The most unwieldy craft, even worse than the LCTs, were the Rhino ferries, barges hooked together carrying trucks, jeeps, bulldozers, and other heavy equipment, towed by LSTs across the Channel, with outboard motors to provide their own propulsion for the run-in to the beach.⁴

On USS Bayfield, an attack transport that served as headquarters for Maj. Gen. Raymond O. Barton, commander of the 4th Infantry Division, the decks were jammed with troops and sailors. Barton’s deputy commander, Brig. Gen. Theodore Roosevelt, moved among the men, speaking softly and soothingly. Countless members of the 4th Division recall the words of reassurance that Roosevelt, the oldest man going ashore that day, said to them. They remember, too, that he began singing and urged them to join in. Lt. John Robert Lewis described the scene: “During the cruise across, we all assembled on the deck of the Bayfield and sang ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic’ and ‘Onward Christian Soldiers.’ This was a very sobering time to sing the words, ‘As God died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.’ ”⁵

Seaman Joseph Donlan, a radio operator on Bayfield, remembered thinking that at that moment his high-school class was holding graduation exercises. Had he not joined the Navy, he would have been there.⁶ On LST 530, Seaman Gene Sizemore reported to Capt. Anthony Duke. Just before departing England, Sizemore had told Duke, “I’m only fifteen, Captain, and I don’t want to go on this trip.” (He had lied about his age when he enlisted.) Duke had replied, “Well, Sizemore, you are going anyway.”

“Well, Captain, I am scared,” Sizemore rejoined, “and I want to get off, NOW.”

Duke said he felt sorry for him, but the best he could do was order Sizemore to report to the bridge every hour: “That way, I’ll be able to see how you’re doing and you’ll be able to see how I’m doing.” So Sizemore reported, and he was doing fine.

LST 530 was headed to Gold Beach, the second LST in a column of twelve. One of the first things Duke did was order the barrage balloon cut loose. The cables were snapping in the wind and were a danger to the crew. Other LST skippers did the same.

Looking around, Duke recalled, “By God, I’ll never forget the feeling of power—power about to be unleashed—that welled up in me as I viewed the long, endless columns of ships headed toward Normandy.”⁷

In spite of the wind and rough sea, the crowded movement of the thousands of Allied ships and small craft ran off close to schedule, with some minor bumping but no major collisions. This remarkable feat, according to Admiral Morison, was incredible enough to “suggest divine guidance.”⁸

Against this host, the Germans could put into action a handful of gunboats, a few submarines, a small fleet of E-boats, and nothing more. In World War I, Germany had challenged Britain for control of the seas; by 1944 the Germans had only three ships larger than destroyers still afloat—the cruisers Prinz Eugen, Nürnberg, and Emden—and they were in port on D-Day.

At 2300, Nevada, followed by cruisers Quincy, Tuscaloosa, and HMS Black Prince, entered Piccadilly Circus to head south-southeast for Utah. At 0230, Nevada reached her position, eleven miles off the coast. “As we neared our position in the Bay of the Seine,” Lt. Ross Olsen recalled, “we felt like we were sneaking up on the enemy and even talked in whispers, thinking that we might be heard by the Germans on the beach, which of course was impossible. But when we cut loose the anchor, it made a tremendous noise as the anchor chain went through the hawsepipe.” Olsen was sure the Germans had to have heard it.⁹ Quickly the rattle of other chains running through hawsepipes filled the air, off Utah and the other four beaches.

THE GERMANS HEARD nothing, saw nothing. Although there had been a steady stream of ships coming from Piccadilly Circus since well before midnight, lined up so close in their columns as to practically form a bridge from the Isle of Wight to Normandy, and although the first ships reached the transport areas around 0200, German search radar failed to pick up anything. This was partly due to German inefficiency, more to the effectiveness of preinvasion air bombardment, when the bombers had made radar sites on the coast primary targets, destroying some and damaging many more. Further, the Allied aircraft were throwing down “windows,” foil strips that caused hundreds of echoes on the German radars. Admiral Krancke had canceled the usual E-boat parrols because of the foul weather, so the boats were still in port in Le Havre, Ouistreham, and Cherbourg.

At 0309, German radar finally spotted the fleet. Krancke promptly issued orders to the shore batteries to prepare to repel an invasion. He sent the E-boat flotillas and two armed trawlers into battle; they were under way by 0348.

IN THE AMERICAN transports, the cooks fed the soldiers Spam sandwiches and coffee. On the British LSTs, the men got a fried-egg breakfast (swimming in grease) and a tot of rum. Lt. Cdr. B. T. Whinney (RN), the beachmaster for Gold, was astonished when at 0200 in the officers mess on Empire Arquebus sharply uniformed stewards wearing white gloves proffered menus.¹⁰

Between 0100 and 0400, depending on when the men were due to arrive at the beach, the bos’ns’ whistles sounded on the LSTs: “Now hear this! All Navy hands man your battle stations.” The sailors scurried to their posts. The bos’ns’ whistles sounded again: “Now hear this! All assault troops report to your debarkation areas.” The men climbed into their LCVPs and other craft; when the whistle sounded again, followed by the order “Away all boats!” the heavily loaded craft were swung by the davits over the side and slowly lowered into the water.

On Empire Javelin, a British transport carrying the 1st Battalion, 116th Infantry, 29th Division, off Omaha Beach, the davit lowering one craft got stuck for half an hour halfway down the ship’s side, directly beneath the scupper. “During this half-hour, the bowels of the ship’s company made the most of an opportunity that Englishmen have sought since 1776,” recalled Maj. Tom Dallas, the battalion executive officer. “Yells from the boat were unavailing. Streams, colored everything from canary yellow to sienna brown and olive green, continued to flush into the command group, decorating every man aboard. We cursed, we cried, and we laughed, but it kept coming. When we started for shore, we were all covered with shit.”¹¹

The landing craft that had made the crossing hanging on booms over the sides of the LSTs were lowered into the water with only their coxswains aboard. As the coxswains of the LCVPs (mostly Coast Guard, almost all young, many still teenagers) brought their engines to life and began circling, the LSTs and other transports dropped their rope nets over the side.