D Day scenario. Morning on King Blue Beach

Morning on King Blue beach

Along the coast from the the Glen Darroch's, elements of the 3rd Special Service Brigade were also hitting the beach. Though tasked with linking up with an airborne coup de main at the bridge across the River Cabernet, the 3rd SSB had had to detach 17 Troop, 44 RM Commando and give them the job of destroying the main gun emplacement in Petit Paps-Sur-Mer's defences.

This force, led by Lieutenant, the Lord Elpus of Ferguslie, had been reinforced at short notice by his cousin and boyhood chum, Captain, the Lord Ebove of Drumchapel of the 8th Bn the Parachute Regiment who, along with his men, had had their take off the night before aborted due to engine failure. Unable to get another plane , Lord Ebove had forced his way to Portsmouth and with his troops, cajoled his way onto the same ship as Lord Elpus, helped by the liberal use of waving his brolly in a threatening manner at any "low life, unwashed bally common type who got in his bally way en route to thrash the Hun; what what!!"

On landing, Lord Elpus' forces consisted of;

Captain, the Lord Ebove and batman ( annoyingly, over bearingly in command)

Lord Elpus and his batman/piper,

2 sections of Commandos

1 section of (displaced) Paras

Sniper

Forward Artillery Observer

Churchill Crocodile

Captain the Lord Ebove of the Gorbals and Lieutenant the Lord Elpus of Ferguslie

Going Commando and Para in Normandy

Buffeted and slapped by the sea, the Landing Craft Infantry carrying the members of 17 Troop 44 RM, made it's sluggish way towards the enemy shore.. Concentrating on the task ahead, Lt, the Lord Elpus, found his attention wondering. Was that smoke he could smell? Amongst the all the other sights, sounds and smells that were battering his sense at that moment the most pervasive one was the smell of smoke; smoke with a distinct tang of diesel in it. "Boats been hit, yur Lairdship!!" shouted his piper, Private McGonnagle, possibly the most slovenly, most insubordinate soldier in his command if not the Royal Marines. However McGonnagle was a gifted piper as well as one of his ghillies from his estates back in the wilds of Renfrewshire so Elpus tended to ignore his soldierly failings.

Elpus looked around, the coxswain  was gone, well, most of him. The wheelhouse had taken a direct hit as had the coxswain. Smoke and flames were licking around the base of what had been the wheelhouse; beside it a lone gunner was lying draped over his machine gun; the other completely gone.

The landing craft was still heading for the shore though and they weren't that far from the beach "Lads, we've been hit" shouted Elpus "stand by to get out as soon as I give the word" The stricken vessel was beginning to lose momentum and would soon come to a halt. At that moment, it ground onto the beach "Over the sides, lads, the ramp's jammed" called out Elpus and his men responded in an instant. Landing thigh deep in the chilly water the started heading for the enemy positions that were their objective as machine gun bullets zippped around them. Miraculously none of them were hit. "McGonnagle, give us a tootle on the pipes" said Elpus. "Aye aye, sur. Though it's no a tootle that ye rightly call it. Och, I'll gie the lads a stirring pibroch, that'll help them keep goin' and put the fear o' Deith up thon Jerries!!" 

The huge Landing Craft Tank hit the sand with a jar. Before it had fully come to a halt the ramp was down. Peering from his hatch, Sgt Lance Boyle shouted into his mike "forward...and bloody quick about it!" Up ahead he could see the 88mm gun barrel swinging around to face the Crocodile. The tank lurched forward as the 88mm fired. Sgt Boyle didn't have the time to panic as the shell ricocheted of the armoured behemoth. "Get an effing move on, Smiffy!" he screamed at the driver. "Ginge, toast that bastard!!" this to the flamethrower operator who needed no second bidding, his sense of self preservation already heightened to the nth degree. A huge jet of flame roared out and engulfed the gun just as another round slammed into the tank.

On the Landing Craft Tank, the marines operating it's MMGs let rip at the scorched gun, catching the surviving gun crew as they stumbled away from the flames.

In the bunker, Leutnant Gunter Schute, forward artillery observer for the garrisons howitzers, called in defensive fire on the Glen Darrochs, the Commandos before him being a bit too close for safety.He was rewarded by a swift response from his battery as the Glen Darrochs were engulfed in a shower of shells.

The machine gunners of the I/III Regiment hammered away at the Commandos making their way inland; the wire proving a time consuming and deadly obstacle to their advance.

Sgt Boyle cursed heartily. The last shell from the 88mm had stopped the Churchill in it's tracks. Leaving the driver trying to get the tank restarted he continued to engage any and all targets of opportunity. His cursing increased as over the sounds of battle he heard McGonnagle's piping above the sounds of battle and the revving tank engine "Christ, just when I thought things couldn't get any bleedin' worse; bloody sweaty socks!!" 

In a pause in the tank fire, Lieutenant Lord Elpus and Piper McGonnagle dashed across the beach in front of the stalled tank "Right laddie, another tune if you please?" "Ah'm no a laddie, sur; I'm 23!" came the reply. "Okay, McGonnagle, just play a tune, there's a good fellow" So saying Elpus put his rifle to his shoulder, snapped off a shot and brought down another of the defenders "Just like a grouse beat" he thought. 

Behind him, McGonnagle hit a bum note "What the bloody hell's up with you now, McGonnagle" he shouted as he turned to the piper. McGonnagle lay in a heap, his bagpipes on the ground beside "Bastards!! they hit mah chanter..." as he passed out. With a roar of anger and anguish, Lt the Lord Elpus tiurned and charged at the nearest German position, hell bent on revenge; those pipes were brand new, cost him £3.5s!! Someone would pay!!

Their ranks whittled down by the enemy machine gun fire, the Commandos and Paras pressed home their attack. By now they were through the wire and closing with the machine gun bunkers. 

The last remaining Para from Captain the Lord Ebove's men, Private Percy Vere, his comrades dead and dying, had had enough. Sticking a fresh magazine into his Sten, he ran at the machine gun bunker in front of him, firing from the hip. The German manning the machine gun fell dead as Vere stuck the Sten barrel into the bunkers aperture and sprayed the interior with bullets. Behind him, the Marines watching Vere in action gaped. "Cor lummee, 'e's a bloody nutter!" 

"C'mon then, you bloody Bootnecks, get a ruddy move on" shouted Vere, heading inland after a group of fleeing Germans.....