War veteran Les Calladine remembers the fallen, the fight and the end of the Second World War. As part of the 70th anniversary of D-Day, the Chaddesden pensioner shares his wartime story.
THERE'S nothing Les Calladine can not tell you about the D-Day landings in 1944.
The 89-year-old Royal Navy veteran was there and his memories are as clear as day.
"It was 70 years ago," says Les of Trenton Drive, Chaddesden. "But days like that don't leave you.
"The battle was big. I remember everything about it. It was my job to guide the big ships to the beaches of Normandy. I was in a little cruiser with just 11 of us onboard. We were leading the big boys and getting them as close to land as possible.
"The last thing we wanted was for them to hit the bottom of the sea. When they couldn't get any nearer, we ordered them to drop anchor.
"Soldiers piled off the boats and made their way to the beach. Many of them didn't even make it to land.
"They were killed in the water. I don't like to talk about it but one memory – above all the others – has stayed with me forever.
"And that was the sight of all the dead and dying soldiers floating past me as I sat aboard my boat.
"I couldn't save them. I couldn't pull them onboard. But behind us, crew from the floating hospitals were pulling them out.
"Our little boat, a cruiser called Ajax, was nestling under the bow of a bigger boat. We were trying to shelter from the gunfire."
Les's recount of D-Day is astounding. His attention to detail is remarkable. He was just 19 years old when he joined thousands of Allied troops at Normandy. Now he's an old man – fighting to keep fit and well.
"My short-term memory is rubbish," he says. "So tomorrow, I'll probably forget you ever visited me to get this interview but ask me anything about back then and I can do it. I have often wondered why I can still remember so much from something that happened 70 years ago and I think I must have had a photographic memory in my youth."
Les joined the Royal Navy when he 17. He was walking past the Army careers office, which was based in the Market Place back then, and walked in. He was with his best friend, Danny, and the pair joined up.
"I should have thought about my poor mother," says Les, who has six children, 14 grandchildren, 17 great grandchildren and eight great-great grandchildren
"She had already lost a son in 1942. He was in the Tank Regiment and died fighting for his country. I was young and carefree.
"I didn't know what I was going to do with my life, so when I walked into the office, I just signed on the dotted line. After that, my application was accepted and I was sent for training.
"I wanted to be a normal seaman but my aptitude test meant I was picked to become a wireless operator. I was going to be sent to London to study Morse Code. On board ships, there were always two of us. One took down the message. He received it and the other chap decoded it and put the Morse Code into English.
"It was an interesting job and, of course, we got the news first.
"The first ship I ever boarded was HMS Flint Castle. I was on convoy duty escorting merchant vessels to Newfoundland, in Canada. We went back and forth. We were there to protect the ships from the subs."
Les remembers with clarity the day he was briefed about the Normandy landings. He was told the mission would be on June 5. Troops would start landing on the beaches of Normandy in northern France.
He recalls: "It would be one of the biggest – if not the biggest – offensive again the Germans. Then the weather got bad and the whole mission was cancelled.
"Because we'd been briefed already, we were guarded by armed forces. There was no way the Government wanted the news to leak.
"The following day, we set off. We guided the boats along the coast and got them as close to the beaches as we could. They were sitting ducks. They faced a barrage of bullets. The soldiers didn't have a chance. Many lads were injured and drowned because their back packs were so heavy. They were in great danger. We all were.
"We bobbed on the sea for a while. Then we were ordered to take cover under a bow of a boat. Sheltering from the gun fire, I'm not sure what was running through my mind.
"By this time, bodies were floating by. It was an horrific sight and one which I will never, ever forget. Once our job was done and our mission was complete, we made our way out. We sailed back to Southampton and joined HMS Flint Castle.
"I prayed that the shells would miss us when we were on the little cruiser boat but, at the time, I don't think I had chance to think about what was going on around me.
"The invasion was horrific. So many young men died that day. I will never forget what I saw."
Les has been back to Normandy. One of his daughters, Lisa, and her husband, Paul, took him to revisit the former battlegrounds.
"It was emotional," he says. "The quiet fishing village is quite a tourist spot now and I do think that's a shame. Parts of it are like Blackpool, filled with shops selling trinkets, but I didn't visit them.
"Lisa and I went to see a couple of the museums and I was presented with two medals. It was quite overwhelming. She had a word with the curates at the museums and they both raced off to get me the medals. I felt very proud.
"We visited some of the beaches and many of them are still littered with wartime stuff, like dug-outs."
Les has purposely held back the best part of his story. An hour into talking to me, he starts to mention the moment when he discovered that the war was over.
"I took the message from Winston Churchill," he says proudly. After D-Day, he had resumed his role on convoy duty. It was in this role, almost a year later and a few miles before he reached Newfoundland, that the message came in on the wireless.
Les says: "It was Winston Churchill. He said that the surrender had been signed and we were ordered to make our return to Southampton. I remember shouting up the pipe to the skipper and immediately an officer came down to me.
"'The war is over!' I shouted. Germany had been ordered to surrender. I was a popular crew member that night. The captain ordered 'slice the mainbrace'. It's an order given aboard naval vessels to issue the crew with a drink. We all had a lot of rum that day, I can tell you.
"The news from Winston Churchill was wonderful, and the next thing that happened was equally amazing.
"We turned the boat round and headed back to Southampton. When we got there we piled it high with food and set sail for Rotterdam. All the bread and sugar and stuff we gave away. Locals were informed we were coming and they lined up to receive some extra food.
"The people of Holland were literally starving. They all queued up hoping for a loaf of bread.
"After that, we returned back and restocked. Then we went to other European countries like Norway. I felt like a million dollars."
Les wrote to his mum during his time at sea but the letter took ages to arrive. When the boat docked, mail would be delivered onboard and letters written by crew would be dispatched for posting.
"I tried to keep in touch," he says. "I'm sure my poor mum was worried sick. She'd already lost another son to the war."
After serving in the Royal Navy for five years, Les was given the chance to leave. He took it.
"I didn't know what I was going to do," he says. "For a while I just messed around in jobs and moved to one thing and then another.
"It was when my brother came to me and said I should settle down that I really took notice. He worked at Rolls-Royce and suggested I should work there.
"He said he would try and get me an interview and he did just that. I worked at Royce's for 38 years and retired a happy man.
"I often think of my best friend, Danny, especially when there are celebrations like the 70th anniversary. He is long gone now. Dead and buried. But I'll never forget him. He tried to steal my girlfriend, who later became my wife, but he was still my best friend.
"Television footage of the D-Day landings are always too difficult for me to watch. I have seen some clips over the years but I don't really want to remember it all now. I have read a few books. A mate lends me them but that's it.
"This weekend, I will remember the soldiers who lost their lives, but I will remember them quietly and in my own way."
