In Oxford, Joy Howard was up shortly after dawn. She was so busy feeding and bathing and pottying the little ones that she did not turn on the radio. About 10 a.m. her neighbours, the Johnson’s, knocked and told her that the invasion had started. ‘We know Major Howard will be in it somewhere’, they said, and insisted that Joy and the children join them for a celebration lunch. They lifted the baby chairs over the fence, and treated Joy to a brace of pheasants, a gift from friends in the country, and a bottle of vintage wine they had been saving for just this occasion.
Joy kept thinking of John’s last words, that when she heard the invasion had started she would know that his job was done. They hardly gave her any comfort now, because she realised that for all she knew she was already a widow. As best she could, she put such thoughts out of her mind, and enjoyed the lunch. She spent the afternoon at her chores, but with her attention concentrated on the radio. She never heard John’s name mentioned, but she did hear of the parachute drops on the eastern flank, and assumed John must be part of that.
Von Luck’s panzers were rolling now, or rather moving forward as best they could through the exploding naval shells and the RAF strafing. Major Becker, the genius with vehicles who had built the outstanding SPV capability in von Luck’s 125th Regiment, led the battle group descending on Benouville. His Moaning Minnies were firing as fast as he could reload them.
By 1300 the men at the bridge, and those in Benouville and Le Port, were beginning to feel disconcertingly like the settlers in the circled-up wagon train, Indians whooping all around them as they prayed for the cavalry to show up. They had enough ammunition to throw back probing attacks, but could not withstand an all-out assault – not alone anyway.
Tod Sweeney was gloomily considering the situation, sitting next to Fox. Suddenly he nudged Fox. ‘Listen’, he said. ‘I can hear bagpipes.’ Fox scoffed at this: ‘Oh, don’t be stupid, Tod, we’re in the middle of France, you can’t hear bagpipes.’
Sergeant Thornton, in his trench, told his men to listen, that he heard bagpipes. ‘Go on’, they replied, ‘what are you talking about, you must be bloody nuts.’ Thornton insisted that they listen.
Howard, at his CP, was listening intently. Back at Tarrant Rushton, he. Pine Coffin, and the commander of the Commandos, the legendary Lord Lovat, had arranged for recognition signals when they met in Normandy. Lovat, arriving by sea, would blow his bagpipes when he approached the bridge, to indicate that he was coming. Pine Coffin’s bugler would blow back, with one call meaning the road in was clear, another that it was contested, and so on.
The sound of the bagpipe became unmistakable; Pine Coffin’s bugler answered with a call that meant there was a fight going on around the bridges.
Lovat’s piper. Bill Millin, came into view, then Lovat. It was a sight never to be forgotten. Millin was beside Lovat, carrying his great huge bagpipe and wearing his beret. Lovat had on his green beret, and a white sweater, and carried a walking stick, ‘and he strode along’, Howard remembers, ‘as if he was on a flaming exercise back in Scotland’.
The Commandos came on, a Churchill tank with them. Contact had been made with the beachhead, and the men of D Company were ecstatic. ‘Everybody threw their rifles down’, Sergeant Thornton remembers, ‘and kissing and hugging each other, and I’ve seen men with tears rolling down their cheeks. I did honestly. Probably I was the same. Oh, dear, celebrations I shall never forget.’
When Georges Gondree saw Lovat coming, he got a tray, a couple of glasses, and a bottle of champagne then went dashing out of his cafe, shouting and crying. He caught up to Lovat, who was nearly across the bridge, and with a grand gesture offered him champagne. Lovat gave a simple gesture of ‘No, thanks’, in return, and marched on.
The sight was too much for Wally Parr. He ran out to Gondree, nodding his head vigorously and saying, ‘out, oui, oui’. Gondree, delighted, poured. ‘Oh dear’. Parr says, ‘that was good champagne. Did it go down easy’.