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The last exercise was to do 10 miles in full battle order in 1 hour 15 minutes, and it was pretty hilly country round there. Officers had to carry a Bren gun each and O.Rs [other ranks] rifles, in addition. Just to make it hard if any one man in a section fell out the whole section had to do it again the next day. As Officer in charge of my section I had to just about drag one of my men the last mile, but we made it. Next day on the passing out parade they told us that we had been a good course but needed a bit of "livening up" so we were marched by road to Manchester where the second part of the course took place.

The whole atmosphere at Ringway R.A.F. station was different. Instead of being treated like cattle we were looked after very well. the parachute training school was superbly organised and the instructors especially picked to "nurse" the nervous ones. We spent a week tumbling about doing backward summersaults, jumping through mock apertures and in general learning how to fall without breaking your bones. The first two jumps were done from a captive balloons at 800 feet. Five go up at a time in a basket. This has a circular hole in the floor. It is a dismal sensation sitting up there clinging on to the sides of the basket with the wind sighing through the rigging waiting for the loud speakers on the ground to give instructions. At last "Action Stations No. 1", and you swing your legs into the aperture with a last helpless look at your static line hook. After a few seconds "Go" comes over the loud speaker, and off you push, not daring to look down. The first jump is always bad as you seem to fall like a stone. However at last the canopy opens and you sit back with a terrific sigh of relief. It is a wonderful sensation floating down but you don't get much time to admire the scenery. You suddenly become conscious of the loud speakers again "Get your feet and knees together you bloody fool, Pull hard on those forward lift lines etc. etc" After the balloon jumps we went on to Whitleys then Albermarles, Strirlings, Halifaxes and Dakotas. On fine days we would do two or three jumps, and at other times we had to hang about in the airfield for days waiting for the weather to clear.

Gradually they work you up to getting a "stick" of 20 parachutists in in 20 seconds. my only injury on the whole course was a broken rib on the last jump. A French aircrew was being trained to drop us from a Stirling. Normally we should have dropped in Tatten Park, Manchester, but they dropped us all over the place, me in a tree.

On another occasion I was jumping No. 1 and the sergeant instructor was squatting just behind me. Somebody asked him a question to which he shouted "No". I thought he said "Go", so out I went although I knew from the view through the hole we were not over the D.Z. [drop zone]. The first thing I saw below me as I was coming down were miles of chimney pots. I landed in a suburb of Manchester on a pile of packing cases at the back of the factory. the factory girls took the most of my parachute as souvenirs, but the Manager dove me back to the Camp in his car.

Well the course at Ringway finished I was sent to join the 6th Airborne Division and started off in the 224 Parachute Field Ambulance, but was soon moved to the 195 air landing field ambulance, where I became second in command.

We were training hard for the next few months. I had a busy time and in February '44 was "ex-listed", that is initiated into all the secrets of the forthcoming invasion of France. The unit was a newly formed one and much had to be done landing our best transport efficiently, a medical unit with all its equipment, by glider. This had not been done before and we had to do much experimenting. As D. Day drew nearer the A.D.M.S. decided that I should go by parachute in advance to locate and prepare a suitable site for our main dressing station which was to do the lion's share of the work for the Division. The third and 5th Parachute Brigade were to go in early in the morning on D. Day and the 6th air landing brigade to which our Field Ambulance belonged was to go in by glider on the evening of D. Day bringing the heavier equipment such as anti tank guns and light tanks. 

We went off to our sealed camps at the various airfields about a fortnight before D. Day and I said goodbye to my unit. I went myself to Keevil Airfield - Devon, as I was to jump with the 12th Parachute Battalion. Everyone was in fine form and the hot weather helped to while away the days of waiting. We had a false start on June 4th emplaning for the takeoff but D. Day was postponed for 24 hours. Next night we all got ready again and this time it was the real thing. We were to take off at 10.30 p.m. and drop in Normandy at 2 a.m. on D. Day. I think everyone got a bit nervous when all 20 of us were stored like sardines in the fuselage of the Stirling and the engine started up. It was pitch dark inside and we suffered great discomfort from the heat, and smell of oil and general cramped up positions. It seemed hours before we got the "20 minutes to go then, 15, 10 and 5". It seemed almost immediately that the first man was going out through the bomb-bay. By this time the aircraft was being bumped about a good bit by flak. I was jumping No. 17 and unfortunately just as I was starting to move down the fuselage behind No. 16 the aircraft started weaving about dodging flak. A man in front fell over and by the time he had jumped valuable seconds had been lost. The Stirling flies at 160 miles p.h. slows down to 140 m.p.h. for a "stick" of jumpers to get out, but cannot maintain this slow speed without stalling or losing too much altitude for more than 20 seconds. As our jumps were to be made at only 500 feet I was getting anxious. The Pilot revved up the engines just as my turn came and I got a blast like a kick from a horse as I went out.

I remember distinctly my first impressions when I was at last floating freely in the air. The first was the beautiful cool hay scented air and the other was the detached way I seemed to view the fireworks display below with the red trace of flak coming slowly up like a ball, then swishing past at a tremendous pace. I made a nice landing in some grass in a an apple orchard. there was a lot of running about on a nearby road and shouts of "Achtung Paratruppen" etc. I had apparently not been seen or heard so collected up my equipment and made off into a wood to get my bearings. I was shot at while nipping across an open space so let go a blast from my Tommy gun then ran like hell. When I got into the wood I scratched my head over the compass and map, but could not see a landmark. I had to sit down and wait till 3.30 a.m. when the first light appeared. I then climbed a tree and saw the Colobelles Steel Mills, at Caen a few miles away. I could here a scrap going on in the general direction of where I thought the D.Z. was. So made for it. After much dodging about, for there seemed to be Germans everywhere, I met up with some 12th Para men near Ranville where I was supposed to look for our M.D.S. site. However the enemy were soon cleared out.

I was fortunate enough to get hold of a German 3 ton lorry with a full tank of petrol here and also found the ideal site for our M.D.S [Medical Dressing Station] in the village of Ranville. It was a large 3 storied manor house of very strong construction which we had picked as choice No. 1 from aerial photographs previously. I also located a German stores dump and found 1000 new army blankets done up conveniently in bundles of 10. With the help of the lorry and some German prisoners I soon had these at the M.D.S and the building cleared out of furniture and junk. I even got the theatre floor scrubbed.