I never met Alan Rennells. He had died of cancer before I began my interviews. This account is based on information provided by Tony Gibbins, son of the Royal Marine Tony Gibbins, who was also a D-Day hero.

During the early part of the battle for Hill 112, Alan Rennells, an infantryman with the Dorsetshire Regiment, had his stomach ripped open by shrapnel. Bleeding profusely, he had to hold the gaping wound together with his hands, to prevent his guts from spilling out.

His survival is a tribute to the stretcher bearers who risked their lives to get him away from the battle, and the medics in the field hospital at Bayeux, whose emergency surgery saved his life.

Even before he joined up Alan had seen what war can do. From his home at the time, in Nunnery Fields, he witnessed the bombing of Canterbury. The vision of the Cathedral silhouetted by the light of burning buildings, was one he never forgot.

Two years later he was called up, and on D+1, June 7, with his comrades from the Dorsetshires, he disembarked onto Gold beach at Arromanches. The original plan had been to head for the key city of Caen, but this was more heavily defended than had been anticipated.

On their way across to Hill 112, within sight of Caen, the Dorsets had to continually fight off sniper fire and the occasional mortar attack. They also had to deal with the stench from rotting cattle carcasses. Once on the Hill itself, their job was to clear the northern sector. But the enemy was not about to give up easily.

One of their most effective weapons was the Nebelwerfer, a weapon that fired multiple mortars, with a wailing sound that earned them the nickname “moaning minnies”. One of these fell near Alan, and the shrapnel ripped open his belly. He fell, close to a hedge.

Screaming in agony, and with blood pouring from the gash, he used his hands to hold his abdomen together to prevent his guts spilling out. He told Tony Gibbins that there was a strong smell of burning flesh, which turned out to be his own.

Shells were exploding all around him, and bullets were flying in all directions. A soldier next to him stood up to return fire but fell with a bullet in his chest. He did not survive long.

As Alan lay helpless, three German soldiers ran past. Once of them stopped, drew his revolver, and shot him. The bullet went through his hand and into his leg. The German then ran on after his companions.

A small group of British soldiers arrived, saw what happened, and ran off after the Germans. Then some medics came and put Alan on a stretcher. They had to get him across a field to a waiting jeep, but when a mortar dropped nearby, they dropped him and fell to the ground.

They did get him to the jeep, and Alan was taken on board, made secure and driven away from the battlefield. He was losing consciousness as well as blood but remained awake long enough to see the party of British soldiers who had pursued the Germans who shot him. They gave him a thumbs up, which he took to mean they had dealt with them.

At the field hospital at Bayeux, surgeons patched Alan up as best they could and put 14 pints of blood into him. He was taken back across the Channel and ended up in a hospital in Scotland, where he was to spend the next two years. For a long time, he had to wear a surgical belt, which held him together until his wounds healed.

Alan, most recently of Pound Lane, Canterbury, died in October 2008. But not before Tony Gibbins accompanied him across to Normandy for a final visit, and a trip to Hill 112, where he had been  severely wounded.