D-Day 60th Anniversary

Tarrant Rushton Revisited

A farm field gate on a bend in a country road in Dorset was our port of call. There were no direction signs, no indications of any kind, and we wondered as we drove slowly along between high hedges if we were the only people there. I had most of my family with me in a convoy of three cars, including my children, grandchildren and, of course, my wife, who was no stranger to this place.

The last part of the journey was up a steep, winding hill, then a straight run of about 400 yards to the field gate. As we reached the top of the hill we were met by an extraordinary sight. On this lovely summer afternoon, this country road was full of cars, buses, bicycles and walkers heading for the field gate. A later estimate put the crowd at over twelve hundred.

A friendly, but sombre gathering, welcomed by Air Cadets as eventually we all went through the field gate and passed the Memorial Stone. This is a slab of concrete, about four feet high, part of the original runway. At the front, it bears a brass plate inscribed,

To honour all who served with

298 and 644 Squadrons, R.A.F. and

‘C’ Squadron, Glider Pilot Regiment.

Captain Bernard Halsall, M.C., Glider Pilot Regiment (second from right), marches proudly with Veterans past his son, Air Commodore Martin Halsall, who took the salute, and is seen above addressing the gathering at the Memorial Stone.

The service was started at 3pm by the Padre. There was an inspection, some hymns, an address, the spreading of ashes of a recently deceased Glider Pilot (DFC) and Silence. The Silence to recall those who did not return, as well as the excitement, the tension and the fear that was in full flow at this place more than sixty years ago. Six gliders from here had led the Allied armies into  battle by landing at, and capturing, what is now known as Pegasus Bridge. Before the end of the war, similar feats were performed many times. Less than half survived, and now there are very few. But, on this day in June, their friends, relatives and many others had come back to remember.

At the gate, to a field, in Dorset.

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