D-DAY,
JUNE 6,1944 AS SEEN FROM US LCT (6) 544
By
Bill O'Neill
Description
of the LCT
US
LCT (6) 544, the navy designation for Landing Craft Tank, was one of the
approximately 5,000 vessels of all types that participated in the 6/6/44
Normandy invasion. As a craft, loosely defined as a vessel that could be
carried aboard a ship, it did not rate an official name, or a USS (United
States Ship) designation.
The
craft was a 125' long, 25' wide and six foot in depth flat-bottomed
barge-like vessel. It had a propulsion plant of three marine diesel engines,
located below deck, two rudders, a bow ramp, two 20mm anti-aircraft cannons,
and a heavy-duty stem anchor to help in beach retraction. It was a
comfortable vessel compared to a prior model. It had a shower in a large
head, hot water, and a separate galley with an electric stove and a
refrigerator. Navigation wise, there was a 12' lamp for signaling, a good
magnetic compass, and a short wave radio including a voice channel, all
lacking in a prior model. The 12 man crew of the 544 was composed of five
veteran petty officers who had served in the North African and Mediterranean
campaigns, a skipper, and his assistant who were recently graduated ensigns,
and five seamen who were fresh out of boot camp.
Beach
Characteristics
Omaha
Beach is approximately four miles long and runs in an easterly/westerly
direction. The back of the beach consists of steep hills up to five hundred
feet high breached by four unpaved exits leading to villages situated along
a road running parallel to the beach. At each end of the beach the hills
turn into sheer cliffs rising almost directly from the sea. With an average
24 foot tide in the area there is a 150 yard stretch of exposed beach from
the low water line to the high water mark. The high water line is marked
mostly either by a concrete or wooden sea wall, about four feet high, and
just beyond, piles of shale like stones another five foot high. From there
to the foot of the hills, the terrain is either flat and grassy or
pockmarked with sandy dunes.
Beach
Defenses
The
German defenses were designed to win the battle on the beaches by killing or
driving the invaders back into the sea. The defense plan was multi-layered
starting with craft and tank obstacles embedded in the tidal area of the
beach designed to impeded the landings. Many were mined, and connected
electrically so that hitting one would explode many. The land beyond the sea
and shale wall was mined with anti-personnel, and vehicle explosives. Just
before the base up to the top of the hills, the German's had planted a
murderous array of machine gun emplacements, mortar pits, and mines. Strong
points with 88mm cannon in concrete bunkers or removed turrets from 47mm
French tanks set atop concrete holes. Each position had a panoramic view of
its field of fire painted on its wall as well as aiming settings
pre-calculated so that every inch of the beach was subjected to enfilading
fire. The bunkers were sited to point along the beach line, and were
protected from naval guns by thick concrete shields.
The
idea was to kill as many invaders as possible before or at the shoreline.
For any that survived, they would be forced to advance through the heavily
fortified exits. The Germans were prepared for a different outcome in that
if the allies breached the Atlantic Wall, they believed that the allies
would be still be defeated by units rushed from nearby reserve areas.
544
Mission
The
544's mission in the battle of Omaha Beach, was to deliver a Headquarters
1st Infantry Division scout team and a squad of the 5t Battalion
Special Combat Engineers to a sector of the beach known by the code name Fox
Green,, The assault force mission was to capture the eastern most exit
leading to the town of Colleville sur Mere, designated as an army
marshalling area. A similar landing would be made on the western side of the
exit.
The
544's voyage started on June 4th departing Wey mouth harbor at
3:30 am for the approximately 20 plus hour voyage to Normandy. As one of the
slowest assault vessels, making around five knots, but one of the earliest
to land, it was in the first convoy to sail. The sea was stormy with a
gusting fifty knot wind and ten foot waves. The flat-bottomed LCTs were
having a difficult time keeping station. With three engines and rudders LCTs
were very maneuverable in calm water, but floating on the top of the waves,
as they were designed to do, they were difficult to control in bad weather.
