Vic Longhurst, from Orpington, was a signaller aboard a landing craft on D-Day. But when the bullets were flying there were no signals to send, so he helped man an Oerlikon gun instead, getting wounded in the process.

Aged 17, he was registered to work in the coal mines as a Bevan boy in 1943, and didn’t fancy the prospect. He decided to enlist but was turned down as too young by both the army and the RAF. The Royal Navy, however, was recruiting 17-year-olds.

Soon he was on his way to the Butlins Holiday Camp at Skegness, which had been commandeered by the Navy as a training centre. After completing his basic training, he was sent to another Butlins camp in Scotland, where he trained as a signalman.

In the April of 1944 he was posted to Southampton where preparations for D-Day were well underway. There he joined an LCT (landing craft tank) flotilla, handling communications for the entire group.

“When we were told that D-Day was definitely on, and that we would be going, I never thought anything about it,” he said. “I never thought of the danger. We were kept very busy.

“The King came down to review the fleet, and we all stood to attention in our No. 1uniforms and saluted. But the vessel he was on kept to the middle of the river and we never saw anything of him.

“On the fifth of June I was sent to a place in Shirley for some urgent signals. It was hammering down with rain when I came away. When I got back to where the landing craft had been, it was no longer there. I was told it had been moved to Millbrook Hard for some urgent repairs. They said it was a mile away, but I reckon it was more like four miles.

“I was soaking wet when I found the ship, and I hadn’t eaten all day. She was just about to slip her moorings. The skipper said I could go below and get into dry clothes and maybe get something to eat. But I was halfway through the hatch when they called “action stations”. So, I had to go back onto the bridge.

“Our vessel was an LCT HE. We were carrying a tank, high explosive ammunition, and a squad from the Canadian Winnipeg Rifles. We picked up another five landing-craft, as we slipped down river, and then found the one that was to lead us across.

“I had two signals to send on the way across. One was about what to do when we landed on the beach, the other was ‘deploy and follow me’ as we headed onto the beach. Of course, signals could only be sent astern, because otherwise they could have been seen from France.

“We were to land on Juno beach, which meant nothing to me at the time. As we were preparing to go in, I noticed there was no No.2 on the Oerlikon gun. This meant the gunner had to unstrap himself and walk around the gun every time he wanted a new pan of ammunition. I pointed this out to the captain, and he said: ‘Go down and do your best for me.’

“We got quite close to the beach, and the enemy opened up on us with heavy machine gun fire. You could see the tracers coming in. Of course, they were aiming at the bridge, but our gun was close to the bridge.

“The coxswain, who was steering the vessel, was killed immediately. A bullet entered his head. Bullets were hitting the wheelhouse and ricocheting onto me. I was wounded in the right arm and had several little bits of shrapnel go into me. They have been coming out ever since.

“Remembering, I had never been in action before, and never really been to sea before.

“On the beach everything was going off and people were getting killed all over the place. I went to the wheelhouse and the coxswain was laying on the floor dead. The telegraphist was in a corner all tangled in his headphones. I announced through the intercom that I had taken over the wheel.

“On the way in we must have hit a mine or something, because the door at the front couldn’t be lowered. In the end they lowered it by hand. I helped get the coxswain out of the wheelhouse.

“The Canadians got off and a party of Royal Marines took the ammunition off. They were supposed to stay with it on the beach, but they climbed back on board. They couldn’t get the ramp up again, so all manoeuvring had to be carried out stern first.

“The body of the coxswain and I were taken off and taken out to the SS Clan Lamont, one of the support vessels. My wounds were re-dressed and by now it was beginning to hurt me. I hadn’t felt anything up till then. The medic who was dressing my wounds said: ‘You ain’t going to faint on me are you?’ and told me to go up on deck and get some fresh air.

“I then found out they were going to bury the coxswain at sea, and I was a bit upset about that. I thought: ‘Well he’s on board, and we’re going back to England, why not take him with us? I even spoke to the captain about it. But he said the orders were to bury the dead at sea and not bring them back, and he couldn’t go against orders.”

After being treated in hospital for his wounds, Vic served aboard various craft, before being posted to, first India and then Singapore, after the Japanese had been defeated. He served a brief term in Sumatra, before being discharged. Back in civilian life he resumed working in the building trade.