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[underline] Extracts from my diary [end underline]
[underline] June 4th [end underline] At last, to everyone's relief D-day was announced for June 5th.
Our LCT up-anchored and began moving down the Solent passing the great
L.S.I.'s. Waves were running high of the I.O.W. the convoy stopped
and hung around until a signal ran through the fleet. We turned
round. Postponed. The suspense aboard all ships was almost
unbearable.

[underlined] June 5th [end underlined]. The Armada set sail despite most unfavourable weather reports. Our
L.CI. weighed anchor at 10.00 hours once [insert] more [end insert] passed the great
L.S.I.'s and once more the waves were running high. Capt. Perry
and Capt Hale [insert] * Later killed, about June 12th. [end insert] (in the L.S.I.'s - acting as F.O.O's for Infantry)
flashed signals by lamp "Good luck" to our L.C.I. as we
steamed by. As we passed the Needles and felt the first
Atlantic swells we knew there was now no turning back. The
documents marked "Not to be opened until the last possible
moment" were now opened. Messages to the Troops from the King, Eisenhower, Montgomery and 50 Div. CommDr. were read out in the
Army shelter under the bridge of the L.C.T.. Final briefing with
correct names as well as their code names were given and the
last instructions. [As there was little room in this shelter, I had
to give the briefing 3 times to all Army personnel aboard, which
included a detachment of a R.E beach party. Each briefing lasted
about 40 minutes and in the confined space, with the L.C.T.
beginning to pitch and roll, I was feeling very queasy at the
end and glad of some fresh air.]

Everyone was by now wearing his Mae West (life belt) and
a check was made to see that everything was securely fastened
down and the ammunition secure and dry. Spray and waves
were washing over the sides. Soon we began to feel queer and
bags, vomit, were produced. [Sea-sick pills had been distributed
earlier. I did not take mine until the briefing was over and
already beginning to feel sick. Later I remembered "retching" in
a quiet corner, but not violently sick]. The wind was dead
against the bows, the boat heaving and swaying, chains and
shackles grinding against each other and the tanks, the boat's
engines reving at high speed. There was little comfort for
anyone. Some tried to sleep inside their vehicles.

Our L.C.T. was towing a fast motor launch to save fuel.
Three times before night fall the towing cable snapped with
the strain of the constant buffeting of the waves. In the end
it was cast adrift to come along under its own power. It
was almost dark before we finally said the land was out
of sight.