LIEUTENANT Philip Bennett was 19 as his assault craft made its way towards Sword Beach on the morning of D-Day, June 6, 1944. It was a Tuesday. He wondered whether he would live to see Wednesday.

'As we neared the beach we had real pangs of fear — anyone who said they didn't is a liar. But you had to overcome the fear and keep going. When we got ashore we just got on with the job.'

What Philip Bennett calls 'the job' was a tremendously tough task: to dislodge German troops from machine gun emplacements and liberate the French coastal town of Ouistreham, paving the way for a flood of Allied troops to land in comparative safety.

In the first-hand account published below, Philip Bennett relates his experiences as a young officer, centre stage in the most important theatre of war in human history.

On that fateful dawn, he was aware of the colossal importance of the task: 'By dawn's early light I saw this great armada stretching as far as the eye could see. It was then that I realised, my God, we're making history today.'

That morning, after a snatched sleep on board the SS Princess Astrid, he breakfasted on fried eggs, bacon and sausages. 'The last supper,' the ship's cooks sardonically called it.

As the French coast neared, officers and men transferred to assault craft that were lowered into the water. The commandos ignored orders to don steel helmets, preferring to go into battle wearing their green berets.

Officers carried a rifle or sten gun or tommy gun rather than a pistol, so they could not be distinguished from the other ranks and picked off by German snipers.

Lt Bennett stuffed a pair of binoculars inside his battledress blouse and a hunting horn.

French Commandos, led by Commandant Philippe Kieffer, were to capture a casino building which had been converted into an armoured strongpoint above the beach. Lt Bennett and his fellow British Commandos were to advance to the rear of the town before cutting back through it to take machine gun posts in front of the beach, and near the casino building.

In a built-up area, radio signals would be distorted so Lt Bennett was to sound the hunting horn to alert the French commandos in the casino that the British were ready to attack the machine gun posts. They did so, 'firing from the hip and yelling like banshees . . . '

Twelve days later Lt Bennett was wounded in the head and shoulder by a mortar shell and shipped back to England for treatment.

Col Bennett is now almost 80. A tall man, he suffers from arthritis, and walks with the aid of a stick because of serious circulation problems in his left leg. Despite this he still has a military bearing and his eyes are alive as he relates the amusing anecdotes of Army life.

He was at Ouistreham for the 50th anniversary of D-Day and will be there again for the 60th. Leading politicians will be in Normandy to mark the anniversary. France's President Chirac will meet veterans at Ouistreham.

Col Bennett says: 'President Chirac's coming down to thank us.' He shrugs and smiles. 'Apparently, he's going to give us some sort of gong.'

Bullets, blood, bravery . . . and the cup that cheers

Col Philip Bennett relates his experiences with

C Troop, No 4 Commando, as his assault craft moved towards Sword Beach on D-Day:

The sea became a little more choppy as we neared the shore, which was just visible through the morning haze, and many a breakfast was heaved up over the boat's side. Then a few large splashes appeared ahead and we realised we were coming within range of enemy guns.

Ahead and to our left were the assault craft of the French Commandos; they had been given the honour of being first to land on their native soil.

Enemy shells were now falling around and one boat to our right was hit. Fast RAF rescue launches dashed up to pick up survivors.

Much nearer the shore and we could see, quite clearly, disabled landing craft on the beaches that had taken in an infantry unit to protect assault engineers clearing mines in shallow water. Heavy machine gun fire pounded into our craft's sturdy ramp. Wreckage and dead bodies passed on either side of the craft.

The French Commandos were close in now and we saw puffs of smoke from two-inch mortars being fired from their boats and saw smoke bombs landing around the enemy beach defences. The smoke would shield them from aimed fire as they landed.

D Troop, just in front of our boats, also fired smoke bombs to the right of the French Commandos, now landing and running up the beach with all their weapons firing from the hip, and cries of 'Viva La France!'

We were now but a hundred yards from the sandy beach and the propellers of the craft ahead had stirred up dead bodies and parts of bodies, and the shallow water turned a dirty red colour.

The two craft carrying C Troop hit the beach at about the same time. The forward ramps went down and we poured out onto the sand to be confronted by the sad sight of many dead and dying infantry soldiers lying on the sand with the incoming tide washing over them.

We moved off at the double in the formation we had rehearsed many times before. The enemy were still firing blindly through the smoke with machine guns and mortars.

I passed a group of infantry soldiers desperately trying to dig into the sand for cover and yelled at them to get up and follow us in — there was no response.

We were getting near to the barbed wire defences and the firing became more intense as the smoke-screen lifted. Several of our men were hit.

We managed to insert a length of Bangalore torpedoes (small-bore flexible pipes filled with explosives) under the wire and detonated to make a gap for the troop to pass through.

The troop sergeant, who had heard me shouting at the infantry soldiers to follow us, told me that shortly after an enemy mortar bomb made a direct hit on the group. 'Nothing left but strawberry jam in the sand,' were the words he used.

Capt Pat Porteous VC, who commanded D Troop that came in just ahead of us, sent a fighting patrol across the road to deal with the snipers and observation post on Sniper's Hill (see map) after giving the hill a pounding with two-inch mortar bombs.

