D-Day 80 on HMS Belfast

 6th June 2024 - 80th Anniversary of D-Day

Did you know that HMS Belfast was involved with the D-Day landings off the Normandy Coast? The Town-class light cruiser was one of the first ships to open fire as early as 05:27am on 6th June 1944. 

It had been quite a long time since I supported some conservation-based family activities on board the Belfast and met up with the volunteer leader to learn about the visitor experience side of volunteering 2 weeks prior. 2024 was a big year for Queen B (as I affectionately call her - not to be confused with Beyonce), because it marks the 80th anniversary of the D-Day Landings. I was kindly invited to the gun salute to commemorate the historic event and the ship's involvement. 

As a 'homecoming' volunteer, I fantasised me and Frankenstein (the ship’s cat) being 'piped aboard' (where the boatswain or an officer will blow 'pipes' on a call when a VIP visits a ship - a call is like a whistle or flute used to give signals or orders which are 'pipes'). 

For Belfast's crew, their D-Day story began in early May 1944; the ship was having a refit at Rosyth Dockyard in Scotland to recover from damage caused by the Arctic Convoy's weather conditions and to have updated equipment installed as well as men taking some much-needed leave and talk of 'The Second Front' - implying a dramatic operation was imminent whilst keeping the location and timing of Operation Overlord a secret. 

Ordinary Seaman Leslie Coleman recalls the departure from Rosyth - "We still weren't told officially that D-Day was starting, [but] we left and all the dockyard maties standing on the quayside cheering away, the all knew!" 

Some new hands had joined aboard HMS Belfast while she was refitted under the command of Captain Frederick Parham and his Executive Officer, Commander Philip Welby-Everard as a chance to provide training for the new hands as well as install more advanced equipment, as ASDIC (sonar) rating Bob Shrimpton recalled it was to 'get rid of square pegs in round holes' and for the newcomers to begin their training using the old equipment whilst sailing to Scapa Flow. 

Shrimpton and his shipmates only saw this as 'little memories slotted together', whereas most of the men saw it as an unnecessary waste of time known as Navy Bull, although Ron Jesse acknowledged it was important for the upcoming combat mission off the beaches of Normandy rather than a long-range gun battle like at North Cape where Belfast finished off Scharnhorst. 

Ron Jesse practised his drills in the engine room by carrying out the normal routine but in darkness or by torchlight to simulate the effects of serious damage to the ship, as well as the discomfort of wearing anti-flash gear consisting of a cloth hood and elbow-length gauntlets (long-sleeved gloves) which was made with traces of asbestos. 

The crew were also expected to wear gas masks as part of their training with the potential threat of gas attacks or even chemical weapons which Jesse thought was pointless. 'Heaven knows why we were made to carry gas masks around the whole time, chances of us having to to endure a gas attack vanishingly remote I should have thought, but nevertheless we did.' Sailors carrying gas masks had little canvas satchels so they could have them on hand all day, which was also ideal for 'action stations'; each sailor would have a ration of a packet of biscuits, a bottle of rum containing what is likely to be their daily allowance from the 'tot' and a pack of cigarettes, including a waterproof lighter. 

Once the ship returned to Scapa Flow, Admiral Robert Burnett was relieved by Vice Admiral Frederick Dalrymple-Hamilton, as well as one more important duty before rolling down to Normandy, a visit from His Majesty King George VI. Signalman Lance Tyler recalls: "King George VI came up to visit Scapa and he... inspected the ship's company. I shall never forget...we were given three days notice, and he had to go from the Admiral's bridge down to the Admiral's day cabin for a meal, lunchtime. And the only way to do it was to was to have every spare hand painting all the corridors and gangways right down to so he would have a nice looking place to go to". Of course, you would want the place looking spic and span for a visit from a VIP. 

King George VI returned to the mainland aboard Belfast escorted by nine destroyers, whereby Lance Tyler had a very exciting the honourable task of of personally handing a Royal Standard (the flag of The Sovereign); 'I literally pulled it up as he came on board'. The visit was a clear success for Captain Parham as the King thanked Belfast's crew for their hospitality, as well as the Admiral's quarters being the temporary Royal Quarters. He remembers the King having a very shy personality and handing him a signed photograph of himself and asked "I wondered whether you would like this?". 

On 30th May, Belfast was ordered south from Scapa Flow to the River Clyde where it became certain to the crew that something dramatic is bound to happen, which was obviously not treacherous Arctic Convoys. Bob Shrimpton recalls some obvious signs; 'We saw all these landing craft everywhere [and] we all said "what are those?" cos we'd never seen one before... The Petty Officer said "they look like landing craft to me" and [we said] "Where are they going?"... "Wouldn't know, probably Italy or something."' Shrimpton also noticed the stockpiling of provisions and supplies, which he knew could be telling of a huge naval operation; 'taking on large amounts of ammunition, fuel, stores and medical supplies.' 

