion overtook them in particular although
we were all very tired.
Most of the 5,000 airborne troops we
guided to their `drop zones' landed safely, although a number were scattered.
There were, of course, many losses but the survivors later joined up with their
comrades, as planned, who landed on Omaha and Utah beaches. We learned several
years later that the fighter aircraft we had searched for was found on the
seabed with the body of its Canadian pilot still on board. His widow requested
that he be left there, in the aircraft, as his grave. To my knowledge no trace
of the Wellington was ever found.
The day following our return to RAF
Mount Batten, we learned that not a single Allied aircraft had come down in our
area during the time we were at sea. Had any ditched, our orders were to stay on
station. Some years later, at one of our reunions, we learned that captured
German records had disclosed that the regular nightly patrols of E boats along
the Normandy coast were cancelled for that night by the German Navy Officer
Commanding at Cherbourg, because " the weather is too bad for the enemy to
invade tonight!" The Germans had underestimated our seamanship in the rough sea
conditions. Our unit's mission could not have gone better and was a triumph of
meticulous planning and training.
I attended the 64th anniversary of D
Day in June 2010 with the Normandy Veteran's Association. It was a typically
British occasion, restrained and well run with speeches of thanks and
remembrance by local Mayors. The French presented us with a badge of
Remembrance, the "Normandie Memoire". Several widows, wearing their husband's
decorations, accompanied us and many of those present, both men and women, wore
badges bearing a photograph of the Queen. This apparently because of the French
Government's snub at not inviting Her Majesty to the commemorations. However,
locally we received a very warm welcome from the people of Normandy. It was a
bitter/sweet occasion. On the one hand it brought back memories of school
friends and RAF comrades who gave their lives and on the other I was glad I had
been able to honour their memory and sacrifice.
The memory of those who served in the RAFVR in the various
fast rescue craft is immortalised in the especially commissioned painting
"Combined Operations - A Normandy Beachhead". A rescue craft can be seen plying
the waters off a Normandy beach in search of any service personnel in the water.
See the painting here.
We are indebted to Clifford N Burkett
for this account and for the photograph of HSL 2655 on which he served. The
photo was taken a few days before D
Day during a gunnery exercise. Clifford served in the RAF
Volunteer Reserve for 5 years, three of which were in the Air Sea Rescue
Service. Sadly, Cliff passed away in August 2013.