The Kerbside Soldiers, the Build-up to D-Day

In 1944 my home, with mother, stepfather (in reserved occupation) and five younger siblings, was on the south coast of England at WIMBORNE, DORSET, five miles inland from POOLE HARBOUR and the long coastline through BOURNEMOUTH to SOUTHAMPTON and WEYMOUTH.

In April 1944 we began to see the arrival and build-up of American soldiers on our roads. Their trucks suddenly appeared parked everywhere throughout the lanes and countryside from the edge of one town to the next and back inland for 20 miles. Thousands and thousands of them. Each truck virtually became 'home' to about 6-8 soldiers, 'GIs' and there they just 'parked up' day after day, sometimes moving on in the night to tented camp facilities established on common land sites in wooded areas for better feeding and recreation arrangements. Otherwise they played cards or dice on the pavements, and baseball with children. Talking to local people as we went by and making friends with families at whose gateway they were parked. Everyone began to wonder what this was all about. Waiting for something important it seemed.

The Americans were well paid by our living standards, they had and shared chocolate rations and fruit we had not seen for a long time. One young man of 19 became a friend of our family; we were pleased when we heard that he had returned safely to GEORGIA,USA after 1945. So many of these soldiers were still in their teens.

The troops looked for companionship in the time they were allowed freedom. Girls too young to join the forces were in great demand at the local dances where the soldiers themselves often provided the music, or an evening out to the cinema; those American films helped them and relieved the boredom of the everlasting waiting for action. Many good friendships were made until they moved on.

In 1944 young girls were unsophisticated and listened to their mothers' advice. Mostly! There was certainly plenty of choice of male company and the films promoted romantic times.

There was never talk of the reason for this great build-up of troops, we had all been drilled so long in the campaign and posters: 'CARELESS TALK COSTS LIVES', though there was much speculation.

In Bournemouth, as I started my higher education, were encamped the Canadian airmen, nice and cosy in the requisitioned hotels. But we little knew of their roles in the dangerous days to come for them.

Mostly the GIs who occupied the roads, kerbsides and country around our homes were white, very young men from all parts of the USA. As the troops moved slowly forward from the outer areas, imperceptibly it seemed, nearer and nearer to the coast, so came a new company to replace them. Never a mixture of white and coloured soldiers. One would not accept the other in those days even in war and action. The black troops were well received in our town by local people. They seemed quieter, more kindly, and we noticed they were so very homesick and always cold in England.

We became used to the nightly rumbles of vehicles and troop movements, sleeping through these manoeuvres, it was now part of our lives and anyway better than wondering if a bomb or landmine would be dropped near us, or the shattering noise of gunfire.

So that, on the night of 5 June 1944, nothing seemed unusual. In fact so ordinary did the night seem that my stepfather, on duty in the Home Guard Centre, wrote in the log book - 'Nothing to report'!

BUT, on the morning of 6 June no-one was prepared for the utter shock of seeing our roads and countryside completely empty. Every truck and soldier gone, as though they had never been. The eeriest sensation, almost incomprehensible that such a clearance could happen. Then the radio announced the invasion of Europe had started, coded D-Day, and almost as we recognised the clearance of the land so our heads turned upwards and the sky became thick with wave upon wave of aircraft which continued all day long, heading out to France. Perhaps the Canadian fliers as well. The noise was incredible.

One of the greatest miltary operations executed from our very doorsteps and the beginning of a new world to be rebuilt for us to continue our growing up years.

For many years to come we were to reflect on the cost in the lives of our kerbside soldiers, where they went we could only surmise. The fields of white crosses in France continue the memory of them for my generation.

© Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.