Thread by @StephenMcGann

Dad's D-Day. 5th June. The bloody weather.
On this day, 75 years ago, he embarked at Southampton docks for Normandy. The docks were a mass of different shipsand craft, and one vast, swarming crowd of servicemen. /1

Unknown to him then was the fact that his uncle had departed from these same docks 32 years before, as a merchant seaman. Another journey with an interesting conclusion. The Titanic. But dad knew exactly where his own iceberg was located. /2

The weather - now a matter of history - was appalling. The invasion was meant to be the 5th - but it was impossible to land without disaster in the kind of rough seas the channel was experiencing. The troops nevertheless embarked and for a huge assembly point out of the Solent./3

Then the wait. The agonising wait in the rough seas. Dad was Royal Navy, and had served in the North Sea before commando training, so had what he called 'sea legs'. Many other brave troops didn't, and were violently sick. 'Poor buggers', he said. /4

I tried to imagine that. About to fight for your life in France, and having to endure hours of severe sickness beforehand. He told me that some were begging just to get them onto the beach, whatever happened. The fire was better than the frying pan. /5

Despite the gut-wrenching stress and the vomit-stained decks, the sight was something to behold, he said. A convoy the likes of which had never been seen. A sea full of ships. Full of terrible, brave purpose. He never forgot that. The clarity of it. And the courage. /6

After an age, the message came through. Despite the present weather, they were going the next morning. The sixth. It was on. The sea of bows turned south, to France. The faces on his ship - green or full of health - would know their fate soon enough. Into the fire they went. //