Whilst stocking up on supplies on the Clyde, Admiral Dalrymple-Hamilton invited commanding officers from other ships for dinner, as Ulster's Commander William Donald remembers: "It was a very memorable evening... With a dozen or more of us around his table, we discussed every topic under the sun from China to Peru... there was a pulse-quickening atmosphere of 'the eve of the battle'". 

Captain Parham nor Admiral Dalrymple-Hamilton were aware that yet another visiting VIP was pushing for a front-row seat to the upcoming drama of the Second Front; prime minister Winston Churchill had summoned the head of the Royal Navy, the First Sea Lord of the Admiralty A.V. Alexander and its operational chief, the First Sea Lord, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Admiral Andrew Cunningham to persuade them to take him to sea to watch the Normandy invasion on board HMS Belfast. The two naval officer's were just about to agree, until King George VI, (remembering Parham's kindness and considering he was a naval officer himself) claimed it would not be a wise decision to have Belfast carry a person of high importance on the first, most riskiest day of the operation. Churchill then changed his mind after learning the King would have to go with him to represent all three armed forces. 

Tension continually rose throughout the ship; Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve Lieutenant Peter Brooke and former schoolteacher was in command of one of Belfast's 4-inch secondary armaments where he published in his diary, 'We landed our spare boats (Admiral's barge, 3rd motor boat and pinnace) to save top weight and lessen fire risk." This shows the suspense level of tension (if you have studied drama you'll know what I mean) on board with the crew learning about Belfast's next major role, if not her fate. 

Midshipman Charles Bunbury was completing his final element of his training in instruction at sea as a junior officer, where he had to keep a journal (now in Imperial War Museum's Department of Documents), which has an insightful record of the Normandy fighting. Belfast's log, she was held for 2 hours notice for steam whilst Midshipman Bunbury was attending a lecture from the ship's Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant-Commander Rex Mountifield, early evening on 2nd June, five cruisers and veteran battleships Warspite and Ramillies weighed anchor and slipped away. These ships were to make up the Eastern Naval Task Force. Ron Jesse remembers high level of excitement whilst the flotilla proceeded majestically down the Clyde flying their flags and bands playing music. Belfast then began her procession; at 11:00 hours on 3rd June, the cruiser weighed anchor.

There was a brief practice of a 4-inch gun drill in her secondary armarment, she began her voyage over the Irish Sea down south to the Channel. Bunbury recorded the weather being thick mist and heavy drizzle, as the band were playing on the quarterdeck. No formal announcement was yet made. 

The crew kept noticing how flotillas were slowly increasing when passing every port along the way which as well as other naval vessels, included landing craft tanks (LCT's), landing ship tanks (LST's) and Rhino Ferries. Midshipman Bunbury recalls the horrific conditions that those poor souls in the landing vessels would have been experiencing, which were not designed for heavy weather: 'In the afternoon we passed several large convoys of of LST's, LCT's and Rhinos... they [Rhinos] looked like rafts made up of many watertight compatments like petrol tins... they all carried vehicles and med and some had tents pitched on them. They must have been extremely uncomfortable, knowing that at any time... they might capsize'. To be on a landing craft must be absolutely appalling! 

Did you know?

D-Day was originally planned to be on the 5th June, but due to bad weather, it was postponed to th 6th June. 

Finally Captain Parham and Admiral Dalrymple-Hamilton received the signal that Stagg had told Eisenhower there will be better weather and the invasion was to take place on 6th June, where they thought it was about time to tell all hands to prepare for 'action stations'; although Parham liked to address the crew with kindness and empathy, he had to take up his authority. 'I spoke to them over the loudspeaker and told them exactly what we were going to do.' 

Bob Shrimpton remember the humorous side of the announcement: 'We were sitting in the mess desk and the tannoy came on and it was the Captain speaking and he said "we are now going to embark on the invasion of the beaches at Normandy". And there was this dead silence and then the padre came on and he said a few words and had a prayer and switched itself off and everybody thought 'well this is it'. And then this old Leading Seaman in the opposite mess, he said "well it's about time we had a cup of tea then, looks like we might not get another one." And that was when we first heard about the landing at Normandy.' 

All hands were listening all over the ship, in passageways and mess decks, workshops, shell rooms and magazines, from the lofty heights of the bridge down to the boiler rooms, sailors gathered around the nearest loudspeaker. As Belfast rounded Land's End into the Channel, Captain Parham ordered his men to second-degree readiness (level below action stations, meaning to prepare). Nearing the great naval base at Portsmouth, the invasion fleet increased in size that it really amazed the sailors. After a quick shower, Joseph Stagno snuck up onto the well deck by the by the redundant aircraft catapult where he could see the huge flotilla of landing craft: "Once we got round Land's End I've never seen such an armada in all my life! ... Eventually we went up through the coast, Portsmouth, and all those ships coming out, hundreds of them, hundreds..." 

