Swimming Shermans

The wind was blowing steadily, Force 5 from the west. All night long the LCT(3)s pushed on in line ahead, their square bows slapping into a succession of choppy waves. Tank crews, those not prostrate with seasickness, worked on their tanks. At some time, while it was still dark, each crew activated compressed-air bottles on their tank that inflated the black rubber tubes and up went the canvas screens to surround the upper hull and turret. Then the crews went around inside the screens and carefully locked the various supporting struts in place before settling down to await the dawn.

Each LCT (Tank Landing Craft), which was designed to carry nine ordinary tanks, tightly packed, had five of the Duplex Drive Shermans on board, since the DD tanks were bulkier than a conventional Sherman and needed more space to manoeuvre. Ten thousand yards (9,144m) from shore, the point marked by a midget submarine, the LCTs carrying the DD tanks of the 13th/18th Queen Mary’s Own Hussars fanned out until they were in line abreast. At H-Hour minus 110 minutes Major Wormald commanding A Squadron received the order ‘FLOATER’ on LCT number 101. His second-in-command on 102, Captain Lyon, went around his crews and dished out a tot of rum. More air was blown into the support tubes and at 5,000 yards (4,572m), some 2,000 yards (1,828m) further in than the original plan called for, the LCTs rang down to stop engines and each craft dropped a stern anchor while the crew prepared to lower the ramp. The sea was a bit calmer here, but not much.

Ten minutes was allowed for the launch and one by one the tanks manoeuvred onto the centre line of the tank deck and eased forwards. This was the tricky bit: first each tank had to make its way carefully through the narrow bow – touch either side and you would rip the canvas screen. Then you had to negotiate the ramp and slip into the water. According to the drill this was to be done in second gear so that the tank had enough velocity to drift clear of the ramp, but Wormald and Lyon had already agreed that their tanks would move off and stay in first, edging down the ramp with careful use of the clutch before taking the plunge. As each tank settled in the water and ensured it was clear of the ramp the driver lowered the two propellers and the unwieldy little craft started to get under way.

As his tank slipped down the ramp Major Wormald glanced at the shore; there, ahead of him he could make out the church tower at Lion-sur-Mer and calculated that his landing beach was 45 degrees off his port bow. At this time the shoreline was clear, but in a very short while it was obscured by shells from the warships behind him, by bombs from above and by more shells fired from self-propelled artillery on other landing craft. Very soon rockets from modified landing craft would also come roaring over to add to the noise and smoke. The major had absorbed a fair amount of nautical lore during training, and so had Captain Lyon, who was worried about the state of the sea: it had never been as rough as this during training. Lyon was most concerned about the effect of a beam sea – waves striking the sides of his tanks and swamping them – so he adopted a zigzag course to counter this. He remarked afterwards how well the tanks stood up to the conditions and was particularly pleased that a modification to the rear struts prevented them from collapsing under pressure. Struggling against the waves the flotilla of tanks formed straggling columns behind their pilot boats and headed for the shore.Not that it went smoothly for everyone. The first tank to try and launch from LCT 467 tore its screen and since the others could not get past there were two options – either dump the afflicted tank in the sea or take the whole troop ashore and land dry, which is what they did. As the last tank but one plunged off LCT 465 the ramp broke and the landing craft was obliged to sail home with the fifth tank still on board. Meanwhile, the remaining tanks of A and B Squadrons were ploughing on through the waves. Glancing round Captain Lyon counted 19 tanks, all keeping good station, but progress was slower than the timetable called for due to the rough weather, and that was not all. Some 1,200 yards (1,097m) from shore, Lyon said, they were overtaken by other LCTs ‘apparently steered by maniacs’ that threatened to run them down. His squadron altered course to avoid them but Captain Denny’s tank, from LCT 103, was hit and rolled over in the water. Denny was the only survivor.

Minutes later the LCT(R) rocket craft opened up. Major Wormald estimated that 10 per cent of the projectiles fell short, in amongst the swimming tanks. Now the LCTs that had driven through them went astern, but the DD tanks were unable to stop and overtook the landing craft. At this point the DD tanks were supposed to spread out in line abreast but this did not prove so easy; at about 300 yards (274m) from shore the drivers felt their tracks bite on the sand – they had made it.