Part 15 Isle d’Oleron

When I got back to Dundonald Camp, all the required equipment was issued, and our section was told to proceed to the French side of the English Channel, and contact a group of the French maquis (resistance) where the river Gironde run into the Bay of Biscay.

There was a fortress on an island, called Isle d’Oleron, in the Bay, which had been bypassed by our forces, and which was still occupied by Germans. Our forces by this time had just started fighting in Germany.

When we contacted the French group, it was difficult at first to get any order from the assembly as they were all dressed in civilian clothes, and carrying rifles, and tommy guns, but order eventually prevailed, after a lot of arm waving, and shouting.

It was arranged that we would be taken over to the island by a rowing boat in the early hours of the following morning while it was still dark.

Once we had loaded all our gear into the rowing boat it was well down in the water, but we managed to get safely on to the island, the oarsman having kept very quiet, and having muffled his oars. He dropped us on a sandbank, and then rowed himself back to the mainland.

We positioned ourselves comfortably on the sandbank, and the captain, peering over the top with his binoculars, started to work out the map reference for the fortress.

I set up the radio, and got ready to transmit, the supporting warship being French, and called the Montcalm. We had a liaison officer on board shi

Suddenly the sand, a few inches from my body started spurting up, and I thought the worms must be very active in the pile of sand. I realised that the spurts were in time with machine gun fire from the mainland, and I realised that we were being shot at by our allies on the mainland. Someone on the mainland seeing shapes moving about on the island must have thought we were Germans. I swung my radio round to protect my chest, wishing that it was a lot bigger than it was (the radio). Fortunately the bursts of gunfire soon stopped, and we were none the worse.

After I had transmitted the map reference figures to the Montcalm, a few ranging shots came over and soon we were bang on target. We used a clock code to correct the fall of shots. Twelve o’clock being due north, and three o’clock due east, etc, and every 100 yards away from the target was a letter of the alphabet, “A” being 100 yards, “B” two hundred yards and so on. E.g. 6C meant that the shells were falling due south – 300 yards from the target.

Shortly after the shells started landing on the fortress, the Germans ran up the white flag, as they realised that they were fighting a lost cause.

Our friend with the rowing boat came over with a delegation who were going to the fort to arrange the surrender, and he took us back to the mainland. Nobody knew who had been firing at us from the mainland at the start of the operation, or if they did, they were not going to say.

We learned later that the first few shells that had been fired by the Montcalm had simply dropped out of the gun barrel into the sea. Our liaison officer told us that initially the French gunners were getting a bit panic-stricken, but they got it right in the end.