LITMIR.BIZ

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the military might and power that was being unleashed was a sight never to be forgotten by those who witnessed it, both attackers and defenders. Wonder and awe were not the only emotions experienced; dread and foreboding were uppermost also.

      For some it was an acutely held fear, with a sickening sensation of a lead lump or an empty vacant hollowness in the pit of their stomach; a chronic dizziness in their head; an inability to concentrate or hold any focused, coherent, rational thought for long in their minds. Overall it presented a potential helplessness to react and overcome the challenge of a situation that threatened to overwhelm them. It had the capacity to bring about a withdrawal into oneself, a loss of ability to control the situation and themselves within it. It was both a physical and a psychologically felt paralysis, capable of delivering a numbing, crippling, dysfunctionality if not mastered. Many in the landing craft at sea, those paratroopers and glider-borne troops in the air, as well as those within the strong points, pillboxes and gun emplacements on shore were afraid. Moving progressively closer to the proximity of danger and the increased likelihood of harm or death were mostly young men, uninitiated troops new to battle. They were suddenly confronted with the sharp realisation that war was inglorious, impersonal and arbitrary; they were very soon to learn that combat itself was random, raw and brutal, because actually fighting in a battle was all about killing or being killed. Then there were those fearing fear itself. The fear of feeling afraid is one of the biggest of all fears. There were other fears also:

      I always wished that if I got hit it would be clean and done with, that I would not be left lying screaming with a leg here or an arm there. So if I got hit cleanly it would be the first and I suppose the last that I would know about it. So that was the way I felt!

      Private Tommy Meehan (Dublin),

      2nd Battalion, Royal Ulster Rifles.

      The reality of D-Day was the chaos of the fighting and the turmoil within the fighters, each man fearful and each man already at war with himself, as Corporal Peter Huntley, Royal Engineer Corps explained: ‘I was glad I was an NCO [Non-Commissioned Officer, mostly sergeants and corporals] because when you are frightened, and we were all frightened, as an officer you cannot show it.’ Stronger even than the fear of falling short of expectations, was the harbouring of a strong sense of imminent death. There were those who held a belief, a presentiment that something was going to happen, a feeling of certainty of dying. That those with such premonitions contributed to their own self-fulfilling prophecy is unknown, while others, reconciled to approaching death, were fatalistic.

      ***

      D-Day was a bloody and terrifying battle; the horror of events anticipated and planned in advance. For months, even years beforehand, it was the fear of failure that occupied every waking, working moment of the D-Day invasion commanders and planners. The consequences of failure were immense and the possibility was to haunt them incessantly and insidiously. The repercussions of a fiasco, the dread of a debacle – and there were no guarantees that it would not be a washout – were huge. Doubts existed about not just the planning being flawed, but that the secret information, sensitive draft papers, maps and everything else contained therein would be either lost or stolen. To counter this, only those who were cleared with the appropriate security classification of ‘BIGOT’ were to catch sight of the details of Operation Overlord and other related documentation. The term ‘BIGOT’ was an acronym for ‘British Invasion of German Occupied Territory’ and denoted the highest level of security possible; above ‘Secret’ and even ‘Top Secret’. Adherence to this highly controlled circulation of the planning documents achieved the level of military secrecy and security required, and strict compliance to the list of those ‘BIGOTS’ entitled to receive such material was rigidly enforced.

      Working out the details of the intended invasion plan, drawing up a blueprint and developing a stratagem was an onerous process, involving much effort and difficulty. It was taxing, exacting and wearisome, yet the professional Allied military planners were well aware of the army axiom, the accepted general principle that, ‘Plans are nothing but planning is everything’. As soon as you cross the start line and go on the offensive, when the first shots are fired, the plan often comes apart; war has a narrative all of its own. To further complicate matters, the ‘start line’ for this operation was a shoreline, a different prospect entirely and one for which the Germans had four years to prepare their defences. To rupture them, to break open the vital exits from the beach into the hinterlands, the planning had to take into consideration the assembly, equipping, training and transportation of a force capable of breaking through the German lines, as it is fighting power that achieves objectives on the battlefield. To penetrate the German defences demanded a build-up of military assets capable of exerting the application of a concentration of kinetic force so strong that it would overwhelm the defenders.

      However, the plan also had to provide for being outmanoeuvred. Militarily, it would be reasonably straightforward, but the operation had to be mindful of its ability to drive off the German reserves in the inevitable counter-attack. It was about taking into account many matters all at once; time and space crucial among them, but there were so many elements vital to make the plan work: Getting the troops to shore, getting them onto the beaches, and then getting them inland in sufficient numbers with the capability to maintain their forward thrust was a start. Then the Allied forces had to join their separate footholds together into a bridgehead of sufficient width to affect an advance across northwest Europe. The planners identified, discussed and addressed the difficulties, only for more, other and further complexities to arise. The undertaking was enormous and the risks immense. There were so many uncontrollable, variable, unknown and unpredictable factors that plans relied on a mixture of ‘knowns’ and ‘assumptions’. There was such a thing as good and bad planning; the difference between having consideration of available assets, good intelligence, enemy strengths and weaknesses, clarity of purpose, and successfully matching the tasks to be achieved with the organisation of units to do so; and of course unity of command. To add further complexity, amphibious assault is one of the most dangerous manoeuvres to effect, due to the vulnerability of the troops involved. Get the planning wrong, miss something vital or not give sufficient weight to any one of a series of different elements contained in overcoming the powerfully designed and constructed defensive positions and the subsequent wherewithal to exploit an advance inland and onwards could prove fatal to the plan and those who had to execute it.

      From this the military planners identified the critical criteria, taking into consideration the necessary constraints and limitations upon which the planning priorities hinged upon or were hindered by. Understanding these and paying attention to them increased the chances of the plan succeeding. Always conscious of the fact that it was one thing to plan the fight but someone actually had to execute it, make it work, win and survive concentrated the planners’ minds. In this regard attention was paid to the lunar cycle, as two requirements were considered essential; the right conditions of moonlight and tide. A late rising moon was necessary to afford cover of darkness to the first waves of the parachute drop, while offering the benefit of moonlight after they had landed. This had to coincide with a dawn low tide, so those going ashore on the beaches could best avoid the obstacles. The timing of the whole invasion depended on such factors, and these were added to the other prerequisites in order to decide the ‘where’ of the invasion. Away from heavily defended ports; within range of air cover; the availability of enough suitable beaches; and most importantly, at the location least expected by the enemy and thus delivering the essential element of surprise.

      Translating the plan into actionable measures for the soldiers on the ground also involved the realisation that the Allies would be coming up against a new style of warfare. The Germans had reached the coast of France six weeks after they advanced into Europe, a feat unimaginable to their First World War counterparts. They had waged a new type of warfare, ‘blitzkrieg’ (lightning war), a military tactic designed to create disorganisation in the enemy forces through the use of mobile forces and concentrated firepower. The Allies realised this new warfare required a new kind of ‘warrior’ (commandos, rangers, paratroopers) and new equipment to meet the situation, plus specialised armour to clear a way through the obstacles defending the beach for the infantry. All of this and more had to be factored into the planning. If all this wasn’t enough to have to consider, or maybe because of it, an ever-present nagging doubt lingered in the minds of the planners. Was the

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