Sometimes speeding up or slowing down to avoid collisions, sailing sideways
at the whim of the wind, sitting high on the top of a wave then down the
slope to a bone shaking crash to the bottom, with decks deep in water,
nevertheless the LCTs wallowed along in wavy lines towards the far shore.
A
little passed noon, British destroyers ran down the columns, and using loud
hailers orally informed the craft that they were to reverse course and
return to Weymouth. General Elsenhower had postponed the invasion because of
the bad weather. The orders were given to make a 180 degree right turn at
the drop of destroyer yardarm flag. With a still rough sea and high wind the
turn, which must have looked like a Keystone cop movie scene, was
accomplished and the armada headed for home.
Arriving
at Weymouth around midnight it seemed that the 544 had just tied up to a
mooring buoy when orders were received that the invasion was on. At its
original time except 24 hours later the 544 cast off its lines and again set
sail for France.
By
dawn the crew had been up for over 32 hours, and a schedule to allow some
sleep was arranged. The sea had moderated, visibility had much improved, and
station keeping was more easily maintained than the day before. The view
with these better conditions was astonishing. The sea was studded with
landing craft of all types from horizon to horizon. Above the skies were
crisscrossed with the contrails of hundreds of medium and heavy bombers. No
warships or troopships were in sight. With their considerably greater speed
they would soon catch up.
My
final sleep period ended at 4:3 Oam just about the time the 544 was passing
through the bombardment group's positioning for their work soon to begin.
While I slept the column ofLCTs had diminished to only those to land on Fox
Green, the others having peeled off to positions opposite assigned landing
zones. About that time, huge flashes from battleships and cruisers lit the
scene behind us opening the mayhem that was to follow.
I
have been always fascinated by the flight of the shells in these pyrotechnic
displays. Heated to white-hot temperatures, shells are clearly visible,
especially in a dark sky. Sailing along lazily in pairs from the twin gun
turrets of the warships thousands of these messengers of death and
destruction flew overhead.
By
now the warships had dipped below the horizon so that the gun flashes,
without a moment of pause, resembled a severe lightning storm blasting off
in the distance. The 544 now was at its first control point monitored by a
US Navy patrol craft. Infantry loaded LCVPs (Landing Craft Vehicle
Personnel) raced by, intent on meeting their scheduled landing. For these
small boats the sea was still too choppy for a smooth ride, as it proved to
be for the DD tanks* of Fox Green.
544
Manned and Ready
Now
some 2.5 miles from the beach the crew were at their General Quarters'
stations dressed for the occasion with steel helmet, impregnated anti gas
outer clothing, and gas mask nearby. For the LCT general quarters required
two seamen at the bow ramp controls, a loader and a gunner at each 20mm
cocked and ready to fire cannon, one seaman to control the stem anchor, me
safely behind the wheelhouse, skipper on the bridge along with the relief
officer and helmsman/engine controller, and the craft's cook in the galley
that was set up for first aid. I got a relatively safe station because, in
all modesty, I could really handle the craft. The relief officer had only
been aboard for a short time, not long enough to learn how to run the LCT.
The skipper wanted me to bring the LCT in if he was incapacitated. The cook
as the oldest man on the crew, married and a father of three, merits special
mention. He ran a small family abattoir and butcher business, and was a
volunteer EMT with several years experience. Those skills saved many lives
on this day.
*Dual
Drive Sherman Tanks fitted with a canvas skirt for buoyancy and a propeller
to allow them to swim into the beach under their own power. They were
launched from LCTs approximately two miles from the shore.
The army was ready to
go. The jeeps had been prepared for traveling in deep water. Snorkel tubes
six feet long were fitted on carburetors, and wiring and other critical
parts were waterproofed so that the vehicles could operate under water. The
soldiers had tied the jeeps to the engineer's skid of materials. The craft's
ramp was wide enough to pull the whole lot off together. The engineers sat
perched on the skid with 303cal carbines slung over their shoulders, the
same weapon carried by the infantry, nervously cradled in the soldier's
arms.
