In May 1944 we set sail from Oran unaware that our destination was Britain. Most of us thought we were bound for Scilly. Our vessel was L.S.T. (Landing-ship Tanks). It was large for a ship the function of which was to land tanks on a beach. The tank deck held, I think, twenty four Shermans and the awkward spaces were filled with smaller vehicles, one of which was my ambulance. In the bows were huge doors and a ramp for unloading on to a beach dock. There was a steel deck above the tank space and all the other L.S.T.s in the convoy had deck cargo piled high on their upper deck. Our vessel was the odd one out. It had an L.C.T. (Landing Craft Tanks) lashed down above our heads. An L.C.T. is a smaller version of our ship without the upper deck. It was like a huge bath tub with engine and crew quarters at the stern. Its crew carried on as if they were at sea, and not perched high and dry on our upper deck. We could hear their orders, bells, public address system, etc. From certain vantage points we could see them going about their business, doing all the things crews do when at sea. They even carried out gunnery practice with small guns making a lot of noise and firing blanks. On two occasion's during the voyage there were air raids and real firing. Each time the whole convoy erupted with gunfire. On neither occasion did I see the aircraft, but then I am pretty sure that few of the gunners did either!
The passengers on our vessel were crews of the tanks carried below and also Larreur and myself. The reason why he had chosen to join me was purely comfort. His transport consisted of several ten-ton lorries and a few jeeps. Into these vehicles was packed his office and staff in highly uncomfortable fashion. It was clear why he had chosen to ride with me, but I think he might have changed his mind if he had known that the Americans were going to direct his vehicles to another ship. He hated to be away from his private office and his beloved typewriter by which orders were transmitted (which had a faulty letter B – see order of the day on my dining room wall). The tank crews were very much a group of their own so Larreur and I were thrown together. We were firm friends by the time we landed at Swansea.
The convoy consisted of many landing craft of various types, many nondescript freighters and one ancient Italian battleship going to the U.K. to be broken up. The battleship was next to us on the starboard side and as she rolled and wallowed along we could see her wooden decks and rusty weed-laden bottom. After passing through the Strait of Gibraltar we sailed north-west until we were far out in the Atlantic. It was very clear that we were not going to Scilly which only left the U.K. as our destination. During the third night we were woken by a vast explosion, though nothing else followed. In the morning the old ship was no longer there. Since no communications were allowed except by signal lamp nobody had any information to explain the disappearance. We had heard no depth-charging so it seemed most likely that the aged boilers had finally blown up. By the time we reached Swansea the event was long forgotten.