Diary of the War – June 1944

D-Day 80

Modern colour photograph of the ends of two concrete Mulberry Harbour structures at sea, exposing their respective staircases, with a ship visible in the gap between them.
Two Phoenix caisson components for a Mulberry Harbour can still be seen at Portland, Dorset, where they were towed post-war. Listed Grade II
© Des Blenkinsopp 2019 CC-BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/6173674

Eighty years on from the launch of Operation Neptune on 6 June 1944, the largest seaborne invasion in history, we take a look at those craft which, for one reason or another, did not make it to the landing beaches of Normandy, but which do form part of a tangible heritage of D-Day around the southern coasts of England.

An invasion of this scale required considerable preparations, in assembling the fleet, in meeting the conditions they were likely to find geographically and militarily, and in meeting the needs of the invasion forces once the assault on Normandy began in earnest.

A key problem for the invasion forces was the issue of landing supplies in a hostile environment until French ports could be recaptured from the occupying forces. To overcome this problem, the ‘Mulberry Harbours’ were prefabricated concrete units to be towed across the Channel and assembled at Omaha and Gold, two of the five designated landing beaches. ‘Phoenix’ caissons were built to be sunk in great secrecy off the southern coasts of England to be refloated and towed across once the invasion was under way to build the Mulberry Harbours, supported by subsidiary units such as ‘Whale’ pontoons.

Not all of the Phoenix caissons could be refloated to serve their purpose, and a number of these survive at the spot they were sunk 80 years ago. They are charted in southern English waters from the Bristol Channel in the west via the English Channel facing the Normandy coast to the Thames Estuary in the east. The remains of these Phoenix units form a counterpart to the remains of the ‘as built’ Mulberry Harbours on the opposite side of the Channel. (The Portland caissons shown at the top of the blog are slightly different, in that they came back as part of a return group post-war.)

Modern colour photograph: aerial view of two sunken caissons just visible to centre right, emerging from a large expanse of murky grey-green water. A small beacon lies atop one, marking them out as a navigational hazard.
Aerial view of sunken Mulberry Harbour caissons in the Thames Estuary, off Southend-on-Sea, Essex.
© Simon Tomson 2022 CC-BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/7244874
Modern colour photograph of 8 sections of Mulberry Harbour in a bright blue sea, in various states of decay and angles from each other, no longer a coherent harbour assemblage.
Remains of the Mulberry Harbour at Arromanches-les-Bains, Normandy.
By Хрюша – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4770875

The invasion began during the night of 5-6 June. LCT(A) 2428 was a Mk V Landing Craft Tank (Armoured), which, as the description implies, was intended to carry tanks which could roll off directly onto the beach to provide covering firepower. This function would itself attract fierce return fire, so to that end the vessel was fitted with protective armour plating, hence the (Armoured) suffix.

Contemporary monochrome pen and ink drawing seen from the bridge of a landing craft under way, with the ramp being unloaded and tanks being readied for departure as the craft nears land in the distance.
A Landing Craft Tank at sea, 1944 (Art.IWM ART LD 4180) Edward Ernest James, 1944
Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/14233

LCT(A) 2428 was laden with Centaur CS IV tanks and Caterpillar D7 armoured bulldozers as she began to make her way over to Normandy. In the early evening of 5 June she broke down and anchored near the Nab Tower, to the east of the Isle of Wight. The vessel began to capsize following damage ‘sustained by weather to double bottoms on starboard side aft’ according to a military report, and shed her lading, although fortunately without loss of life. However, she remained afloat after capsizing, posing a navigational hazard, and the only remedy was to sink her by gunfire.

LCT(A) 2428 therefore lies some distance from her cargo of tanks and bulldozers, which now lie as an assemblage off Selsey Bill, Sussex – two wreck sites from one event. The remains of the tanks and bulldozers form a Scheduled Monument: read more about the scheduled site and discover more about the Landing Craft 2428 project.