The
infantry scouts, landing in eight jeeps, were to identify enemy positions,
organize the troops on the ground, and inform ship borne headquarters
personnel of the battle situation.
The
engineers, armed with a large Cat tractor and portable road wire, were to
break through, level the high shale wall, and lay steel tracks on the soft
sand so that wheeled vehicles could navigate the beach.
The
general plan was: a naval beach bombardment for 35 minutes, and an air force
bombing of German positions at about the same time. Immediately following
the bombing, tanks landing to engage enemy positions surviving the latter
actions Then on their heels, landing simultaneously was the first waves of
infantry to gain a foot hold in the sector, naval beach battalions to direct
subsequent landing traffic, and underwater teams in to blow and mark safe
paths through the obstacles for landing craft. After a half hour hiatus,
infantry landings would resume at 10 minute intervals until 10:15 AM. By
then it was believed that the beach defenses would be breached, and a front
would be established on the coastal road. Following would be a flood of men
and machines to build up enough strength to repel the inevitable counter
attack.
What
Really Happened at Fox Green and Easy Red
The
first hours on Fox Green and Easy Red had all of the elements of a disaster.
First, the thirty-five minute bombardment was not long enough to destroy all
of the assigned targets. Intelligence had failed to identify many other
strong points that were not even touched. Second, a heavy overcast caused
the air force, afraid of killing allied troops, to drop their bombs three
miles inland. Bombs not only destroy defenses, but bomb craters make
excellent cover for attacking troops. Third, the DD tanks either sank in the
choppy water, or were knocked off by enemy guns as soon as they came in
range. Only one tank made it all the way to the high water mark on Fox Green
of 34 launched, and only two made it on Easy Red. The UDTs working at
daybreak were easy targets for German guns, and they suffered many
casualties
Near
Fox Green
Finally
it was time to leave the departure line and head for the assigned landing
spot. A lane through the obstacles had not been marked so that the approach
was tentative. There was no apparent action beyond the beach. Not the
planned advance of tanks and troops out flanking the defenders of the E-I
exit. There was a thin line of troops lying at the waters edge, the remains
of four infantry companies (720 men) plus the naval beach party that should
have been there. Of the 34 DD tanks of the 741 Tank Battalion only one had
made it all the way in, but was partially destroyed. There were bodies in
the water, submerged or not depending on when they fell relative to the tide
weighted down by their equipment. Others, who managed to shed that weight
before they died, bobbed along with the tide buoyant from inflatable waist
preservers.
Much
to my surprise, the skipper shouted: "semaphore signal from the
beach". Somehow, some of the navy beach battalion had made it to the
beach. I grabbed a pair of flags, and climbed to the top of the wheelhouse.
Sure enough, there was a sailor crouching waving his flags. I signaled,
"K", the letter that means go ahead. His message was: "Stay
low, keep your head down". With the possibility of serious harm
standing on the highest part of the LCT, I had some evil thoughts over that
advice.
Getting
up there had one advantage. I could see that the chance of reaching the
beach through the obstacles was poor, but the chance of being slaughtered by
the unchallenged firepower of the enemy was very high. Actually 100% as the
544 would be the only visible target on the beach. I was still on the
wheelhouse top, lying on my stomach, looking up at the skipper who was
standing on a bench inside the wheelhouse, with half of him sticking through
a hatch in the top. I repeated the message, and said "not here
skipper" better spot on the right.
I
believe that he had the same idea. The 544 went into reverse, turned right
headed to the other side of the exit.
I had
another little thing that I wanted to do, and that was to take some pictures
of the landing. I had bought an old bellows focusing second hand camera in
the UK, and one roll of film. I had taken one shot of Fox Green, and another
earlier, judging that there was enough light to get an exposure.