Captain Parham was busy trying to navigate through hundreds of little invasion craft and thoughtfully considered the situation of the occupants; 'Thank heaven there was a full moon,because I think we were almost continuously ... dodging these landing craft, and if there hadn't been a full moon I dread to think how many of them we would have sunk.' Leading the flotillas with minesweepers behind, was HMS Belfast heading to Juno beach, where she would also be supporting the Canadians. 

After Admiral Dalrympe-Hamilton sent a signal to the ships under his command, reciting lines from Shakespeare and verses from the Bible, he finished with his final words: "Best of luck to you all. Keep a good length and your eye on the middle stump, and we shall soon have the enemy all out." 

In the early hours of the morning of 6th June, Belfast went into action stations at 4am (according to Peter Brooke). As planned for Operation Neptune, Belfast had an allocated spot 5-6 miles offshore, off the resort towns of Ver-sur-Mer abd Ouistreham, maked by a Dan Buoy (a buoy with a signal flag on top). At 5am, Captain Parham brought his ship into position, ready to open fire. 

HMS Belfast was known to fire the first shots on D-Day at 5:27am - as believed by veteran Lance Tyler: 

'We literally opened up the very first salvo on HMS Belfast at about twenty past five in the morning and I've never seen so many ships, landing craft, corvettes, frigates you name it, and I don't suppose anyone will ever see the like of it ever again.' 

This unfortunately did not seem to be the case, other ships had carefully planned their targets though intelligence work, a 700-page book of orders for each individual ship and plots on charts and maps as part of that said book. Captain Parham and Gunnery Officer, Lieutenant-Commander Rex Mountifield struggled to identify the first target, a German battery near the French village of La Marefontaine. If Parham and Mountifield made the wrong decision, they would have put the vulnerable assault troops at risk by leaving the ex-Czech 100mm howitzers from Artillerie-Regiment 1716 unharmed; the consequences would have been an extreme disaster. 

In fact, it has been misreported HMS Belfast's guns were not exactly the first to fire shells, it was noted by Lt. Brooke another cruiser to the west (likely to be HMS Orion as noted by Brooke in the log) began to open fire at 05:23am. Belfast's log has 05:27 recorded when she opened fire. 

As the largest ship of Bombardment Group E (as well as the leading flagship), HMS Belfast has a fully-equipped sick bay (as you may have seen if you have visited) staffed by surgeons. She also served a medical unit during the D-Day landings and took in casualties from 1pm on 6th June. Lance Tyler remembers Captain Parham sending him down to the sick bay to find there had been a casualty with very serious injuries. 

Bed in HMS Belfast's sick bay - pillow reads: 'Captain Parham sent me down to sick bay on D-Day itself because he knew that an Army Corporal had been badly blown up and they were trying to save this man's life... Parham had enough time to spare to think about other people.' - Lance Tyler, Signalman. 

Although Parham was a top authority figure, it sounds like he had such a caring heart, as well as being a very well-respected officer. This performance by an acting student from Anglia Ruskin University is so beautifully moving, as well as giving insight into Belfast's time in Normandy. The monologue is a verbatim performance inspired by a transcribed oral interview with Frederick Parham himself. 

( ⚠TRIGGER WARNING⚠: the following paragraphs have themes of traumatic injuries and death):

 Belfast took casualties from other countries aboard for medical treatment; including Canadian troops as she was stationed off Juno Beach (Canada's D-Day beach), as well as being between Gold and Sword Beaches where the British were based. Some poor soldiers sadly didn't survive; the lives of those who has been dreadfully mangled could not always be saved. A heartbreaking note in the logbook records: '22:15 Gunner Mayo died on board' - Rifleman Cyril Mayo of the Royal Winnipeg Rifles, a Canadian solider from Selkirk, Manitoba. 

Two hours later, just after midnight, another badly wounded soldier died on board, Private Kenneth Young of the Hampshire Regiment - recorded by Commonwealth War Graves Commission as the 20-year-old son of Victor and Marjorie Young of Gosport, Hampshire. 

For the men of Belfast, death in action was no longer a mystery; Canadian seaman Bert Brown remembers the devastating end to the story: 'I remember seeing a Bosun stitching a body up in canvas'. 

Larry Fursland witnessed a critically wounded solider, an unidentified soldier from the Royal Artillery who apparently died later on: 'I remember one... I was going on watch and he had Royal Artillery on him. He made the V-sign ✌. They took his legs away... and the Master-at-Arms ditched them over the side in canvas'. He was so upset he went to an officer to claim it was 'bloody disgusting'. 