Contemporary black & white photograph of a landing craft tank, ramp down, to left, temporary harbour infrastructure to right, and in the right distance, a steamer waiting offshore.
LCT Mk V 2291 (FL 7138), similar to LCT(A) 2428 but without the armour plating, discharging a bulldozer into a Landing Ship Dock. Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205120579

An operation at the scale of Neptune required air cover and air support. The wooden Horsa glider, a personnel carrier which could be towed to deploy troops by air, came into its own in seaborne invasions on D-Day and in other theatres of war. Like the Landing Craft Tanks, some of the gliders moved off for their own specific operations on the night of 5 June 1944, while others took to the air during D-Day itself.

Among them was Horsa Mk I LH550, bound for Landing Zone N at Ranville, Normandy, which slipped tow for reasons unknown, and ditched into the sea off Worthing, West Sussex, apparently without loss of life. Unlike the Mulberry remains or LCT(A) 2428 and her cargo, the last resting place of Horsa LH550 is unknown.

Contemporary watercolour sketch of grey aircraft, cockpit facing to the left of image, the fuselage broken at right, with its tail propped up against the wing. The wing has black and white invasion stripes.
A Horsa glider lying in a field with the rear end and tail fin resting against the left wing, giving some idea of how the Horsa wrecked off Worthing might have appeared, although in fact the rear compartment was intended to be broken off on landing:
preparatory sketch for ‘Crashed Gliders: the landing zone at Ranville, 1944’
(Art.IWM ART LD 6322) Albert Richards Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/22870

Convoy ETM-1, comprising American Liberty ships, sent to Britain under the Lend-Lease programme, and their escorts, left the Thames Estuary on the morning of D-Day en route to Normandy. The convoy moved south towards the Straits of Dover when one of their number, the Sambut, was struck by fire from German positions at Cap Gris Nez. War matériel by its very nature is usually hazardous, and cargo vessels laden with such dangerous cargoes extremely vulnerable. Sambut‘s cargo of petrol cans and vehicles caught fire, which led to an explosion of the gelignite she also carried, and it was impossible to save the ship, her crucial supplies, or, unfortunately, a quarter of the personnel on board. (Read our D-Day 70 blog for more detail on the loss of Sambut.) The loss of Sambut was captured on film in real time by another ship in the same convoy, and the reminiscences of a survivor of the 92nd Light Anti-Aircraft Regiment of the Royal Artillery who was on board, recorded 50 years after the event, are also in the collections of the Imperial War Museum (Reel 2, 05:50 onwards). It is a well-documented wreck and is known and charted.

In the breadth and diversity of the craft that were lost on 6 June 1944 within English waters – aircraft, land vehicles, cargo ships and floating harbour structures – we glimpse a little of the scale of the invasion. We recognise, too, the archaeological remains of a single day in history on this side of the Channel, linked to their counterparts lost the same day on the Normandy beaches, memorials in concrete, wood, and steel.

Diary of the Second World War – February 1944

LCI(S)511

Historic black and white photo of landing craft profiled in port view, showing a long, low craft and men clustered astern (to right of image)
LCI(S) 507 at sea (FL 9821) Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205120809

In early 1944 Britain was watching and waiting. ‘Lorries and tanks kept rumbling towards the south coast, so we knew something was going to happen,’ in the words of Corporal Cant, based at RAF Ford, Sussex, describing the later spring of 1944. ‘Nobody said anything about it. But more and more of them were building up. We saw, and we knew, but we didn’t know when, and we didn’t talk about it.’

There is something of that sense of anticipation in the wreck highlighted for February 1944, LCI(S)511, Landing Craft Infantry (Small) 511, on the Channel coast facing a France that soon would be the focus of a liberation effort by just such craft. With the benefit of historical hindsight, we can say ‘soon’, but at the time it must have felt that ‘soon’ would never come: scenes such as the one below, in the countdown to D-Day, were months away.