The
544 sailed parallel to the shore not too far off the beach. With all of
those weapons in the hills, I had a vision of a carnival shooting gallery
with the 544 as one of the ducks running by on a belt being picked off by an
army of showoff marksmen. Yet not a shell came our way. It soon became
obvious that the German's preferred killing zone was the high water line.
There was plenty of cannon, mortar, and machine gun fire raining down on the
virtually helpless troops huddled behind the shale wall.
544
on Easy Red
It
was less than a mile to the other side of the Exit within the Easy Red
sector. There were more troops there than at Fox Green, and a LCT (540) was
on the beach. Comparatively, Easy Red looked like home. The order was given
to turn left, and with throttles wide open, and on a racing flood tide,
there would be no tentative safe path searching, the fate of the 544, of its
crew and passengers rested in the benevolent bosom of dumb luck.
The
stem anchor, our insurance against being stranded, was dropped, and in a
short time the LCT smashed into a sand bar. We were beached at last. The bow
ramp was dropped with a splash, and without a moment's hesitation the big
Cat with its blade elevated roared off dragging skid, jeeps, and personnel
behind. Well above the shale wall the Cat attracted every machine gunner in
range. Bullets showered on the blade from every direction. That firing woke
up the 544 gunners, and, although the location of the enemy was obscured due
to concealment and smoke, they sprayed the foot of the hill with 20mm
shells.
The
craft was still around 50 yards from the high water mark. Directly in front
of the ramp was a runnel, a deep pool caused by tide and current. Into it
steamed the tractor. The skid was high enough so that the engineers stayed
dry, but the infantry in jeeps was not. I watched each pair of jeeps go down
the slope of the pool, occupants stretching their necks backwards in a vain
attempt to keep breathing, then disappearing until reappearing at the other
side.
To
avoid running over the men ahead, the Cat driver turned left, and headed
down the beach towards Fox Green. Just before this maneuver the jeeps cast
off on the fly, and headed for shale wall shelter.
There
was plenty else going on nearby at this time. The LCT 540 was withdrawing,
her bow had been damaged so that the ramp apparently couldn't be raised.
Later it was learned that her skipper had been killed, and others wounded.
Off to the right the LCT 305 was in and tanks were coming off firing as they
cleared the vessel. The LCT 305 was under heavy shellfire, probably by the
88mm to our right. The LCT 25 with a cargo of Half-Tracks (A Half-Track was
an opened armored truck. Instead of rear wheels it had a tank tracks and
conventional front wheels. It was armed with a 37mm cannon and twin 50cal
machine guns) landed to our left. As the first vehicle was racing down the
ramp it was hit and burst into flames. Instantaneously the rest of the craft
and its contents blew up in a violent bust of exploding ammunition and
flame. The 544 gunners continued firing into the hills, even though no
targets were visible.
A few
LCVPs were landing quickly unloading and withdrawing. They were prime
targets mostly carrying infantry. One landed alongside the 544, and was
targeted by unseen guns, the infantry left in a hurry, but some were hit.
The LCVP coxswain didn't bother to wait for his deck hand to raise the ramp,
or turn his craft around, with wood chips flying in the air as the bullets
hit the hull, he gunned it out in reverse zigzagging wildly to avoid being
hit.
The
Destroyer Command Takes Over
If
there was any army offensive action it wasn't apparent. Even the few tanks
making it to the shale wall stopped, content with what seemed to be
desultory random shots into the hills. Suddenly, like the cavalry in an old
western movie, several US Navy destroyers came thundering towards the shore.
As near as they probably dared to go in relatively shallow waters, they
started to pound the hills and casements with their five inch guns. There
were four arrayed behind the 544. One destroyer's, located almost directly
behind the 544, shells came whistling overhead, tearing great chunks of
concrete out of the slanted shield of casement walls, and then following the
angle of the target they ricocheted high in the air. The noise wasn't
deafening, more of a crack than a bang, but the concussion from the blast
had ears ringing. They traversed the shoreline, back and forth, in a no
holds barred, eyeball-to-eyeball street fight with the enemy forces
concealed in the hill.
