"We were called the ‘suicide wave', the first ones to go in. Our landing craft were lowered from a larger troop ship and into the sea about 15 miles from Omaha Beach. It was pitch black and blowing a gale.

I suppose I was scared, but I was more concerned with getting all my boats in on time for H-hour. Aged 22, I didn't think anything would happen to me. All the British crew were quite relaxed – we chatted among ourselves. The American soldiers we were taking in were apprehensive. They'd never faced enemy fire before. Nor were they used to the rough conditions and some were being seasick. We really bashed into the waves as we tried to keep up our speed up. We were taking a lot of sea spray.

About 1km out, one of my landing craft took on water and sank. All the men went into the sea, one went straight down under the weight of his kit. I shouted that I'd be back, but I just had to carry on. Anyway, there was no room for them in my boat.

I had a job to make out anything on the beach, visibility was so poor. I could pick out some nasty gun emplacements. I thought that if they were manned we'd be in trouble, but the only things they fired at us were mortars and anti-tank rounds. One of the latter penetrated the armour of one landing craft. It went through one side, through a soldier called Frank Draper, then through the other side. He was bleeding to death and nothing could be done for him.

We went full speed ahead towards the beach and when we hit bottom I released the ramp. There was an eerie silence, just the wind and waves. The Germans must just have been watching us. I think we were the very first to land in Occupied France.

The Americans were very grim-faced, but filed out with no hesitation into the water – which in some places was up to their knees and up to their shoulders in others. My job was finished, I'd taken them to the beach, their job had only just begun."