Historic black and white photograph of several landing craft roped together in harbour, with men in military uniform gathered on their decks
Commandos of 1st Special Service Brigade aboard LCI (S) (Landing Craft Infantry (Small)) at Warsash, Southampton, 3 June 1944. (H 39041) Copyright: © IWM. Original Source: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/205359405

All anyone could do was watch, wait, and play their part: and only those ‘in the know’ had an overview of what was happening behind the scenes. An initial joint plan, i.e. a combined Allied plan, was issued on 1 February for the invasion, with the naval outline plan following later that month. [2]

The Landing Craft Infantry (Small), LCI(S) for short, were built 1942-3 with bullet-proof armour plating over a wooden hull structure designed by the Fairmile Marine boatbuilding company, which specialised in motor boats (the company grew out of motor manufacture). The ‘Fairmile H’ design of the LCI(S) was produced in kit form and outsourced to other small boatbuilding firms for assembly, such as Leo Robinson at Oulton Broad, Suffolk, who built LCI(S)511 and LCI(S)533. [Explore Robinson’s yard in this historic image.] Others were built on Oulton Broad by Collins and Brook Marine, and production was dispersed countrywide, both because of the small scales of the yards and for security reasons. At 110 tons, 105 feet long x 22 feet wide, they were intended to carry a complement of around 100 men (descriptions vary from 96 to 102 troops). [3]

At the same time operational bases came into being in the run-up to D-Day. From 1942 the Southwick Ship Canal on the Sussex coast between Shoreham-by-Sea and Portslade became a Combined Operations Landing Craft Base, known as the ‘stone frigate’ HMS Lizard. HMS Lizard was further developed in 1943 and by January 1944 was ‘very busy’ with both large and small landing craft. Lizard‘s vessels and personnel are known to have participated in exercises over February 1944. [4]

The former river channel of the Adur was canalised to provide a harbour free from the natural silt deposit processes that were otherwise threatening to clog up the harbour mouth. It runs parallel to the seashore, with the river and harbour mouth further west, and sloping shingle beaches on the seaward side.

Modern colour photo taken from the viewpoint of the shingle bank in the foreground and to right which encloses the canal from the sea, looking to both arms of the canal east and west, under a heavy greyish sky.
Shoreham Harbour, seen from the eastern arm, looking towards the western arm (Southwick Ship Canal). To the right of the photograph is the outlet to the sea.
© Paul Gillett, CC BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/2360037

As a ship canal for both smaller and larger vessels, landing craft could be virtually hidden in plain sight, and as a USAAF air photo from April 1944 in Historic England’s collections shows, it would all appear quite innocuous, with existing buildings requisitioned to form the base, and a natural gathering place for craft.

The advantages of this location as a base were a natural seaward defence with an easily controlled harbour mouth, and on the shoreward side are sloping shingle beaches, ideal for rehearsing landings.

Modern colour photograph on a sunny day taken from a path at the top of the beach (left of image), looking down towards the beach running to the east, (centre of image) broken up by boulder breakwaters at intervals. To the right is a calm blue sea.
Beach and breakwater looking east towards Portslade in 2008.
© John Lucas CC BY-SA 2.0 https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1012841

The day after the Allies issued their joint plan on 1 February 1944, LCI(S)511 was beached at Portslade, Sussex, to become a total loss. [5] What happened there? There seems to have been nothing particularly unusual about the weather that day, with local readings recording a force 4 (‘moderate breeze’) at south-westerly and temperatures mild, between 49-53 degrees Fahrenheit, which would be recorded as 9-11 degrees Celsius today. [6]

We know of at least 74 other vessels that were lost in force 4 conditions in English waters since records of weather conditions at the time of loss began in the mid-19th century. They tend to have two broad characteristics: either something else happened to them, such as springing a leak, running aground or involvement in a collision, i.e. factors which are not weather-dependent and can be overwhelming in themselves; or they were small vessels, fishing smacks, yachts, cutters, barges, and so on, which could be quite disproportionately affected by weather conditions, depending on wind direction and their activity or lading at the time.