New
Task for the 544
Our
orders were to land, unload, and report by radio to our control vessel for
another assignment. However, there were dead and wounded in the area. Of
necessity some of the crew stayed on their stations, but whoever was free
helped medics and other army personnel to bring wounded soldiers and no
doubt sailors on to the LCT. The living quarters were soon filled, then the
inside spaces, then every available free spot on he deck. There were only a
few litters, and they were used over and over. The bearers would move the
occupant on to the deck, and then hustle off for another trip.
There
was no end to the supply of wounded. Each troop landing would inevitably
result in a new supply. Finally the beach became so chaotic that landings
were suspended. For a while the 544 was the only vessel on Easy Red except
for the knocked out sister LCTs.
Around
11:3 Oam the tide showed signs of ebbing. It was time to leave. The 544 had
survived almost four hours on Easy Red, reputed to be the most dangerous of
the invasion. The last of the wounded were rushed aboard, ramp raised, and
using the engines and the power of the winch the craft slowly backed off
into deep water, and headed out towards the troop ship anchorage, a 12 mile
trip. Empty, sailing with the tide induced current, and running flat out,
the anchorage was reached in less than two hours.
On
the way out, as they had done while on the beach, our cook and the army
medic did all they could to aid the wounded. Supplies were meager, little
blood plasma was available, and most of the aid was restricted to using
waterproof wound packets of bandage gauze and a pouch of powdered sulfur
disinfectant that soldiers and sailors carried. Nevertheless, its possible
that even that simple form of first aid was a factor in saving some that may
not have survived otherwise.
The
544 had a 12" carbon arc signal lamp so that it was possible to signal
from some distance to the closest troop ship informing them of our
situation, and to ask for assistance. The response was come along side. By
the time the 544 was alongside the ship's four booms were deployed with twin
wire cage litters rigged, ladders were out, and navy corpsmen were on the
rail ready to board the 544. Well trained corpsmen, with MDs in attendance,
and sufficient supplies available the ship's medical team went to work
rapidly checking conditions, and starting proper treatment.
The
crew was perfectly content to let the ship's personnel take over. New orders
from control were to anchor in the vicinity, and to expect a new assignment
at dawn. Although everyone was bone weary, all turned to clean the LCT for a
fresh start in the morning. The outside deck was littered with discarder
bandages, morphine capsules, bits of tissue, and clothing. Crew bunks,
mattresses, and blankets were soaked with blood. These items were brought
outside and thrown overboard. The fire pump was rigged, the ramp lowered,
and the decks were flushed with seawater pushing everything into the sea.
Finally personal items were moved to a dry location and the inside spaces
were hosed down and mopped dry.
Watches
were set, and the crew settled down for some welcome sleep. Some of the
bunks had not been used in the evacuation of the wounded and they were
rotated among on watch crew members and those off watch. The rest, using
life jackets as pillows got as comfortable as possible.
Shots
in the Night
Around
midnight anti-aircraft firing started on the western edge of the anchorage,
and grew as each ship picked up the presence of enemy aircraft. The 544 went
to general quarters immediately. On a dark night, without radar, the 544's
guns presented more danger to allied ships than to the Germans so that its
guns remained silent. Gravity being what it is, dictates that what goes up
must come down. All of those shells fired at planes, soon return to earth as
fragments sounding much gentle rain falling on the vessel's hull. The
downside from this idyllic vision is the deafening sound of firing guns, and
the stifling odor of burnt cordite.
