"I had nearly drowned in the invasion of Sicily, so on D-Day I arranged the straps of my heavy kit so that they would be blown off. My landing craft went up about 600 yards off shore – I don't know if it was sunk by a mine or by a shell. I woke up under water and my kit had indeed been knocked clear. I didn't know which way was up and activated my life preserver and floated to the top to gulp in air.

Machine gun bullets were hitting everywhere. I was scared to death and there was nothing I could do but duck under the water when they came close and hold my breath as long as I could. I had no desire to go out to sea, so in the lulls I would swim vigorously to the beach.

At the water's edge I had insufficient courage to run to the safety of the cliff. It was 100 yards away and the Germans were raking the beach with grazing fire. I watched some men run and make it and others run and get cut down. Finally I decided I'd die if I didn't run. If Jesse Owens had been there that day, he'd have come second.

From the shelter of cliff, some men dashed out to save the wounded on the beach. Some were killed. I didn't have the courage to do that and that's something I've had to live with.

The tide was coming in fast – about a foot a minute. I saw that the high tide mark on the cliff was well over my head. Someone said: ‘Let's go, damn it!' I knew we had to move, but I was not too keen. I picked up a weapon and we set off to fight our way off the beach. It was nothing heroic, nothing brave. It was just self-preservation."