D-DAY REMEMBERED
AMAZING TALES OF BRAVERY 70 YEARS ON FROM BATTLE
It was the day that marked the beginning of the end for Adolf Hitler and his hated Nazi regime, when tens of thousands of soldiers, sailors and airmen from across the free world descended on the coastline of Normandy in one of the greatest invasion forces the world had ever seen.
For those young, often frightened troops, there was no way to know if they would live to see another dawn, let alone the end of the Second World War, but for those who did survive, today marks another milestone in their tale, as the world commemorates the 70th anniversary of the D-Day landings.
As world leaders gather in the immaculate cemeteries of northern France, for many old soldiers, their acts of remembrance will be of a more personal nature, as they recall the friends and comrades who never came back from that fateful day.
While the invasion force which departed on the night of June 5, 1944, had been largely concentrated in the south and south-east of England, Northern Ireland also played a crucial role in the build-up to the operation, as a temporary home and training ground for thousands of American troops stationed here, as well as a significant part of the huge naval armada that transported the men and machinery across the English Channel and into the teeth of the German defenders on Hitler’s Atlantic Wall. As the world stops to remember those events, we speak to one local veteran who played his part in the invasion, as well as a local historian who has brought to life the story of that naval force that sailed from here on a journey of liberation.
I‘As soon as the Germans saw us the sky lit up like fireworks ... it was all that we could see’
Former RAF pilot Bill Eames towed a glider full of airborne troops to targets in Normandy just ahead of the D-Day landings. The sprightly 91-year-old widower and father-of-two lives in Lisburn and has seven great-grandchildren. His elder son, David, is a former Aer Lingus pilot, while his younger son, Peter, worked as an aviation operator at Aldergrove Airport. A grandson, Justin, also flies for Aer Lingus. Bill worked as a light aircraft instructor at Newtownards airfield until he retired at the age of 80. He says: was an only son — my parents didn't like me going into service but they didn't instruct me against it, at the same time.
They had a confectionery and tobacco shop in Enniskillen, but my father had been in service in the First World War, so it was a way of life for us.
I left Portora school at 17 — Samuel Beckett went before me — to enlist, and trained in Canada and South America, where the weather was good for flying. I learned how to fly light bombers and the transport aircraft used to tug the gliders into Normandy.
I was like Adrian Mole — 20 and three-quarters, and had my 21st birthday just before D-Day. I was footloose and fancy free at the time and not particularly frightened, but we did indeed realise the significance of what we were doing that day. We'd been training for it in secret for the past year. Nobody, including my parents, knew about the operation.
We flew out from Harwell, Oxford, just before midnight on June 6, 1944. I remember hav- ing a bacon and egg supper beforehand and enjoying it!
I didn't pray — religion didn't come into it. It was indeed an exciting experience; there were five of us in the crew flying out as a squadron and we knew something very big was going to happen.
We were flying in the dark to the eastern side of the front to deliver troops from the Sixth Divi- sion to the Pegasus Bridge, which they secured.
There were dozens of us tugging the gliders in — they were heavy, so it took us five hours.
It was a very unpleasant night, quite stormy for us towing these gliders.
It was an essential job to land them in the right position; if we hadn't, they would have had to do a forced landing. It became dangerous once we approached the French coast — as soon as the Germans spotted us, the sky lit up like fireworks with anti-aircraft fire. It was all I could see for a while; there were thousands of ships below us, but I couldn't see any of them.
Yes, there was always the fear of being shot down, but to think of that was too depressing. I tried to stay positive.
Was I scared? Well, I did get a bit cross with all that anti-aircraft fire trying to take me down — but they missed! We were under attack for 20 minutes or so, but no, we didn't panic.
We were delighted to get there and back in one piece, though. Landing was fine — the weather had calmed down a bit and once we caught a flash of moonlight on the canal leading into the target area, we were able to land the gliders.
Without the weight of them, we got home in half the time it took us to get there.
We were delighted to have done our bit well and to hear the good news of the victory, but the sea landings must have been dreadful. I was back in bed by the time the landings took place.
It had to be a success, no doubt about that, there was no going back. Thankfully the gliders all got back home a week after us, all intact.
I'm the only one left of the five in my group that flew out that
‘I’m very glad to be alive for this special anniversary’
night. They were from all over Britain — I stayed in touch with all of them until they died. I flew all my life but had to retire when I failed my medical at 80, due to some minor heart trouble.
I'm very glad to be alive for this big anniversary. I just enjoy life as it comes and am very glad to have done my bit for D-Day.”