By now, the whole of 4 Commando had arrived in the assembly area and the beach defences in our sector were destroyed. We had taken a number of casualties but were still fighting fit, so the order was given to move into Ouistreham and destroy the enemy gun battery.

Phillipe Keiffer's French Commandos were the first to move as they had to capture the casino strongpoint. As they were leaving, we saw No 6 Commando and Brigade HQ come in on the beach, They were in much larger landing craft than ours.

Through my binoculars I saw Lord Lovat come ashore, followed by his piper, Bill Millin, carrying his bagpipes. Bill walked up and down the beach, playing his pipes until all the troops disembarked, despite enemy shells and mortar bombs exploding all around. It was the most remarkable display of bravery I have ever seen.

We made our way down the southern Ouistreham road to a place where we dumped our heavy rucksacks.

Halfway down the street, with B Troop leading, we came under fire from a large building to our right. The Germans opened up with machine guns and rifle grenades from buildings further down the road. It looked like we were in for some tough street fighting.

Just then, a tank rumbled down the street from the direction where we set off. A head appeared from the turret and its voice called: 'Can I be of any assistance?' It was Capt Bill Denny of the 13/18 Hussars. Our CO shouted back to him to knock out the enemy machine guns, which he did, and we moved down the street with the tank helping out when required.

A soldier I recognised as C Troop commander Capt David Style's runner came dashing up to me to say that the troop leader was down and would I come forward to take over. As our other troop officer had been wounded badly during the assault up the beach, I was the only one still on his feet.

We at last made it to the start line for the attack on the gun battery. I reported to the CO at his command post. He had a bandage round his head and blood was dripping down his face. On seeing me he said: 'What are you doing here, Billy Boy? Where's David?' ('Billy Boy' was the nickname given me by Lord Lovat when I first joined the Commandos and he was told I was the youngest in the Brigade).

I informed him David Styles had been wounded and I was the only officer left in C Troop. He gave me my orders for the attack on the three machine gun posts.

I mentioned that as he was in radio contact with the French Commandos, who by then had captured the casino, he would not require me to sound the hunting horn. Perhaps seeing a look of disappointment, he snapped: 'Oh, very well, Billy Boy, sound your bloody horn when you're ready to go, just for the hell of it.'

I moved C Troop into position. Under cover of smoke grenades, the ladders we had carried were placed across the nine-foot anti-tank ditch and the Bangalore torpedoes linked together and thrust under the barbed wire.

A Troop were now in the top storey of the building adjacent to our target, ready to give covering fire, as were the French Commandos in the tall casino building.

I sent up a quick prayer to the Almighty, put the hunting horn to my lips and sounded the 'Tally Ho' twice, just for the hell of it.

A cheer went up from C Troop, the Bangalore torpedoes were detonated, together with the anti-tank mines in the ditch, and yards of barbed wire and steel pickets went hurtling skywards.

I gave the traditional shout: 'C Troop, follow me!' and off we went, hell for leather across the ladders, spread out in formation, and went for the machine guns with all weapons firing from the hip and yelling like banshees.

We reached the concrete positions and lobbed hand grenades, with the safety pins pulled out with our teeth, into the pits, and followed up by spurts from man-pack flame-throwers.

We had achieved our aim, but at a cost. We suffered a number of casualties.

As our radio was not working, I sent my runner, Mitch, back to the command post with a message of success.

No time to rest as casualties had to be looked after, magazines reloaded and ready to give covering fire for the main assault that would start very soon. I now appreciated why the heavy machine guns (.5-inch calibre) had to be taken first as they were able to cover the whole of the battery area with sustained and deadly fire.

A loud bang as Bangalore torpedoes were exploded and we saw the main attack begin by E, F and D Troops on their target objectives. The enemy put up strong resistance with bullets and shrapnel flying all over the place in the haze of battle.

Then, from the gap in the wire we had made, came a figure, slightly crouched, with a rifle slung over his shoulder and holding something in one hand with the other hand over the top to shield it. As the figure came closer we could see it was Mitch, returning from the command post.

He came up to me and said: 'Message delivered, sir, and I've brought you a mug of tea brewed by the CO's batman; got a drop of rum in it.'

I was dumbfounded for a moment — what do you say to someone who has walked through hellfire to bring you a mug of tea? A mere thank you is quite inadequate. So I took the mug, raised it in salute, and said: 'By the living God who made you, you're a better man than I am, Mitchell Din.' That went down well as Mitch was fond of Kipling. Nowhere, but absolutely nowhere but in the British Army could anything like this happen.

The fight for the gun emplacement and control tower went on for a while, but as our grenades and flame-throwers took their toll, German soldiers came out with their arms up in surrender.

After battle there is still a lot to be done. The badly wounded have to be sent off to a field hospital, and the not so badly wounded to be seen by our medical officer in a makeshift regimental aid post.

The dead have to be brought to a central place to be collected later for burial, each one bound in his groundsheet on which is written his name, number and regiment. His green beret with regimental cap badge is on his head as that is the way a Commando soldier returns to his Maker.