Not
all of the shells explode in the air. Invariably some are defective, and
return to earth as destructive missiles. One hit the 544, landing on a mesh
platform steel bridge joining the two cabins on each side of the vessel,
exploding on impact. The relief officer standing with his left side out of
the wheelhouse, caught fragments of the shell from his calf to shoulder. The
544's de Facto cook/ EMT cleaned the relief officer's wounds, and though
numerous, were not serious. With a shot of morphine for comfort,
transferring him to a ship with medical facilities could wait until the
dawn. There was much irony in being a victim of friendly fire 12 miles or so
from the main battle. Especially since the spot where the 544 sat for almost
four hours has been considered the most dangerous of any US battleground in
WWII.
544
and the USS Susan B. Anthony
I had
the watch at daybreak. The transport area was almost empty. Apparently some
troop transports free of troops had returned to the UK to reload. Others
with army reserves aboard had moved closer to shore to reduce the distance
that their LCVPs would have to travel to shore. A transport signaled by
blinker "to come alongside immediately". In response, I started to
explain that the 544 had orders to remain at anchor, when the ship broke in
with the message "We are sinking". I jumped off the top of the
wheelhouse, ran into the crew quarters, kicked the engineers awake shouting:
"get underway". The 544 never got underway so quickly. A fleet tug
boat and a LCI was already along side embarking soldiers. The 544 maneuvered
to make a sliding broadside turn to a position against the transport's hull.
Cargo nets were dropped by the transport's crew, and soldiers scrambled down
them onto the LCT. The ship in distress was the USS Susan B. Anthony
carrying a reserve infantry division scheduled to land on Utah beach that
afternoon. The ship had hit a mine, possibly one dropped in the air raid the
night before. They were put aboard a troop ship on its way to the UK,
presumably to be reequipped. The transport also agreed to take our wounded
officer.
Back
to Work for the 544
The
544 was ordered to pick up a load of 81mm mortar shells and deliver them to
Fox Green. It was early evening by the time we loaded, and made the trip to
Fox Green. We were not concerned about darkness as daylight persisted until
22:00 in those northern climes. Coming in on a rising tide we were confident
that the LCT would be unloaded before ebb tide trapped us. The beach master
told us that the shells were badly needed, as the Germans were counter
attacking through the gap between British beaches and Omaha's Fox Green.
Half
of the crew pitched to help unload, and the skipper sent the rest to two
partially destroyed and abandoned LCIs to salvage enough bunks, blankets,
and mattresses to replace those lost the day before. Salvaging personnel
effects was not permitted, except for a washing machine and small jute box.
Most
of the shells had been unloaded when shelling of the beach began. We were
told to depart, stay out of range, and return in the nest morning.
The
544's War Ends
When
the 544 departed Fox Green on the evening ofD-Day plus one anxiously
watching German shells exploding on the beach it would be hard to convince
the crew that they had seen the last of combat. Landing the next morning it
was obvious that the American army was there to stay.
The
beach, however, was a sad place. Strewn among the piles of debris were the
dead. In clusters, singularly, burnt remains in burned out vehicles and
landing craft, lying in shallow water weighted down by equipment, but all
appearing to be moving forward towards the enemy. Graves registration teams
were moving bodies into neat lines beyond the shale wall to save them from
further mutilation.
Nevertheless,
engineers, Seabees, stevedore troops, and beach masters were hard at work
preparing the beach and the now liberated exits for the massive flow of men
and material required to sustain the invasion.
The
LCT was a cog in the supply system for the balance of its time in Normandy.
Except for stormy days when it was too rough to work, activity went on for
24 hours a day seven days a week.
Finally,
in September the vessel was ordered to return to England for comprehensive
maintenance. That was a break for me and the other Mediterranean veterans.
At the time the Navy's policy was to rotate personnel after 24 months of
overseas duty for a thirty-day leave.
A
Presidential Unit Award was recommended for the crew of the 544, but it was
not acted on. Our skipper was recommended for the Silver Star, but it was
not acted on. The cook received the Navy and Marine Corps Medal with a V
device for valor in Combat, and the seaman who was first on the beach
recovering wounded soldiers was awarded a Silver Star. The relief skipper
was awarded a Purple Heart.
