- Contributed by
- Annabel Blair
- People in story:
- Mary Cecile Norris, Edmund Joseph Norris (Joe)
- Location of story:
- Falmouth, Cornwall
- Background to story:
- Civilian
- Article ID:
- A8553738
- Contributed on:
- 15 January 2006
Dining table, showing the damage caused by planning the D-Day embarkations in Falmouth, and original postcard of The Haven hotel
The embarkation of the troops for the Normandy landings was planned from our dining room table.
My grandparents owned a hotel, The Haven, on Falmouth seafront.
One day, around 1941/early 1942, my grandmother watched a smart naval gentleman coming up the drive.
He bade them the time of day. Then gave them 48 hours to move out all their guests, and themselves. He also informed my grandparents that they should leave this piece of furniture, that piece of furniture, put the rest in storage, oh and we'll keep this dining table...
It seemed that the hotel was in a prime spot, with a perfect view of Falmouth bay.
My grandparents moved out. The dining table stayed behind. And the big armed cheeses moved in.
They did all their planning with a grand view of the bay outside their (our) window. And, at some point, they seem to have slammed fists, ground out their cigarettes and no doubt visited a range of other things on the table.
Before long, a huge split and some rather dubious looking holes appeared in it.
Upcountry, in East Anglia and Kent, the decoy tanks and planes were working. Down in the west country, the invasion troops, many Americans (all those Private Ryans), gathered and waited for the big push.
Our part in the planning complete, the troops embarked, and then in quiet flotillas, headed out across the Channel towards the beaches of Normandy. D-Day had arrived.
The cunning plan had worked. And the dining room table certainly looked like it had played a big part in it.
After the war, my grandparents returned to their hotel, now accompanied by a little girl (my mother).
On wooden boards, they found drawings and plans of boats and barges moored up the River Fal, things that looked like troop allocations and movements.
My grandfather later even built some of these plans into the back of a fireplace for their next house.
And they were really rather upset to discover wires and nails all the way up the beautiful, lovingly-polished mahogany balustrade that ran the length of the hotel's main staircase.
Now, all that's left is the table.
It's been polished up a bit since then. The splits and the holes are still there though.
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