We were singled out quite suddenly and, with one other LCT sailed to Portland, my home port, on detached service, where we found that we had been seconded to the Americans and would be taking their assault engineers in on D-Day.

Portland Harbour, designed as a harbour of refuge in the days of sail, had from its inception been an operating base for the Royal Navy. In peacetime regular visits of the Royal Navy's various fleets came and went offering from the slopes of the island a grand panoramic view of what was then the mightiest navy in the world. Possibly, however, the harbour's finest hour came in its dying days as a naval base. In 1943 a massive, friendly invasion of Americans arrived to prepare the area for the greatest of all assemblies of ships - that, which in 1944, left these shores to attack Fortress Europe from over the Normandy Beaches.

The assembled mass of ships of war, in this the second biggest man made harbour, plus all the paraphernalia of war must have been a daunting sight for the G,Is now flooding to the island, for each knew that shortly he would be taking part in the largest enterprise of war ever envisaged by man.

A vehicle park carved at the rear of Chesil Beach filled with the ever rolling mass of the arrnour of 'The Big Red One' (the US 1st Division). in all some 144,090 of a great variety of the engines of war, and 418,588 troops passed through Portland and Weymouth Harbours on their way to what became known as 'Bloody Omaha' beach.

Many of the landing Craft in which they were to be transported over the 150 sea miles to Omaha were either the large American built Landing Ship Tank (LST) or the English built Landing Craft Tank (LCT). The former were large and unwieldy vessels capable of carrying some 80 vehicles and often had to be unloaded some distance from the beach into pontoon ferries. We, the LCTs, carried up to twelve tanks and were of shallow enough draft to dispose our cargoes right on to the beach.

The various 'hards' at Portland were alive with movement. Great tanks with every other kind of vehicle were being loaded into the waiting LCTs. As each loaded vessel drew away its place was taken by another, tank doors lowered, ready to receive all the paraphernalia of war. Our full load was twelve of the largest type of tank. We watched in amazement as the drivers of these great animals backed them along the tank deck into the two abreast position in the tank hold. Once in position, each tank had to be union-screwed down to prevent any movement should we meet bad weather. This too was heavy work for the crew. However the heavy exit door was our main tribulation. It could be well controlled when lowering, but to hoist it back and secure it for sea was another matter. All this was back-breaking work which had to be done by the hand-winches under the forecastle.

Our living condihons were at best spartan. A metal box, about twelve feet by eight feet served as a wardroom, to be shared by two officers. At night our blankets were unstowed from the wardrobe and a bed made up on the daytime seats. The table, if one wished to use the wardrobe, had to be unshipped - while the hand basin was the brainchild of no less than a genius. After use it was tilted upwards and backwards so that the dirty water was emptied into a galvanised container. An eye had to be kept on the level of the water in the container, otherwise it would end up all over your feet. All it needed was a length of pipe and a bit of plumbing and the whole problem could have been shot over the side. But these craft were built down to a price and not up to a standard. The crew's accommodation was literally among the Paxman Ricardo engines, enormous diesels, quite deafening when we were under weigh. How men lived in such condihons, conducted conversations or wrote letters, was a mystery.

We chugged out of Portland Harbour in droves making our way up to St Catherine's point off the Isle Of Wight and then to 'J' area where we altered course for the 'Beaches'. Park Lane in the rush hour had nothing on this area of the sea that day. With freshening wind, a lumpy sea developed and by now our American tank crews had gone very quiet and not a little green around the gills.

The immensity of the event became evident as the day wore on, when entire harbours began to take shape - those leviathan floating concrete blocks that none of us had been able to guess the reason for. We had brought our own harbours with us. The impossible had become a fact before our very eyes and men and equipment were being piled ashore both day and night.

Way down between the American and British sectors there were high cliffs and the majestic old Warspite was hurling eight-gun salvoes at the enemy gun emplacements sited at the top of them. That was something to remember! Finally our water supply ran out and we were released from this endless ship-to-shore shuttle. We had been hauling that blasted tank-door up several times a day for the past seven days.