Records appear to be quite brief, but it is possible to read between the lines a little. The key word is that LCI(S)511 was beached. There are only two reasons for beaching vessels, i.e. to deliberately put them ashore: the first, and more benign, reason, is that they can be effectively ‘parked’, as sailing colliers once did to deliver their coal on the Sussex coast, or fishing boats can still be seen today drawn up on the foreshore in many places – and, of course, beaching was what landing craft were designed to do!

As we have seen, much of the Sussex coast, as at Portslade, comprises a gently sloping shingle shoreline, ideal for beaching vessels, and this history of safe landing grounds was what fitted Portslade and Shoreham on either side of the Adur to be a landing craft base.

However, beaching on the foreshore can leave the craft so drawn up very vulnerable if a storm subsequently ensues. In other words, they can be safely beached, then lost after beaching, but this seems unlikely in the weather conditions reported for 2 February 1944. With the beach ideal for the landing craft’s function, the design of the vessel suited for that purpose, and the base so close by, and operational and repair support therefore easily accessible, it seems surprising that LCI(S)511 became a total loss, in the brief and bald facts available to us.

So possibly something happened to LCI(S)511 that caused her to be beached, rather than being beached in the natural course of exercises, say. We turn now to the less benign reason for beaching vessels, which tends to happen on the nearest shore in extremis, for example having sprung a leak, taken on water, following a collision, or to avoid running onto a significant hazard nearby. In other words, something has happened to force the ship to run ashore to avoid sinking at sea.

It therefore seems plausible that something happened to LCI(S)511 at sea, possibly taking on water for some reason, or perhaps a collision, after which it proved impossible to get her into the shelter of the ship canal basin. Such an event would be natural on exercises: naval exercises ‘gone wrong’ in some way have historically caused several wrecks that are well-documented in the record, and a prior contributory factor which forced the vessel ashore seems the most plausible reason for the ensuing total loss that was reported.

The date of loss does not tally with the major exercises that were undertaken in the run-up to D-Day, but as we know that HMS Lizard was involved in exercises in February 1944, it seems reasonable to surmise that there were smaller-scale and more localised exercises that fed into major rehearsals as preparations for the invasion gathered pace.

Thus LCI(S)511 has the potential to combine both broad characteristics of vessels lost in force 4 conditions: a hint of a prior background cause, not influenced by the weather, that forced her to be beached, and the relatively small size of the vessel more vulnerable to mild weather conditions once already damaged.

Epilogue: LCI(S)508 was, until recently, seen as Valeur among the houseboat community of Shoreham-by-Sea on the Adur, not far from where LCI(S)511 met her end. For more on her story, explore footnote [7].

Footnotes

[1] Cant, R, 2012 unpublished oral history reminiscence, recorded and documented by Serena Cant

[2] Naval Historical Branch (nd) Operation Neptune: The Normandy Invasion: D Day 6 June 1944 (Ministry of Defence: published online)

[3] Slee, G 2000- Combined Operations (published online); naval-history.net (nd) Royal Navy Vessels Lost at Sea, 1939-45 – by type: Amphibious Warfare Vessels (published online), based on HMSO British Vessels Lost at Sea 1914-18 and 1939-45 (London: HMSO) known as BVLS; Navypedia (nd) LCI(S) type small infantry landing craft (LCI(S)501) (1943) (published online); Wikipedia (nd) Fairmile H landing craft (published online)

[4] Royal Navy Research Archive (nd) HMS Lizard: Combined Operations Landing Craft Base (published online)

[5] BVLS, Section III, p56

[6] Met Office 1944 Daily Weather Report February 1944, 2 February 1944 (online)

[7] Spitfires of the Sea (nd) Shoreham Survivors (published online); O’Sullivan, T 2021 ‘Tales from the Riverbank’, Beach News: the magazine of Shoreham Beach Residents’ Association, Summer 2021 issue (online)