We were all nervous, but one of my abiding memories is standing with a whole tin of corned beef in one hand and a hunk of bread covered with thick butter in the other and thinking, “If I am killed and this is the condemned man’s last meal, I wish it was some of my mum’s home cooking.” (As it turned out, that was the last piece of bread I ate for about four months ”” it was hardtack biscuits from then on.)
When we were about four miles from the shore we were ordered to get into the craft, which bobbed several feet below the deck. We lined up to make the jump one by one, from one moving deck to another.
The sea was choppy, rising up and down by about 16 feet, bringing the smaller craft up next to the ship and then moving them out of reach, so we had to judge the right time to jump and hope for the best. A few of our blokes misjudged it and were crushed between the hulls….