Inside the gun turrets: 

In the gun turrets, 20-year-old Ordinary Seaman Gordon "Putty" Painter was a Gun Layer in the B Turret (the second of the the two forward facing triple 6-inch gun turrets); he had no exact idea what he was supposed to be firing at. The ship had a central fire-control system, whereby what Painter's turret fired at was commanded by the Gunnery Officer, up in the Director Control Tower, where the sighting instruments were located. Brookes gunnery team used the ship's range-finding equipment to measure elevation (what height the guns were aimed at) and bearing to the target (which direction to aim the guns). The information was sent to the Transmitting Station, where another team would used a mechanical computer (called an Admiralty Fire Control Table) the calculate the aiming position. 

The information is then sent to the turrets, where the gunlayers - like Gordon Painter - adjusted the elevation to match the information sent. A Turret Layer carries out the same process for the bearing. Once the guns were in position, the Captain of the Turret reported it promptly and the guns were fired. It worked in a choreographed sequence like the rhythm of a slow-ticking clock (if you remember the Gun Turret Experience in Y Turret if you have visited the ship).

'The gunlayers job and the gun trainer's job are quite important because you govern the movement of the guns themselves... The instructions would come down from the bridge and their instructions would move a point on my dials which I had to follow and if you didn't follow it and you start to fire the guns then you're in trouble because the shells are going to fall short or... too far right or too far left... One had to... be alert and keep up with it... we had quite a small periscope in the roof of the turret but basically... that's the only view of the outside that you would have.' - Gordon Painter. 

Gun Loading Sequence:

Gun back... breach open... shell in... ram off... cordite in... breach closed... gun aim... FIRE... (repeat)

Before Painter was locked down into his turret, he managed to get a glimpse of all the other ships and watercraft setting the scene for an extraordinary event he will be playing his part in. 

Once the ship had gone into action stations, Painter was confined to his turret, programmed into his repetitive but vital routines like a piece of ship's equipment and the sensory assault of constant noise, with little to no awareness to what's going on outside. 

'It was quite noisy of course! We were firing broadsides, which means that all the guns were firing together -the whole lot. You get ... 12 6-inch guns firing, it rocks the ship backwards and forward and this continually going on. I think we did have ... something to put in your ears, if you didn't you'd soon go deaf...' - Gordon Painter. This sounds like the ultimate sensory nightmare; loud noises, violent movement, intense vibrations as well as not knowing if this will be your fate. 

Unfortunately, not everyone was prepared, Leslie Coleman was a cordite handler in one of the 6-inch turrets - cordite is a special form of gunpowder that triggers a serious explosion. His task, also being repetitive yet vital, was to operate the cordite pedal: 'You have a pedal... for the cordite come up and when you push your foot down one comes up in a case.' He was making his way to action stations when the gunfire began even though announcements had been made, he did not hear them. 'I think about 5 o'clock on D-Day, June 6th, all of a sudden I was on the upper deck and "crash bang wallop"...' Another example of how that would have been sensory hell. 

As Captain Parham states in his oral interview (the inspiration behind the verbatim monologue), Belfast was stationed off the coast of Normandy for a further 5 weeks on patrol. Parham listened in on the German wireless and heard where the British Royal Navy had been; it was very lucky that Belfast had moved because if she hadn't, it would've been a tragic ending. 

 

There is more to HMSB's D-Day story but I am going to end it here. I need to reassure myself that I don't need to infodump too much and this is not an exam nor important piece of coursework. 

Back to the gun salute experience 80 years on: Although the volunteer team leader recommended watching the gun salute from ashore (from London Bridge or from Hay's Galleria), I thought I would make my way up to the bridge where the other volunteers were already waiting with anticipation. I was lucky to get a space up there as I personally knew it was the best place to experience it as the high-ranking officers would've stood there. The captain's bridge at the time would have been open (she had a refit after D-Day before heading to the Far East) so very likely watched from the Admiral's Bridge or on deck, but highly likely below deck to give orders. 

The first shot was quite startling (and you can feel the vibration) but the following shots were exciting to watch! I would recommend bringing sensory aids - I wore my Loop earplugs. Frankenstein is standing by.

My manager from my original role with schools and families said she found the experience rather emotional, which of course is from the feeling of pride and empathy for all hands on board who served during the D-Day landings. I also felt that pride and empathy very intensely. 

I thought I'd chat with some fellow volunteers past and present after the commemorative display; one Royal Marines veteran jokingly accused me of stealing the ships cat as I had my Frankenstein plushie in my arms. I also introduced them to the Instagram account as well as dressing him in a teddy bear's veteran's suit especially for the event. 

There will be a social story blog post on HMS Belfast coming soon - watch this space! 😉

I also want to give credit and reference to Nick Hewitt’s IWM publication on HMS Belfast on D-Day which can be purchased here: https://shop.iwm.org.uk/products/hms-belfast-on-d-day