Les Fusiliers
de Dieppe

[...] The 4th and 5th Flotillas were to transport the "floating reserve" (French Canadian soldiers, the Fusiliers Mont Royal) across the Channel. They were then to be landed on whichever beach the Army commander, Major-General J H Roberts, selected, taking account of the progress of the operation. Each Flotilla would be reinforced with two extra LCPs - one to carry troops, one as a spare boat in case any troop-laden boat broke down on the way across. Having landed the Canadians, we were to lie off the beach and in due course go in and pick them up again. Immediately after the briefing we had an early supper in the College dining room and then went out to the parade ground where the Fusiliers Mont Royal were drawn up in precise military lines. We - the officers of the 4th and 5th Flotillas - stood in a row behind a wooden platform on to which stepped the FMR's Commanding Dfficer, Lt-Col D Menard.

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Surveying his men he announced, dramatically something like, "Ce soir nous allons a France." The effect was astonishing. The soldiers broke ranks, shouting and cheering, and surged round their CO who was still standing on the dais. Soon he stepped down, to be replaced by the Fusiliers' Roman Catholic padre. He held up his hands, the hubbub subsided and all the soldiers knelt down on the parade ground for the padre's blessing. This remarkable sight left the naval officers distinctly nonplussed. We shifted our feet uneasily, looked at each other questioningly and took a mutual and silent decision to remain standing, but with bowed heads.

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It was time to get to the boats at Shoreham which our crews - at this moment ignorant of what was actually about to happen - were preparing for a two or three day exercise. We set off well before the Fusiliers, who would take some time to pack themselves into their transport.

Digressing for an instant, for obvious security reasons Lancing College was sealed for 24 hours - i.e. no one there was allowed out and no phone calls were permitted until after the raid was over.

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The Canadians [Fusiliers Mont-Royal] arrived and some 25, including an officer, packed into each of the 26 boats. Conditions for the soldiers were dreadful. If you look at the photograph of an LCP you will see a canvas canopy covering the cockpit (cox'n's position) and the engine space. Between the cox'n and the engine space was a plank "bridge" on which the boat officer stood. Astern of the bridge, down both sides of the engine space, was a wooden platform raised a few inches above the bottom boards. The soldiers sat on these platforms, resting their backs against the hull of the boat. Their rifles and other equipment had to be placed on the bottom boards, between their feet. It has to be appreciated that in the middle of the boat stood this very large 250 hp engine. So when the soldiers had settled down and distributed their kit at their feet there was virtually no room for anyone to walk past them and the engine.

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The men themselves had no option but to stay in their cramped position: there was nowhere for them to stretch their legs. Add to this the noise and smell of the throbbing engine and you have the picture of a miniature hell. Worst of all, the soldiers were not allowed to smoke - a great deprivation in such a situation in those days. In a calm sea we would tie up the sides of the canvas canopy above them to let in light and air. But in even a moderate sea this could not be done because of spray soaking the soldiers as they sat. Remember, too, that our only sanitary facility was a bucket. So the normal calls of nature became an ordeal for the troops - and if the sea was rough, our passengers would be sick almost to a man, creating conditions which I can describe only as indescribable.

So the Fusiliers settled down to what was to be a period of nearly eleven hours in their cramped, dark and noisy positions.

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As Group 7 in the operational plan, the 4th and 5th Flotillas sailed from Shoreham at 8.40 p m - 26 boats (in four columns) carrying troops, plus two spare boats. Lieut-Cdr Dathan took passage in ML (motor launch) 214, which led the procession. ML 230 brought up the rear.

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The weather was superb - a real bonus, especially for the soldiers. It was warm, there was hardly any wind and the sea was glassily smooth. I particularly remember the phosphorescent effect our movement through the water produced. Tense though we were, our steady and disciplined progress through the night was almost soothing. The troops slept as best they could: Brown and Radley exchanged cox'n duties and got a little sleep, as did Robb. There was no question of getting my head down, of course, but that didn't matter; I was in overdrive, the weather could not have been better and it was all very exciting.

Occasionally the platoon commander, a Lieutenant, would join me on the bridge, partly to escape from the foetid atmosphere below, partly for a chat. It was during one of these sessions that he pressed on me a letter, addressed to his parents, for me to pass on if he should be killed.

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If you have the impression that  [L.C.P.] 192's passage to Dieppe was completely uneventful, this was not the case. Round about midnight, I suppose. Robb appeared with the disturbing news that the engine was overheating and that it would have to be switched off to enable him to fix it. And he couldn't guarantee that he would succeed; this would depend on the nature of the defect. Dathan's orders were that if a boat broke down there was to be no messing about. A spare LCP should be signalled to come alongside so that the soldiers could be transferred to it immediately. The broken down boat would then fend for itself or perhaps be taken in tow by ML230.

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So I was in a highly embarrassing situation. To have a convenient mechanical defect, to transfer the troops to another boat and so miss the operation - what construction might the rest of the Flotilla put on all this?

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But the engine had to be stopped and I was obliged to summon our spare LCP. When it came alongside we lashed the two boats together. Both craft kept going under the spare boat's power and 192's engine was switched off. The officer commanding the spare boat assumed that we would immediately transfer the troops: but I persuaded him that as we expected to get the engine working again quite soon it was pointless to go through the awful confusion of moving 25 soldiers and their gear out of my boat and into his in the middle of the night and in the middle of the Channel.

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I was gratified to find that my cox'n, Brown, was with me all the way. He happened to be having a break from the wheel: overhearing the conversation with my opposite number in the spare boat he leaned across the plank bridge and said emphatically to Robb: "I'll ------ fill you in if you don't get that engine going." Now I doubt if Robb was in the least motivated by this threat - he was perfectly capable of standing up to Brown. But within five minutes he had solved the problem - a blocked cooling water intake - and we were in business again. A somewhat frustrated spare boat cast off and dropped astern. Without wanting to make too much of the incident, if I may say so, the incident demonstrated the excellent spirit of my crew. Robb, for instance, could easily have taken us out of the operation by claiming that we had an irrepairable defect, for I certainly didn't have the know-how to challenge him. But he shared Brown's determination that we should not opt out.

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Our group crossed the Channel at around 9.5 knots and arrived four miles or so off Dieppe at 4.45 am. [...] As for the 4th and 5th Flotillas, with ML214 still leading us, we waited for orders three miles or so off Red and White beaches.