As part of the events this year (04) to commemorate the sixtieth anniversary of D-Day, the Royal Navy and Portsmouth City Council organised a symbolic fleet to sail for Normandy on the fifth of June.

Vessels participating were the large ferry ship, "Normandy" carrying D-Day veterans, warships from the UK, Canada, USA, and France, and a number of historic vessels which had seen war service.

Included was the 1913 built Lowestoft sailing trawler, "Keewaydin", LT1192, which I sail on from time to time. War service saw her as an armed trawler in the North Sea during the First World War, and carrying refugees and commandos in Scandinavian waters during the Second World War.

She was built as late as 1913, when steam had already been well established in the east coast fishing fleet for many years. Nevertheless, the sailing trawlers did not go to sea without some steam plant.

The crew usually consisted of 3 men + 1 boy, when sail only the crew was 4 men + 1boy and so some mechanical help was needed was needed, particularly in hauling in the catch, which could be up to a ton, and hauling the main sheets.

Situated below decks, just aft of the mainmast was a small boiler which supplied steam to operate a winch. Initially a steam engine was adjacent to the boiler, the power being transmitted via shafting and gears. It was, however, found that it was far more efficient to pipe the steam to self powered winches. An early photograph shows Keewaydin leaving harbour with steam being exhausted from her starboard side just forward of the main mast. This illustrating the winch being used to haul the main sheets.

The week prior to the symbolic fleet crossing to Normandy we had sailed the trawler up from Brixham and, during a stop over at Yarmouth, Isle of Wight, had the pleasure of going over an historic admiralty steam pinnace, which will be looked at in the next ‘195’.

The D-Day Symbolic Fleet consisted of the following vessels:

Capital ships

HMS Gloucester
MV Normandie
FS Cassard
USS Ross
HMCS Charlottetown
RFA Wave Knight

Landing Craft and Historic Boats:

2 x Royal Marine Landing Craft Uti1ity (LCU ), HMS Medusa (ML 1387), ZETA(ST377), TRUST(MTB102), MGB 81, HSL102, RAF 206, Steamship Challange,
Keewaydin

As you will appreciate, all the historic vessels have a fascinating story to tell of their wartime exploits.

For steam aficionados, however, the steam tug "Challenge" is of particular interest. She had been engaged in towing Mulberry Harbour sections to Normandy. Alas, time precluded a visit to her but we did sail from Portsmouth abeam of her. I am not sure that her vigorously blowing-off as we passed the saluting base was part of the script.

I hope she will also appear in a future edition of ‘195’.

A briefing for the skippers participating was held on MEDUSA in the afternoon of the 4th. This boat had played a key role on D-Day.

Next morning, as we sailed from the old Camber dock down to the assembly area, we passed the USS Ross just as the Stars and Stripes was being hoisted. The reverence in which Old Glory is held was very clear as we observed the formal ceremony.

The capital ships processed in line ahead out of Portsmouth, past the saluting base, the historic vessels and RM landing craft following in pairs.

Once the fleet was out into the Solent the RAF Battle of Britain flight arrived and put on one of the most exciting displays I have ever seen. Being over the sea the aircraft were not constrained by a display flight line. It was quite an experience to have a Spitfire fly directly at you at low level.

The last time anything like that happened was long long ago when at primary school the German flew up the avenue firing his guns and we all jumped behind Mrs Townsend's front garden wall. Quite what he was hoping to achieve I don't know. Maybe me and my two little chums were a serious threat to the Third Reich.

The capital ships set course for France, so did we, at considerably less speed. The other historic vessels returned to Portsmouth for a while then too crossed the Channel. Our crossing took about twenty hours in light airs.

Originally, we had planned to sail to Ouistreham but mid-channel changed our minds and decided that as the 'big do' was at Arromanch we'd divert there. In the middle of the night the French Navy thought otherwise, so we had to revert to the original destination.

There were two particular memories of the crossing. That night, after darkness had fallen, we witnessed, far in the distance, the fire work display along the Normandy coast. It extended the full width of the invasion front. The fascinating thing was that it was totally synchronised, every type of firework and colour going off simultaneously.

However, the most poignant and deeply impressive moment occurred in that period of half light that precedes the dawn. We were quietly closing the French coast when two wreathes gently floated by only a few yards off our starboard side.

These had been dropped on the sea from the veterans' ship the day before. It was a moment of barely suppressed emotion thinking of what those two lonely wreathes represented, particularly of all the young men who never made the return journey across the Channel. It was far more poignant than the laying of the wreathes at the Cenotaph on Armistice Day

We watched in total silence until they became specks in the distance, just keeping each others company as two comrades in adversity would have done. For several minutes we both found it difficult to speak.

I tried to picture those waters at the same time sixty years ago when they were dense with transports and warships – the greatest invasion fleet ever known and on a personal level, the thoughts of the soldiers who were about to go into action. The mind struggles with this. With the passage of time what was reality becomes unreal. Those wreathes were a stark reminder in the simplest but most potent way that that most momentous day really did happen.

There had been a similar situation the year before when attending a radar course at HMS Dryad. This shore establishment is at Southwick House in Hampshire, and was General Eisenhower’s D-Day headquarters. What is now the lounge of the mess where we took lunch had once been the operations room and the invasion map covering the whole wall is still there.

It was nigh impossible, in today’s surroundings there, to imagine that crowded and hectic room the day prior to D-Day, when the most senior officers had to weigh the weather prospects and take the decision to launch the invasion.

Apart from the helmsman only one other person was on deck. For him the wreathes had a very personal significance, for his father had been on the battleship HMS Warspite on D-Day bombarding German positions.

Before service on Warspite my friend's father had been a beachmaster at Dunkirk - quite literally getting away at the last minute under the noses, or pointed rifles, of two German soldiers. It meant swimming for it before he and his comrade found a small boat. Later, he was aboard HMS Ajax at the battle of the River Plate.

A twist of circumstance in our crew is of interest.

The grandfather of another crew member, of German descent, had been a senior officer in the Imperial German navy, in command of their China station. Under his command was a young officer by the name of Langsdorf who became captain of the Graf Spee.

Later in the morning, D-Day + 60 years, we arrived at Ouistreham and were locked through into the Orne (Caen) canal.

In beautiful weather we walked the few miles to Pegasus bridge where we had a beer from the famous cafe. There were many red bereted veteran paratroopers there, reminiscing and joking. We enjoyed interesting conversation with some of them, and I was delighted to meet a D-Day signaller. Always good to meet someone from one's old corps.

There was quite a number of today's Parachute Regiment present, their youth that of the veterans all those years ago.

In towns and villages throughout Normandy there was a great display of gratitude of the people for their deliverance from the enemy.

Our passage back to Brixham was via Arromanche, where we sailed round the Mulberry Harbour remains, and a call at Alderney.

Keith Rogers